Torchwood/Dr Who - fic - Then I Would Have My Own Bordellos, 15/R
After writing the original, 250 words version of this, a few people said they would like more. I found myself doing research, and creating vague characters and an outline. Then it grew to 5000 words. So, here’s a different path, but maybe not so different a life, for Jack.
Title - Then I Would Have My Own Bordellos
Author - laurab1
Characters/pairings - Jack, Emily/Alice, OMCs, OFCs, Jack/OMCs, Jack/OFCs, OFC/OFC, Tarot Cards Girl, Nine/Rose/Jack, Jack/John Hart, OACs
Rating - 15/R
Length - approx 5365 words
Spoilers - to TW 2.12 Fragments
Warnings/issues - violence, sex, language, gender identity, a few varieties of mild kink and what’s obvious from the title
Summary - Jack’s life takes a different path, in 1899.
Disclaimer - anyone you recognise in this is not mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Thank you to rm, mad_jaks, k_haldane, darthhellokitty, the_summoning_d, karaokegal, rabecka, smtfhw, persiflage_1, aeron_lanart, kalichan, beccaelizabeth and others for advice re specific plot points/encouragement/squee/demands for more/the transcript :)
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Then I Would Have My Own Bordellos
by Laura
1899, Cardiff
“Oh, not again.”
Jack caught his breath, after coming back to life. What the hell number death was this? Still hurting, he grimaced. Looking down at the source of his pain, he discovered a green glass bottle sticking out of his stomach, blood all over his white shirt, and on his long, grey, woollen coat. Jack moaned, as he yanked out the bottle, and threw it away. Hearing it shatter, he attempted to get to his feet.
It was then that he noticed the two women. One wore a tan skirt suit, and hid one of her hands in her jacket. The other was clad in a tweed suit, with Oxford bags, and they both topped off their outfits with hats and gloves.
“Ladies. Torso of steel, shilling a feel. Any takers?” Jack said, in a not very good version of his usual, flirty charm.” Finally standing, but not particularly steadily, he explained his injuries with, “Bar fight, got a little out of control. Flesh wound. Whoa! Whoa! Still not used to... these hangovers.” The women were stalking towards him. They still hadn’t said a word, and he became a little suspicious. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he introduced himself. “How long have you been there? Silent types. That's OK. I used to date a guy with no mouth. Surprisingly creative,” Jack babbled.
And then the women decided to attack him. The one in the trousers knelt on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Finding his face between her knees, Jack tried one of his lines: “Listen, you only had to ask. Can we get a room, though?”
In reply, she pulled out a handkerchief and chloroformed him.
“Hell,” Jack muttered, before losing consciousness.
***
They woke him up by throwing a bucket of water in his face. “When I said about getting a room,” Jack continued his line, “I meant somewhere with linen.”
That only earned him a second bucket. Shaking it off, Jack took in his situation and surroundings. He was tied to a chair, in what appeared to be a prison, or possibly even a castle dungeon. The woman in the Oxford bags then tore open Jack’s shirt, only to stick two pieces of metal, attached to wires, on his chest.
Acknowledging the bits of metal for what they were, he grinned, saying, “Time was, electrodes to the nipples meant the start of a good night.” As she then turned the handle on a somehow rather out of its time hand-crank generator, Jack remembered just how much he loved electricity.
“Full power charge and still breathing,” she added, unnecessarily, letting go of the handle.
Sounded like he’d annoyed her immensely by not dying. He chuckled, bitterly. “Pretty advanced piece of equipment you got there,” Jack said. “You ladies are ahead of yourselves. Now where the hell am I?”
That earned him a bullet right between his eyes. Jack swore, as he once again fell into the darkness. At least he knew this would only be a three minutes thing...
***
“Why aren't you dead yet?” the woman in the skirt demanded, when he’d finished gasping back to life.
“Been trying to figure that out myself,” Jack instantly replied. For the last seven years.
“We've been monitoring you,” Ms Electricity informed him, still at the machine she was quite clearly far too fond of. “You've been killed fourteen times in the last six months.”
Was that all? “Feels like more than that.”
“Who's the Doctor?” she then asked.
“No idea,” Jack covered.
“ ‘The Doctor, he'll be able to fix me’, ‘When the Doctor turns up, it'll all be put right’, ‘You wait till I see the Doctor. First I'm going to kiss him, then I'm going to kill him’,” Ms Bullet In The Head reeled off. “Transcripts of your conversations with strangers, in various drinking dens, since you first came to our attention.”
He really should stop drinking. All it did was make him do very stupid things, like tell the truth. “Y'know, no-one likes a smart-ass.”
“Tell us where he is and we'll release you,” she replied.
Yeah. Why do I not believe you? “Why do you wanna know?”
“You're in Torchwood, Cardiff. The Torchwood Institute was created to combat the threat posed by the Doctor and other phantasmagoria,” Ms Electricity said.
So, she was the one in charge, then, it seemed. It also seemed she’d been smoking opium. Jack laughed. Oncoming Storm, hot as hell, yeah. But that? No way. Never doubted him, never will. “He's not a threat. The Doctor's the one who'll save you from your phantasmahoojits.”
She placed her hand on the generator again. “Just tell us his location.”
It was becoming clear that these women were very possibly candidates for Bedlam. Jack wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this Torchwood place. “I don't know!” he exclaimed. “He left me behind. I came here to find him. He refuels from that rift you have. Hoping if I stayed here long enough, we'd find each other. Now, can I go?”
“No,” Ms Bullet In The Head replied.
“You can't keep me here!” he protested.
Ms Electricity simply said, “Oh, we can. Unless...”
“Yes. Unless,” agreed the other woman.
Jack really didn’t like the implications they put into how they said the word. “Unless what?”
“There are opportunities here. With the Institute.”
And he didn’t like the implications they put into ‘opportunities’, either. “I'm not for hire.”
“You're going to need currency,” said Ms Bullet In The Head.
Jack resisted telling them he’d been needing, and had had currency for the last thirty years. Taking in his current predicament, he sighed, and asked her, “What's the assignment?”
“Missing person,” she replied.
“Well, when we say person...” her boss added.
***
The person was one of those fish-headed aliens, very familiar to Jack. He claimed to be innocent, but Jack shoved him to the ground, and reeled off a list of crimes the guy was supposed to have committed.
“I'll make it up, I promise!” he protested.
You shouldn’t be here, kid. “This planet's a century away from official first contact with alien life. You're upsetting the schedule.”
“Who are you?” the fish asked.
With half a smile, Jack looked down at him, and said, “I'm Torchwood.”
***
Back at Torchwood, Jack threw the fish-headed being into a cell, and watched Ms Bullet In The Head turn the key.
“I said sorry! You can't lock me up!” the fish exclaimed.
That single word had got him out of more bad situations than he cared to remember, so Jack pleaded, “He's just a kid. Send him back to where he came from.”
“If only we could. The Rift only goes one way.”
He had to admit that was probably true. “What do you do?” he asked, although he suspected he didn’t want to know. “Observe and profile the species and then transfer them to long term storage?”
Before Jack was aware of what was happening, there was a bang, and she was living up to the nickname. The fish collapsed, stone cold dead. Grabbing her, Jack demanded, “Why?”
“It was a threat to the Empire.”
It? That was all she could think? Male and female weren’t restricted to Earth, or her colony planets. “Like me?”
“You're our ally now,” she replied, pulling out of his hold, and turning towards him.
At the look in Ms Bullet In The Head’s eyes, Jack swore, under his breath. Oh, I don’t think so, you psychotic, trigger-happy bitch.
***
In Ms Electricity’s office, Jack sat in a chair, facing her desk, and watched her count out his payment. He knew this money was going to feel like those thirty pieces of silver he’d once read about, and this thought was perfectly clear, on his face.
She finished, and looked at him. “If you don't want it...” she said, at Jack’s expression.
It was money, though, so he took it, and stood.
It was then that she pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding it out to him with, “Your next assignment.”
“No. I'm through with you people,” Jack informed her, and made a move to leave.
“Your liberty is at our discretion.” At Ms Electricity’s tone, he stopped and turned back to face her. Ms Bullet In The Head then entered the office, through another door. “Work for us, you assist the Empire. Sever that tie, you become a threat.”
Ah, yes, the glorious Empire.
“And you've seen how we deal with threats,” was Ms Bullet In The Head’s unnecessary, menacing addition.
“It's good money, Captain. How else are you going to earn?”
Were they stupid, as well as mad? Jack twirled, showing off his fabulous coat. “Look at me, ladies,” he said, grinning somewhat manically. “What did I say, when we met? How the hell d’you think I’m gonna earn? How I’ve been earning? Cons and sex, courtesy of the Captain, for a hell of a long time.” To spite her, Jack walked back to Ms Electricity. He took the piece of paper from her, before simply tossing it onto the desk.
“See what you think in the morning,” she replied, at all his words, and his action.
Shaking his head, Jack left, taking great pleasure in slamming the door behind him.
***
Later, he was sat on his own, in a noisy, busy tavern, drinking away. A girl approached him, and his guard instantly went up. Takes one to know one, and Jack knew simply by looking at her that she was weird.
Sure enough, she asked him, “Can I read your cards?” Then she sat down opposite him, without being offered.
What would she find? Jack didn’t think he wanted to know. “No, thank you,” he said, aiming for a polite tone of voice. The girl pushed the remnants of Jack’s drinking off the table, to make space. “No, really,” he added, more forcefully.
She simply ignored him, and just took out her deck of cards. Tarot, wasn’t it? At turning over Tower (a broken castle tower), Jack of Swords (the guy in that one looked suspiciously like him, in armour), and Three of Swords (the three swords sticking through a heart was creepy), Weird Girl told him, “He's coming. The one you're looking for.”
And at displaying Ace of Cups (a fountain), the Moon (the blue chick in that one was kinda cute) and The World (another cute chick, breasts on display, wearing just a red sheet) she said, “But the century will turn twice before you find each other again.”
In reply, Jack just laughed, saying, “Oooh! Are you for real?” But the girl fixed him with a serious, do-not-mess-with-me look, and he stopped laughing. Picking up the Jack of Swords, he asked, “You mean I have to wait 100 years to find him? What'll I do in the meantime?”
“I’m sure you can think of something, Captain,” Weird Girl replied, before gathering up her cards, and leaving him.
Okay, so, yeah, Torchwood would be good, regular money, maybe more than he was currently earning. Jack thought about that, as he considered working for the Empire, against the Doctor. Against. That was the key word. Oh, and those two women were like he’d sometimes been, back when he was a Time Agent. He really didn’t want to go back to that, if he could at all possibly help it.
He would inform Ms Electricity and Ms Bullet In The Head of his decision in the morning, Jack decided, tipping back the last of his whisky, and departing from the tavern.
***
“D’you think I could have your names, ladies?” Jack asked, in a fake pleasant tone, sat across from them, the following morning. “I wanna know just who it is I’m addressing.”
Ms Electricity said, “Mrs Emily Holroyd.”
“And Miss Alice Guppy,” replied Ms Bullet In the Head.
“Have you changed your mind?” Mrs Holroyd asked him.
“Hell, no. I want nothing whatsoever to do with you, ladies,” Jack said forcefully.
“We could choose to make life even more difficult for you, Captain. You had certain acts you wished to perform with the Doctor, I recall,” Miss Guppy added, menacingly.
Oh, they were gonna play that card, were they, despite themselves? Did they honestly think he hadn’t noticed how they were practically draped all over each other?
After an incident in a bar, on Gammatron, in which nothing more than three little words and a simple peck on the lips had landed him and his Time Agency partner (an abrasive guy with an accent which sounded like he was from London, back on Earth) in prison for a day, Jack had made a decision. How much trouble his all-encompassing passions were potentially going to get him into, wherever his missions or cons took him, was almost always the first thing he researched, before heading to the time or place. Therefore, he had a brilliant comeback.
Rising from the chair, making the most of his height, Jack smiled maliciously, as he decided to forget about cocking up the time-line and told them, “I could choose to make life even more difficult for you, ladies, too. How many people in this city know what Torchwood is, or does? And, y’know, a bit less than seventy years’ time, that’s legal again, in most of Great Britain. Just over a hundred years’ time, it’s even more legal. Three thousand years’ time, no-one cares who anyone has sex with, at all. And some of the aliens out there are even hotter than humans.”
“Captain,” Mrs Holroyd said, looking up at him, “Again, I ask just how are you going to earn, if you do not join us?”
No reaction to all his pretty words? Jack was rather disappointed, but he grinned, and just replied, “Like I said, ladies. Same way I’ve been earning for quite a number of years.”
“And when your looks fade?” she asked, aiming for spite.
Jack laughed. “Not gonna happen for a very long time, Emily. Trust me on that. Goodbye, ladies. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but I’d be lying.”
With that, he stalked out of the office, out of Torchwood.
***
So, instead of joining Torchwood, Jack carried on like he’d been doing. And like there always had been, there were times where he found himself ensuring people (mainly girls and boys who were far too young to be doing this) didn’t go off with clients who he suspected were a threat.
Okay, so the person might swear at him, for loss of business, but Jack never hesitated to remind them that it was better safe than sorry. Or dead.
***
1904
One day, five years later, Jack found himself thinking that maybe he should take at least the kids under his protection, for the long term. No, he would take everyone who wanted it under his wing, he decided. When a building on the docks came up for sale, Jack snapped it right up and moved in.
Then, he put the word out among Cardiff’s lowlife that they could come to the Captain, and he would look after them.
***
Jack’s plan was that he would teach his expected people how to defend themselves; that would ensure their safety, out on the streets. To ensure their health, and for the bits he really didn’t want to deal with completely on his own, like avoiding syphilis, and all the other unpleasant STDs it was possible to contract in Edwardian Britain, Jack found and employed a couple of doctors, who he trusted implicitly.
“I need you to not judge any of us, at all,” he told them, as Doctors Martin Davies and Julia Smith sat across from him, in his new office. “Can you do that?”
“Yes, Captain. I promise we will do nothing of the sort,” Dr Smith solemnly replied.
“Thank you,” Jack said, smiling. “Welcome aboard.”
***
Word got around, and, yes, they came to Jack’s Tempus Fugit bordello, all of them; doxies, rent boys, queens, escorts, gigolos, drag artists, bisexuals, queers, lesbians, homosexual men. So many beautiful people, and they were all his. Although he’d kinda expected this result, Jack still could hardly believe his luck.
But some came to him almost completely green; not quite capable of obtaining a more normal job, but adoring sex. It was those kids that Jack needed to be particularly careful with, not sending them out until he was absolutely sure they would come back to him in one piece.
***
“Goods completely on display” was what Jack always declared, whenever someone new arrived at his establishment. If they had experience, observing their almost, or completely naked body would allow him see just how much they were able to make of it. The women tended to throw out their breasts, and the men usually swaggered.
There was a vague hint of swagger in the boy he was currently watching, and circling, as they stood in one of the bedrooms. It was late afternoon, and Jack figured the guy, who’d arrived on his doorstep this morning was eighteen or nineteen, and not all that experienced. But, goddesses, he was pretty, jet black hair, dark brown eyes, olive skin, ie, Italian, like a sizeable population of Cardiff.
It was then that Jack had an idea, to fully bring out this boy’s swagger. Maybe what he was about to do wasn’t the kind of thing that those in the business of procuring sex usually did. Jack, though, had never been usual.
“Gianni?” he addressed the boy, standing in front of him.
Those gorgeous eyes looked up at Jack, and Gianni Scalabrino smiled. “Jack?” he replied.
“I’m gonna teach you how to use that beautiful body of yours,” Jack informed him, running a finger down the middle of Gianni’s chest.
“We start now?” he asked, gazing up at Jack through his long, dark eyelashes.
Sneaky! Jack grinned, impressed. Gianni grinned back at him. Oh, he knew exactly what he’d been doing, with that move. “Yeah, we start now. And, okay, I’m gonna teach you how to use that beautiful body of yours even better,” he replied, amending his idea.
And that would be after he’d done one particular thing. Jack took Gianni’s head in his hands, and kissed him, on the lips, just once. That wasn’t standard practice for this, either, but he didn’t care. It would be standard practice for him, he decided. If his people needed lessons in sex, they would receive them.
And if they needed kisses, they would get them, too.
***
1905
Then there was the clothes shopping.
A couple of weeks ago, Elizabeth Summer had been with Jack for exactly four months, when she came to his office and simply declared, “I don’t feel that I’m a girl, Jack. Would you assist me with the purchase of a gentleman’s suit?”
Observing her, Jack had suspected she would come to him with this. In it, Elizabeth reminded him of female Time Agents and soldiers he’d known; the kind of women who’d try to make themselves taller and bigger than they actually were, with men’s clothes and shoes. Some failed, some pulled it off. Jack knew she would be successful - at 5’8”, with great shoulders, she was already slightly taller than average, for the times. “Sure, Elizabeth,” he’d replied, smiling gently. “I know just the place. D’you want a shorter hairstyle, too?”
“Yes, I do,” she’d said, very sure of herself, and her plan.
Now, watching her strut towards him, across the shop, Jack knew that he and Elizabeth had made the right choice, with the charcoal-coloured suit, and white shirt. The bespoke suit and off the peg shirt were accompanied by a belt, a pair of braces and a bowler hat. He thought she looked amazing, in the outfit.
Yeah, he had seen women (mainly artistic types who preferred the company of other women), in men’s clothes. They still identified themselves as women, though, a lot of them. It was just dressing-up, playing.
As for Elizabeth, she was quite clearly far more comfortable wearing those clothes, covering up what would normally show her to be female, along with having her hair cut like a boy's, than she had been in dresses, and girl’s hair.
Yeah, forget about propriety and convention, and go with what makes you happy.
“What do you think, Captain?” she asked huskily, looking him right in the eye.
He grinned at her. “Just a couple of things, I reckon.” Jack reached out, and undid the top two buttons on Elizabeth’s shirt, then adjusted the hat a little, putting it an angle. “There. Wear it like that (strategically dipped below one eye), it’ll be perfect. Out in the street, they’ll be falling over themselves to share a bed with you.” He kissed her cheek. “Now, are we splitting the cost, on this?”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Smiling, Elizabeth turned to Valentino Rosso, the tailor, an older, and greying, but still handsome Italian. (It was all the olive oil. Magic stuff, so many uses.) “Can I keep all this on, signore? It’s beautiful. Thank you for making it for me!”
“Si, si, signorina. Of course! Bella, bella!” Valentino replied, smiling back, his arms outstretched. “You pay, now, Capitano?” he asked, looking at Jack.
“Yeah, Valentino,” Jack said, reaching into his coat pocket for the wallets, and handing Elizabeth hers. “Grazie, as always, for your discretion.”
“Prego, Capitano, prego.”
Mission accomplished, they paid, and had Valentino wrap up Elizabeth’s dress for her. They then accepted his farewell kisses, and went on their way.
***
Later, Jack saw Elizabeth twirling, for Maria Palmer, before they kissed each other on the lips, which made him smile. Love’s love, after all.
And when he saw her exchanging the now discarded dress for another suit, courtesy of the terribly pretty David Hughes, he also smiled. David had the dress Jack knew he’d been after.
The suit? Well, the way it was cut, it wouldn’t fit her, at all, but Elizabeth had decided to be too polite to say so.
***
Jack and Bethan Williams began a series of visits to Miss Margaret Carmichael’s, to buy a dress. Bethan headed straight for the low cut dresses, the ones that did a fabulous job of emphasising cleavage.
Looking over at her from his position in the store, examining the accessories, Jack could see that something had caught her eye. Looked like green velvet, with flowers stitched onto it in gold thread. He made his way towards her. Then he could see the little extra touch on the dress; a very thin sable edging, around the cuffs and neck.
“It’s beautiful, Bethan,” Jack said, running his hand down a sleeve. “This the one you’d like to buy?”
“Oh, yes, Jack,” she replied, looking up at him, with a smile.
“Okay. Margaret!” he called, and Miss Carmichael came over.
“Captain. What can I do for you two, today?” she asked, in her blue velvet dress.
Bethan replied, “I’d like to try on this dress, please?”
“Of course, miss. Come with me, please.” Margaret led her to the changing rooms.
Bethan soon re-emerged, now wearing the dress, and she spun for him. Pale skin, dark hair and curves, all of which Jack loved. “Gorgeous,” he said, and smiled at her.
“I completely agree, Jack,” Margaret added, joining them. “Are you making a purchase, then?” she asked, glancing between him and Bethan.
“Yes, please, we are,” Bethan replied.
***
And when one of his men, Oliver Matthews, said he wanted to buy a dinner suit, Jack made yet another visit to Casa di Rosso.
“Jacket, trousers, bow tie, please, Valentino,” Oliver asked.
“Si, Signore Matthews,” the tailor said, as he finished taking measurements. “I find you bellisimo dinner suit.”
Jack watched, as Valentino handed the off the peg clothes to Oliver, who then went to change. He came back with the bow tie hanging around his neck.
“I haven’t got a bloody clue how to tie the thing, Jack,” he stated.
“C’mere.” Jack beckoned Oliver over, saying, “I have.”
“But isn’t that backwards, to your hands?” Oliver asked, an eyebrow slightly raised.
Jack looked away from the eyebrow, mass of curls and green eyes, instead concentrating on making the loops. “No, I learned how to tie them this way, as well as doing my own.”
“Sounds like it’s something you should teach the ladies, if they don’t already know.”
Oh, he’d done that before. Jack remembered teaching Rose how to do this, back in the TARDIS - evening wear, for visit to a London nightclub, in 1925. She’d been wearing a burgundy silk flapper dress, when she’d knocked on his door, hair piled up on top of her head, and carrying ostrich feathers…
“Jack, help me stick these in, will ya? Please?” Rose sounded and looked like she’d been struggling with the feathers.
Jack instantly took pity on her. “C’mere, you.” Not finished dressing, himself, he grinned at Rose, took her free hand and pulled her into his room. The TARDIS had been kind enough to provide him with one of those full length, tilting frame mirrors, and Jack led Rose over to it. “Gimme a feather, then, sweetheart.”
She handed one to him, and he carefully slid it into her hair. In the mirror, Jack then saw Rose raise an eyebrow. “Done this before, have ya, Captain? Helping girls dress up?”
He hadn’t been with them that long, so they hadn’t really discussed everything he’d done, in his previous lives, as a soldier, a Time Agent, a conman. “Yeah, Rose,” he said, watching her reflection, as he held out his hand for another feather. “Amazing, the kind of things I’ve had people teach me, for one reason or another.” He inserted the second feather into Rose’s hair with equal ease. “And all the many things I’ve taught, myself.”
“Certainly taught me a thing or two, Jack. You, an’ him,” Rose said, her tone halfway between wicked and serious.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack replied, in the same tone. Then he had an idea. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to do a bowtie, Rose?” he asked, pushing in the last feather.
“No, Jack. You gonna teach me?”
“Yeah. It’s really hot, having someone tie it for you.” Jack’s eyes went dark. “Even better, when they untie it.” He pulled his chair over to the mirror, and sat down on it. “Watch, Rose.” Jack did his tie himself, before getting Rose to do it, still in the mirror. They then moved away from the mirror. “Facing me, now, okay?”
“Yeah,” Rose said, and passed the loops around each other. She smiled up at him, pleased with her work.
Turning back to the mirror, Jack straightened up the tie, just a little. “If the Doc’s not already done his tie, offer your services, sweetheart. Should think he’ll have no idea what’s hit him.”
“You gonna untie it for him, Captain?” Rose asked, her meaning obvious.
“If I buy him that drink he says I have to, Miss Tyler.”
When they stumbled back into the TARDIS, at 1am, they were all three very drunk indeed. The dancing continued, in so many ways.
Finished, Jack looked at the guy again. “Excellent idea, Oliver! You wanna see what you look like, then?” he asked, steering him to a full length mirror.
***
Some of Jack’s more experienced people had arrived on his doorstep with their own items to “help the fun along”. Over time, these more experienced people showed these toys to the greener ones. And so the younger people wanted toys of their own. The shops that sold them were in the alleyways and back streets of the city. Jack either sent one of the doctors with the person who wished to make a purchase, or he went with them himself.
Today’s shopping trip had yielded an absolutely beautiful item, a feather duster, made with peacock feathers. When Jack saw the feathers, he had declared a lesson in how to use them, as soon as they got back. As Alexandra McCulloch ran her new prize across Jack’s naked chest, he enjoyed the feeling of the soft and silky feathers, before snatching it out her hand.
“Your turn, now, Alexandra,” he said, aiming her towards the bed. They climbed on, and Jack ran the feathers over Alexandra’s breasts, making her gasp rather prettily.
“Can I feel the feathers down my spine, Jack?” she then asked, and turned over before he instructed her to do so.
Jack was impressed. “Sure,” he said, smiling, and proceeded to run them very slowly down her spine. When he’d done that a few times, Alexandra took the feathers from him, tumbled him onto his front, and ran them down his spine. The feeling! Oh, she was great, this girl, so very aware of the sensuality of certain things.
Yes, she could use these feathers with her next client.
***
1909
Jack kept knowledge about the Rift, Torchwood, the Doctor and the TARDIS to a very small number of his people. The order he gave them was: “If you see anyone hanging about by the docks looking lost as hell, and you’re sure they’re not fakin’ it, tell them we can protect them and bring them back here, no questions asked.” Before Torchwood get their hands on them, because the Rift has a particularly active point there, and so they may well not be human.
In April 1909, exactly ten years to the day since Jack had turned down Torchwood, Elizabeth Summer brought a girl and boy back with her. She then took a seat in Jack’s office, to help him investigate the kids.
“She tell you... protect, Captain,” the girl said.
“Yeah, I protect,” Jack replied. “I protect lots of people.” The girl’s broken English made her sound kinda Eastern European. Given the year, he drew them a Star of David, and asked if they recognised it, before they went any further.
“We not know what this is,” the boy stated.
“Okay, okay,” Jack conceded, looking away.
With a sigh, he thought of another strategy. It was when he looked back that he saw the pair’s eyes and faces had changed. They were both green, whereas they had been blue, and pale pink. “Please don’t freak out, Elizabeth,” Jack whispered in her ear, “But I’m gonna talk to them in a language that isn’t from Earth. She nodded, in reply. Then, in Galactic Standard, although he had a suspicion, Jack asked, “Planet?”
“Don’t you know, Captain?” the girl asked, in the same tongue.
“Felis Chamelia, I figure, going by the eyes, and skin. Good job, pretending to be humans, by the way.”
“Correct, Captain. The pretence was necessary, when our ship crashed,” the boy then informed him.
“When your ship crashed?” Jack said, a bit high-pitched. Without another thought, he rose from his seat. “C’mon, we need get you back in the air, and on your way home, before someone else ensures you can’t, and steals your craft.”
***
When he returned to Tempus Fugit, Jack sat in his office and poured himself a whisky, to celebrate a good day, and an even better life.
Today was especially wonderful because he managed to keep a couple of pretty aliens and their ship out of Torchwood’s grubby little hands, and send them on their way home. He got a mechanic out of the adventure, too! Elizabeth had proved herself to be rather good with tools, helping with some of the repairs that needed to be made to the ship.
As for his life? Well, ten years after daring to say, “No,” to the pair of psychotic bitches who ran the institute back in ‘99, Emily Holroyd and Alice Guppy, he had his own business. Gorgeous girls and beautiful boys, all selling that most basic, and vital, of human experiences, sex. Jack looked after every single one of them, experienced, or entirely green, made sure no-one risked themselves too much.
Okay, so they’re all a little broken, but it could be worse, they could be completely on their own. At least with him, they’re relatively safe.
And they always will be.
-end-
Title - Then I Would Have My Own Bordellos
Author - laurab1
Characters/pairings - Jack, Emily/Alice, OMCs, OFCs, Jack/OMCs, Jack/OFCs, OFC/OFC, Tarot Cards Girl, Nine/Rose/Jack, Jack/John Hart, OACs
Rating - 15/R
Length - approx 5365 words
Spoilers - to TW 2.12 Fragments
Warnings/issues - violence, sex, language, gender identity, a few varieties of mild kink and what’s obvious from the title
Summary - Jack’s life takes a different path, in 1899.
Disclaimer - anyone you recognise in this is not mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Thank you to rm, mad_jaks, k_haldane, darthhellokitty, the_summoning_d, karaokegal, rabecka, smtfhw, persiflage_1, aeron_lanart, kalichan, beccaelizabeth and others for advice re specific plot points/encouragement/squee/demands for more/the transcript :)
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Then I Would Have My Own Bordellos
by Laura
1899, Cardiff
“Oh, not again.”
Jack caught his breath, after coming back to life. What the hell number death was this? Still hurting, he grimaced. Looking down at the source of his pain, he discovered a green glass bottle sticking out of his stomach, blood all over his white shirt, and on his long, grey, woollen coat. Jack moaned, as he yanked out the bottle, and threw it away. Hearing it shatter, he attempted to get to his feet.
It was then that he noticed the two women. One wore a tan skirt suit, and hid one of her hands in her jacket. The other was clad in a tweed suit, with Oxford bags, and they both topped off their outfits with hats and gloves.
“Ladies. Torso of steel, shilling a feel. Any takers?” Jack said, in a not very good version of his usual, flirty charm.” Finally standing, but not particularly steadily, he explained his injuries with, “Bar fight, got a little out of control. Flesh wound. Whoa! Whoa! Still not used to... these hangovers.” The women were stalking towards him. They still hadn’t said a word, and he became a little suspicious. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he introduced himself. “How long have you been there? Silent types. That's OK. I used to date a guy with no mouth. Surprisingly creative,” Jack babbled.
And then the women decided to attack him. The one in the trousers knelt on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Finding his face between her knees, Jack tried one of his lines: “Listen, you only had to ask. Can we get a room, though?”
In reply, she pulled out a handkerchief and chloroformed him.
“Hell,” Jack muttered, before losing consciousness.
***
They woke him up by throwing a bucket of water in his face. “When I said about getting a room,” Jack continued his line, “I meant somewhere with linen.”
That only earned him a second bucket. Shaking it off, Jack took in his situation and surroundings. He was tied to a chair, in what appeared to be a prison, or possibly even a castle dungeon. The woman in the Oxford bags then tore open Jack’s shirt, only to stick two pieces of metal, attached to wires, on his chest.
Acknowledging the bits of metal for what they were, he grinned, saying, “Time was, electrodes to the nipples meant the start of a good night.” As she then turned the handle on a somehow rather out of its time hand-crank generator, Jack remembered just how much he loved electricity.
“Full power charge and still breathing,” she added, unnecessarily, letting go of the handle.
Sounded like he’d annoyed her immensely by not dying. He chuckled, bitterly. “Pretty advanced piece of equipment you got there,” Jack said. “You ladies are ahead of yourselves. Now where the hell am I?”
That earned him a bullet right between his eyes. Jack swore, as he once again fell into the darkness. At least he knew this would only be a three minutes thing...
***
“Why aren't you dead yet?” the woman in the skirt demanded, when he’d finished gasping back to life.
“Been trying to figure that out myself,” Jack instantly replied. For the last seven years.
“We've been monitoring you,” Ms Electricity informed him, still at the machine she was quite clearly far too fond of. “You've been killed fourteen times in the last six months.”
Was that all? “Feels like more than that.”
“Who's the Doctor?” she then asked.
“No idea,” Jack covered.
“ ‘The Doctor, he'll be able to fix me’, ‘When the Doctor turns up, it'll all be put right’, ‘You wait till I see the Doctor. First I'm going to kiss him, then I'm going to kill him’,” Ms Bullet In The Head reeled off. “Transcripts of your conversations with strangers, in various drinking dens, since you first came to our attention.”
He really should stop drinking. All it did was make him do very stupid things, like tell the truth. “Y'know, no-one likes a smart-ass.”
“Tell us where he is and we'll release you,” she replied.
Yeah. Why do I not believe you? “Why do you wanna know?”
“You're in Torchwood, Cardiff. The Torchwood Institute was created to combat the threat posed by the Doctor and other phantasmagoria,” Ms Electricity said.
So, she was the one in charge, then, it seemed. It also seemed she’d been smoking opium. Jack laughed. Oncoming Storm, hot as hell, yeah. But that? No way. Never doubted him, never will. “He's not a threat. The Doctor's the one who'll save you from your phantasmahoojits.”
She placed her hand on the generator again. “Just tell us his location.”
It was becoming clear that these women were very possibly candidates for Bedlam. Jack wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this Torchwood place. “I don't know!” he exclaimed. “He left me behind. I came here to find him. He refuels from that rift you have. Hoping if I stayed here long enough, we'd find each other. Now, can I go?”
“No,” Ms Bullet In The Head replied.
“You can't keep me here!” he protested.
Ms Electricity simply said, “Oh, we can. Unless...”
“Yes. Unless,” agreed the other woman.
Jack really didn’t like the implications they put into how they said the word. “Unless what?”
“There are opportunities here. With the Institute.”
And he didn’t like the implications they put into ‘opportunities’, either. “I'm not for hire.”
“You're going to need currency,” said Ms Bullet In The Head.
Jack resisted telling them he’d been needing, and had had currency for the last thirty years. Taking in his current predicament, he sighed, and asked her, “What's the assignment?”
“Missing person,” she replied.
“Well, when we say person...” her boss added.
***
The person was one of those fish-headed aliens, very familiar to Jack. He claimed to be innocent, but Jack shoved him to the ground, and reeled off a list of crimes the guy was supposed to have committed.
“I'll make it up, I promise!” he protested.
You shouldn’t be here, kid. “This planet's a century away from official first contact with alien life. You're upsetting the schedule.”
“Who are you?” the fish asked.
With half a smile, Jack looked down at him, and said, “I'm Torchwood.”
***
Back at Torchwood, Jack threw the fish-headed being into a cell, and watched Ms Bullet In The Head turn the key.
“I said sorry! You can't lock me up!” the fish exclaimed.
That single word had got him out of more bad situations than he cared to remember, so Jack pleaded, “He's just a kid. Send him back to where he came from.”
“If only we could. The Rift only goes one way.”
He had to admit that was probably true. “What do you do?” he asked, although he suspected he didn’t want to know. “Observe and profile the species and then transfer them to long term storage?”
Before Jack was aware of what was happening, there was a bang, and she was living up to the nickname. The fish collapsed, stone cold dead. Grabbing her, Jack demanded, “Why?”
“It was a threat to the Empire.”
It? That was all she could think? Male and female weren’t restricted to Earth, or her colony planets. “Like me?”
“You're our ally now,” she replied, pulling out of his hold, and turning towards him.
At the look in Ms Bullet In The Head’s eyes, Jack swore, under his breath. Oh, I don’t think so, you psychotic, trigger-happy bitch.
***
In Ms Electricity’s office, Jack sat in a chair, facing her desk, and watched her count out his payment. He knew this money was going to feel like those thirty pieces of silver he’d once read about, and this thought was perfectly clear, on his face.
She finished, and looked at him. “If you don't want it...” she said, at Jack’s expression.
It was money, though, so he took it, and stood.
It was then that she pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding it out to him with, “Your next assignment.”
“No. I'm through with you people,” Jack informed her, and made a move to leave.
“Your liberty is at our discretion.” At Ms Electricity’s tone, he stopped and turned back to face her. Ms Bullet In The Head then entered the office, through another door. “Work for us, you assist the Empire. Sever that tie, you become a threat.”
Ah, yes, the glorious Empire.
“And you've seen how we deal with threats,” was Ms Bullet In The Head’s unnecessary, menacing addition.
“It's good money, Captain. How else are you going to earn?”
Were they stupid, as well as mad? Jack twirled, showing off his fabulous coat. “Look at me, ladies,” he said, grinning somewhat manically. “What did I say, when we met? How the hell d’you think I’m gonna earn? How I’ve been earning? Cons and sex, courtesy of the Captain, for a hell of a long time.” To spite her, Jack walked back to Ms Electricity. He took the piece of paper from her, before simply tossing it onto the desk.
“See what you think in the morning,” she replied, at all his words, and his action.
Shaking his head, Jack left, taking great pleasure in slamming the door behind him.
***
Later, he was sat on his own, in a noisy, busy tavern, drinking away. A girl approached him, and his guard instantly went up. Takes one to know one, and Jack knew simply by looking at her that she was weird.
Sure enough, she asked him, “Can I read your cards?” Then she sat down opposite him, without being offered.
What would she find? Jack didn’t think he wanted to know. “No, thank you,” he said, aiming for a polite tone of voice. The girl pushed the remnants of Jack’s drinking off the table, to make space. “No, really,” he added, more forcefully.
She simply ignored him, and just took out her deck of cards. Tarot, wasn’t it? At turning over Tower (a broken castle tower), Jack of Swords (the guy in that one looked suspiciously like him, in armour), and Three of Swords (the three swords sticking through a heart was creepy), Weird Girl told him, “He's coming. The one you're looking for.”
And at displaying Ace of Cups (a fountain), the Moon (the blue chick in that one was kinda cute) and The World (another cute chick, breasts on display, wearing just a red sheet) she said, “But the century will turn twice before you find each other again.”
In reply, Jack just laughed, saying, “Oooh! Are you for real?” But the girl fixed him with a serious, do-not-mess-with-me look, and he stopped laughing. Picking up the Jack of Swords, he asked, “You mean I have to wait 100 years to find him? What'll I do in the meantime?”
“I’m sure you can think of something, Captain,” Weird Girl replied, before gathering up her cards, and leaving him.
Okay, so, yeah, Torchwood would be good, regular money, maybe more than he was currently earning. Jack thought about that, as he considered working for the Empire, against the Doctor. Against. That was the key word. Oh, and those two women were like he’d sometimes been, back when he was a Time Agent. He really didn’t want to go back to that, if he could at all possibly help it.
He would inform Ms Electricity and Ms Bullet In The Head of his decision in the morning, Jack decided, tipping back the last of his whisky, and departing from the tavern.
***
“D’you think I could have your names, ladies?” Jack asked, in a fake pleasant tone, sat across from them, the following morning. “I wanna know just who it is I’m addressing.”
Ms Electricity said, “Mrs Emily Holroyd.”
“And Miss Alice Guppy,” replied Ms Bullet In the Head.
“Have you changed your mind?” Mrs Holroyd asked him.
“Hell, no. I want nothing whatsoever to do with you, ladies,” Jack said forcefully.
“We could choose to make life even more difficult for you, Captain. You had certain acts you wished to perform with the Doctor, I recall,” Miss Guppy added, menacingly.
Oh, they were gonna play that card, were they, despite themselves? Did they honestly think he hadn’t noticed how they were practically draped all over each other?
After an incident in a bar, on Gammatron, in which nothing more than three little words and a simple peck on the lips had landed him and his Time Agency partner (an abrasive guy with an accent which sounded like he was from London, back on Earth) in prison for a day, Jack had made a decision. How much trouble his all-encompassing passions were potentially going to get him into, wherever his missions or cons took him, was almost always the first thing he researched, before heading to the time or place. Therefore, he had a brilliant comeback.
Rising from the chair, making the most of his height, Jack smiled maliciously, as he decided to forget about cocking up the time-line and told them, “I could choose to make life even more difficult for you, ladies, too. How many people in this city know what Torchwood is, or does? And, y’know, a bit less than seventy years’ time, that’s legal again, in most of Great Britain. Just over a hundred years’ time, it’s even more legal. Three thousand years’ time, no-one cares who anyone has sex with, at all. And some of the aliens out there are even hotter than humans.”
“Captain,” Mrs Holroyd said, looking up at him, “Again, I ask just how are you going to earn, if you do not join us?”
No reaction to all his pretty words? Jack was rather disappointed, but he grinned, and just replied, “Like I said, ladies. Same way I’ve been earning for quite a number of years.”
“And when your looks fade?” she asked, aiming for spite.
Jack laughed. “Not gonna happen for a very long time, Emily. Trust me on that. Goodbye, ladies. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but I’d be lying.”
With that, he stalked out of the office, out of Torchwood.
***
So, instead of joining Torchwood, Jack carried on like he’d been doing. And like there always had been, there were times where he found himself ensuring people (mainly girls and boys who were far too young to be doing this) didn’t go off with clients who he suspected were a threat.
Okay, so the person might swear at him, for loss of business, but Jack never hesitated to remind them that it was better safe than sorry. Or dead.
***
1904
One day, five years later, Jack found himself thinking that maybe he should take at least the kids under his protection, for the long term. No, he would take everyone who wanted it under his wing, he decided. When a building on the docks came up for sale, Jack snapped it right up and moved in.
Then, he put the word out among Cardiff’s lowlife that they could come to the Captain, and he would look after them.
***
Jack’s plan was that he would teach his expected people how to defend themselves; that would ensure their safety, out on the streets. To ensure their health, and for the bits he really didn’t want to deal with completely on his own, like avoiding syphilis, and all the other unpleasant STDs it was possible to contract in Edwardian Britain, Jack found and employed a couple of doctors, who he trusted implicitly.
“I need you to not judge any of us, at all,” he told them, as Doctors Martin Davies and Julia Smith sat across from him, in his new office. “Can you do that?”
“Yes, Captain. I promise we will do nothing of the sort,” Dr Smith solemnly replied.
“Thank you,” Jack said, smiling. “Welcome aboard.”
***
Word got around, and, yes, they came to Jack’s Tempus Fugit bordello, all of them; doxies, rent boys, queens, escorts, gigolos, drag artists, bisexuals, queers, lesbians, homosexual men. So many beautiful people, and they were all his. Although he’d kinda expected this result, Jack still could hardly believe his luck.
But some came to him almost completely green; not quite capable of obtaining a more normal job, but adoring sex. It was those kids that Jack needed to be particularly careful with, not sending them out until he was absolutely sure they would come back to him in one piece.
***
“Goods completely on display” was what Jack always declared, whenever someone new arrived at his establishment. If they had experience, observing their almost, or completely naked body would allow him see just how much they were able to make of it. The women tended to throw out their breasts, and the men usually swaggered.
There was a vague hint of swagger in the boy he was currently watching, and circling, as they stood in one of the bedrooms. It was late afternoon, and Jack figured the guy, who’d arrived on his doorstep this morning was eighteen or nineteen, and not all that experienced. But, goddesses, he was pretty, jet black hair, dark brown eyes, olive skin, ie, Italian, like a sizeable population of Cardiff.
It was then that Jack had an idea, to fully bring out this boy’s swagger. Maybe what he was about to do wasn’t the kind of thing that those in the business of procuring sex usually did. Jack, though, had never been usual.
“Gianni?” he addressed the boy, standing in front of him.
Those gorgeous eyes looked up at Jack, and Gianni Scalabrino smiled. “Jack?” he replied.
“I’m gonna teach you how to use that beautiful body of yours,” Jack informed him, running a finger down the middle of Gianni’s chest.
“We start now?” he asked, gazing up at Jack through his long, dark eyelashes.
Sneaky! Jack grinned, impressed. Gianni grinned back at him. Oh, he knew exactly what he’d been doing, with that move. “Yeah, we start now. And, okay, I’m gonna teach you how to use that beautiful body of yours even better,” he replied, amending his idea.
And that would be after he’d done one particular thing. Jack took Gianni’s head in his hands, and kissed him, on the lips, just once. That wasn’t standard practice for this, either, but he didn’t care. It would be standard practice for him, he decided. If his people needed lessons in sex, they would receive them.
And if they needed kisses, they would get them, too.
***
1905
Then there was the clothes shopping.
A couple of weeks ago, Elizabeth Summer had been with Jack for exactly four months, when she came to his office and simply declared, “I don’t feel that I’m a girl, Jack. Would you assist me with the purchase of a gentleman’s suit?”
Observing her, Jack had suspected she would come to him with this. In it, Elizabeth reminded him of female Time Agents and soldiers he’d known; the kind of women who’d try to make themselves taller and bigger than they actually were, with men’s clothes and shoes. Some failed, some pulled it off. Jack knew she would be successful - at 5’8”, with great shoulders, she was already slightly taller than average, for the times. “Sure, Elizabeth,” he’d replied, smiling gently. “I know just the place. D’you want a shorter hairstyle, too?”
“Yes, I do,” she’d said, very sure of herself, and her plan.
Now, watching her strut towards him, across the shop, Jack knew that he and Elizabeth had made the right choice, with the charcoal-coloured suit, and white shirt. The bespoke suit and off the peg shirt were accompanied by a belt, a pair of braces and a bowler hat. He thought she looked amazing, in the outfit.
Yeah, he had seen women (mainly artistic types who preferred the company of other women), in men’s clothes. They still identified themselves as women, though, a lot of them. It was just dressing-up, playing.
As for Elizabeth, she was quite clearly far more comfortable wearing those clothes, covering up what would normally show her to be female, along with having her hair cut like a boy's, than she had been in dresses, and girl’s hair.
Yeah, forget about propriety and convention, and go with what makes you happy.
“What do you think, Captain?” she asked huskily, looking him right in the eye.
He grinned at her. “Just a couple of things, I reckon.” Jack reached out, and undid the top two buttons on Elizabeth’s shirt, then adjusted the hat a little, putting it an angle. “There. Wear it like that (strategically dipped below one eye), it’ll be perfect. Out in the street, they’ll be falling over themselves to share a bed with you.” He kissed her cheek. “Now, are we splitting the cost, on this?”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Smiling, Elizabeth turned to Valentino Rosso, the tailor, an older, and greying, but still handsome Italian. (It was all the olive oil. Magic stuff, so many uses.) “Can I keep all this on, signore? It’s beautiful. Thank you for making it for me!”
“Si, si, signorina. Of course! Bella, bella!” Valentino replied, smiling back, his arms outstretched. “You pay, now, Capitano?” he asked, looking at Jack.
“Yeah, Valentino,” Jack said, reaching into his coat pocket for the wallets, and handing Elizabeth hers. “Grazie, as always, for your discretion.”
“Prego, Capitano, prego.”
Mission accomplished, they paid, and had Valentino wrap up Elizabeth’s dress for her. They then accepted his farewell kisses, and went on their way.
***
Later, Jack saw Elizabeth twirling, for Maria Palmer, before they kissed each other on the lips, which made him smile. Love’s love, after all.
And when he saw her exchanging the now discarded dress for another suit, courtesy of the terribly pretty David Hughes, he also smiled. David had the dress Jack knew he’d been after.
The suit? Well, the way it was cut, it wouldn’t fit her, at all, but Elizabeth had decided to be too polite to say so.
***
Jack and Bethan Williams began a series of visits to Miss Margaret Carmichael’s, to buy a dress. Bethan headed straight for the low cut dresses, the ones that did a fabulous job of emphasising cleavage.
Looking over at her from his position in the store, examining the accessories, Jack could see that something had caught her eye. Looked like green velvet, with flowers stitched onto it in gold thread. He made his way towards her. Then he could see the little extra touch on the dress; a very thin sable edging, around the cuffs and neck.
“It’s beautiful, Bethan,” Jack said, running his hand down a sleeve. “This the one you’d like to buy?”
“Oh, yes, Jack,” she replied, looking up at him, with a smile.
“Okay. Margaret!” he called, and Miss Carmichael came over.
“Captain. What can I do for you two, today?” she asked, in her blue velvet dress.
Bethan replied, “I’d like to try on this dress, please?”
“Of course, miss. Come with me, please.” Margaret led her to the changing rooms.
Bethan soon re-emerged, now wearing the dress, and she spun for him. Pale skin, dark hair and curves, all of which Jack loved. “Gorgeous,” he said, and smiled at her.
“I completely agree, Jack,” Margaret added, joining them. “Are you making a purchase, then?” she asked, glancing between him and Bethan.
“Yes, please, we are,” Bethan replied.
***
And when one of his men, Oliver Matthews, said he wanted to buy a dinner suit, Jack made yet another visit to Casa di Rosso.
“Jacket, trousers, bow tie, please, Valentino,” Oliver asked.
“Si, Signore Matthews,” the tailor said, as he finished taking measurements. “I find you bellisimo dinner suit.”
Jack watched, as Valentino handed the off the peg clothes to Oliver, who then went to change. He came back with the bow tie hanging around his neck.
“I haven’t got a bloody clue how to tie the thing, Jack,” he stated.
“C’mere.” Jack beckoned Oliver over, saying, “I have.”
“But isn’t that backwards, to your hands?” Oliver asked, an eyebrow slightly raised.
Jack looked away from the eyebrow, mass of curls and green eyes, instead concentrating on making the loops. “No, I learned how to tie them this way, as well as doing my own.”
“Sounds like it’s something you should teach the ladies, if they don’t already know.”
Oh, he’d done that before. Jack remembered teaching Rose how to do this, back in the TARDIS - evening wear, for visit to a London nightclub, in 1925. She’d been wearing a burgundy silk flapper dress, when she’d knocked on his door, hair piled up on top of her head, and carrying ostrich feathers…
“Jack, help me stick these in, will ya? Please?” Rose sounded and looked like she’d been struggling with the feathers.
Jack instantly took pity on her. “C’mere, you.” Not finished dressing, himself, he grinned at Rose, took her free hand and pulled her into his room. The TARDIS had been kind enough to provide him with one of those full length, tilting frame mirrors, and Jack led Rose over to it. “Gimme a feather, then, sweetheart.”
She handed one to him, and he carefully slid it into her hair. In the mirror, Jack then saw Rose raise an eyebrow. “Done this before, have ya, Captain? Helping girls dress up?”
He hadn’t been with them that long, so they hadn’t really discussed everything he’d done, in his previous lives, as a soldier, a Time Agent, a conman. “Yeah, Rose,” he said, watching her reflection, as he held out his hand for another feather. “Amazing, the kind of things I’ve had people teach me, for one reason or another.” He inserted the second feather into Rose’s hair with equal ease. “And all the many things I’ve taught, myself.”
“Certainly taught me a thing or two, Jack. You, an’ him,” Rose said, her tone halfway between wicked and serious.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack replied, in the same tone. Then he had an idea. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to do a bowtie, Rose?” he asked, pushing in the last feather.
“No, Jack. You gonna teach me?”
“Yeah. It’s really hot, having someone tie it for you.” Jack’s eyes went dark. “Even better, when they untie it.” He pulled his chair over to the mirror, and sat down on it. “Watch, Rose.” Jack did his tie himself, before getting Rose to do it, still in the mirror. They then moved away from the mirror. “Facing me, now, okay?”
“Yeah,” Rose said, and passed the loops around each other. She smiled up at him, pleased with her work.
Turning back to the mirror, Jack straightened up the tie, just a little. “If the Doc’s not already done his tie, offer your services, sweetheart. Should think he’ll have no idea what’s hit him.”
“You gonna untie it for him, Captain?” Rose asked, her meaning obvious.
“If I buy him that drink he says I have to, Miss Tyler.”
When they stumbled back into the TARDIS, at 1am, they were all three very drunk indeed. The dancing continued, in so many ways.
Finished, Jack looked at the guy again. “Excellent idea, Oliver! You wanna see what you look like, then?” he asked, steering him to a full length mirror.
***
Some of Jack’s more experienced people had arrived on his doorstep with their own items to “help the fun along”. Over time, these more experienced people showed these toys to the greener ones. And so the younger people wanted toys of their own. The shops that sold them were in the alleyways and back streets of the city. Jack either sent one of the doctors with the person who wished to make a purchase, or he went with them himself.
Today’s shopping trip had yielded an absolutely beautiful item, a feather duster, made with peacock feathers. When Jack saw the feathers, he had declared a lesson in how to use them, as soon as they got back. As Alexandra McCulloch ran her new prize across Jack’s naked chest, he enjoyed the feeling of the soft and silky feathers, before snatching it out her hand.
“Your turn, now, Alexandra,” he said, aiming her towards the bed. They climbed on, and Jack ran the feathers over Alexandra’s breasts, making her gasp rather prettily.
“Can I feel the feathers down my spine, Jack?” she then asked, and turned over before he instructed her to do so.
Jack was impressed. “Sure,” he said, smiling, and proceeded to run them very slowly down her spine. When he’d done that a few times, Alexandra took the feathers from him, tumbled him onto his front, and ran them down his spine. The feeling! Oh, she was great, this girl, so very aware of the sensuality of certain things.
Yes, she could use these feathers with her next client.
***
1909
Jack kept knowledge about the Rift, Torchwood, the Doctor and the TARDIS to a very small number of his people. The order he gave them was: “If you see anyone hanging about by the docks looking lost as hell, and you’re sure they’re not fakin’ it, tell them we can protect them and bring them back here, no questions asked.” Before Torchwood get their hands on them, because the Rift has a particularly active point there, and so they may well not be human.
In April 1909, exactly ten years to the day since Jack had turned down Torchwood, Elizabeth Summer brought a girl and boy back with her. She then took a seat in Jack’s office, to help him investigate the kids.
“She tell you... protect, Captain,” the girl said.
“Yeah, I protect,” Jack replied. “I protect lots of people.” The girl’s broken English made her sound kinda Eastern European. Given the year, he drew them a Star of David, and asked if they recognised it, before they went any further.
“We not know what this is,” the boy stated.
“Okay, okay,” Jack conceded, looking away.
With a sigh, he thought of another strategy. It was when he looked back that he saw the pair’s eyes and faces had changed. They were both green, whereas they had been blue, and pale pink. “Please don’t freak out, Elizabeth,” Jack whispered in her ear, “But I’m gonna talk to them in a language that isn’t from Earth. She nodded, in reply. Then, in Galactic Standard, although he had a suspicion, Jack asked, “Planet?”
“Don’t you know, Captain?” the girl asked, in the same tongue.
“Felis Chamelia, I figure, going by the eyes, and skin. Good job, pretending to be humans, by the way.”
“Correct, Captain. The pretence was necessary, when our ship crashed,” the boy then informed him.
“When your ship crashed?” Jack said, a bit high-pitched. Without another thought, he rose from his seat. “C’mon, we need get you back in the air, and on your way home, before someone else ensures you can’t, and steals your craft.”
***
When he returned to Tempus Fugit, Jack sat in his office and poured himself a whisky, to celebrate a good day, and an even better life.
Today was especially wonderful because he managed to keep a couple of pretty aliens and their ship out of Torchwood’s grubby little hands, and send them on their way home. He got a mechanic out of the adventure, too! Elizabeth had proved herself to be rather good with tools, helping with some of the repairs that needed to be made to the ship.
As for his life? Well, ten years after daring to say, “No,” to the pair of psychotic bitches who ran the institute back in ‘99, Emily Holroyd and Alice Guppy, he had his own business. Gorgeous girls and beautiful boys, all selling that most basic, and vital, of human experiences, sex. Jack looked after every single one of them, experienced, or entirely green, made sure no-one risked themselves too much.
Okay, so they’re all a little broken, but it could be worse, they could be completely on their own. At least with him, they’re relatively safe.
And they always will be.
-end-