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longliveianto where I first found it, and I thought it should go here, as it gives us so much hope after the disaster that was the-series-that-shall-not-be-named. This is another fic that could be classed as canon if people wanted it to, in the words of the Doctor "Time can be rewritten."At this last, the Doctor saw Jack’s eyes light up with a kind of horrifying hope. The Doctor realized that Jack was in worse shape than he thought if he believed for an instant that the Time Lord would actually kill him.
coldHe shrugged on the coat that had been hanging over his arm - no-one would see it was an Air Force coat in the dark - and tugged the warm comforting material around him. Sadly this would have to go into storage at his lodging house with most of the rest of his things; he’d miss the coat, it was almost like it was a part of him. Taking one last glance at his new charge he turned and left the docks behind him. He rounded the corner of one of the cargo units, head bowed against the wind; and impacted with something warm and solid.
Glancing up, he was just in time to see a figure step round him with a clear “Sorry, Sir” before the figure was swallowed up by the darkness out towards the harbour. He’d barely seen the man, nothing really but shadow; yet still he was left with the lingering impression of blue grey eyes and a muttered ‘Like the coat’.
“Captain Harkness?”
Jack stared at the man who had seemingly materialised in front of him. Young and darkly handsome and dressed in what Jack quickly realised was a grey chauffeur’s uniform, complete with perfectly arranged hat and gloves; he presented an image that did serious things to Jack’s libido. “That’s me,” he confirmed with an easy grin. “I take it you’re here to take me for a ride?”
An eyebrow was raised and there was just the smallest quirk to the other’s lips. Very kissable lips, Jack was quick to note. “If by that you mean take you back to the House, sir, then I would agree. The car is this way.”
Jack didn't bother to contradict her, instead becoming distracted when his headset demanded his attention. A simple press of a button and he'd answered the call. "Yeah?"
He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting: Ianto calling to say he was bored, Owen calling to demand food, or Tosh to say she'd finished her reports. Something bland. Something neutral.
Instead, Tosh's stressed voice flooded into his ear. "Jack? It's Ianto – something's happened to him, I don't know what. I think he's hurt."
That was all he had to hear before he was drawing his gun and heading for the door: rushing to the rescue.
nixa_jane