InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "There's a little black spot."

capt_harkness (capt_harkness) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-10 23:53:00

Entry tags:

!dropped, day 10, jack harkness, location: museum, shannon rutherford

WHO: Jack Harkness, Shannon Rutherford
WHAT: Jack takes over Shannon!watch
WHEN: 17:00
WHERE: The Museum
RATING: G! seeing who's paying attention
STATUS: Active

There was one person he still hadn't seen following the earthquake. Well, two counting the Doctor but Jack was certain the man was going to be fine. The two of them had seen far worse scrapes over the years and an earthquake seemed inconsequential compared to an army of Daleks. Then again, there they had known what they'd be up against. Vas Captio was a veritable unknown.

Getting Ianto to safety had been Jack's primary concern, though his conversations with the Insider through the journals wasn't helping to ease his mind. Still, Jack knew where his place was and, as much as he wanted to stay and keep Ianto safe, he couldn't. He was the hero and he would do the work of heroes: getting everyone else out safe and then figuring out what to do from there. Having not seen Shannon thus far, Jack worried that she was still trapped under god knew how much more debris.

Moving at a full-out run, Jack moved quickly through the rubble, vaulting over piles of stone, not slowing until he approached the remains of the muesum. God, they'd have to find something by way of shelter now -- the museum wasn't habitable. Squinting, Jack could see two figures near the crumbling foundation and he picked up his pace once more, relief coursing through his veins as he caught sight of her.

Thank god.

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ballerinadreams
2009-06-11 12:05 am UTC (link)

Shannon nodded and looked down. She imagined that in Jack's line of work - whatever it was, as she still didn't quite understand the details - he'd seen just as bad or worse, so she believed him. What really mattered, she supposed, was that he was okay and Ianto was okay. There was still worry settled in her stomach for Dean, for Domeki - whom she hadn't heard from in days, which made her sick to think about - and for the handful of others with whom she'd become close in this awful place. Four down, too many more to go, she thought, when it came to finding out who was still alive. Scratch that. She didn't want to think about it.

"Sorry," she said softly when his head turned sharply to look at her. But, he answered and said that he had. She wanted to ask what it felt like to die. If there was anything beyond. She wanted to ask if it hurt. Not because she cared to know, but because she was still trying to deal with Boone's death and if Jack would be able to tell her that he didn't feel any pain when he died and that there really was the proverbial white light at the end of a tunnel, maybe she would feel some closure for Boone. But, she didn't ask, because if Jack couldn't tell her those things, she'd be worse off for knowing. It wasn't any of her business, anyway, she told herself.

When Jack slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, Shannon squeezed her eyes shut and hissed in pain. "Easy," she gasped, tears springing to her eyes more out of her body's own reflex than the desire to cry. She'd cried enough for the day, so far, she thought, and she didn't necessarily feel like doing it again anytime soon. "Yeah, floorboard," she sighed. "It's fine, I took it out and Sam pulled out the splinters," she insisted. "And then Gambit tied his shirt around it..."

She could tell by the look on Jack's face and the way that he'd moved when she'd said it, that whether Shannon liked it or not, Jack was going to have a look at it. So, rather than fight him, she lifted her arms over her head, affording him the opportunity to untie the shirt and move it away. "It's up kinda high," she added to explain when she dropped one of her arms back down only to pull up her tanktop just below where her bra settled against her skin.

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capt_harkness
2009-06-11 12:19 am UTC (link)

Confessing what exactly he and Torchwood did would take a fair bit of persuasion. It wasn't as if he didn't trust her, it was that he couldn't trust that she wouldn't freak out. In her world, all the contact with aliens had never existed (or so he assumed) -- there were no aliens in Downing street and there was never any spaceships over London. So, while she might not have flinched too much at the Weevils, going into his complete line of work wasn't top on Jack's list of things to do anytime soon. Still, if she asked, he'd tell her the reader's digest version that wouldn't have her calling him mental.

"I'm okay," Jack said, reaching for a hand and lightly squeezing. "Promise you I'm the same Jack, in every detail. And I do mean every." They just needed a little bit of levity inspite of the wretched situation that surrounded them. But when it came to death -- he would tell her if she wanted to know. It wasn't like t here was much to tell anyway -- and his own private hell where Gray was concerned could very easily be omitted.

Wincing, Jack murmured an apology under his breath. He had tried to be as careful as humanly possible, but apparently had failed miserably in that regard. "Floorboard." Jack repeated once more, wondering how a floorboard in the side was not supposed to cause alarm and constituted her being 'fine'. Not in his book. He did want to see the extent of the injury, and if it was bad, figure out a way to get her to the make-shift clinic.

Somehow, a repeat performance of throwing her over his shoulder didn't seem like the greatest idea in the world. Not wit a gash the size of Germany in her side. "Nothing I haven't seen before," Jack said with a cheeky grin. The smile, however, faded when he saw the state of her side. "Where does it hurt?" he asked, slowly peeling the blood-soaked shirt away from her side. He moved slowly, not wanting to dislodge any of the scabbing that had begun to form, stopping the flow of blood. "And, frankly, why didn't that guy take you to the gym for treatment?"

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