The Arrival

chrisherwood:

He inhaled slowly, amazed that Jack was still wearing the familiar cologne and still dressing as he did when they’d lived together. He wonder if Jack had ever really moved on from that time. It was a fanciful thought, really. He knew Jack would have taken other lovers and he couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he reached up to brush the fringe out of the man’s eyes. “All this time you’ve been carrying that silly watch with you… have you ever had anyone else throw a tantrum and demand to be told who ‘C.W.B.I.’ is?” he asked, referring to the time he’d demanded to be told who a woman was in a picture Jack had. “Did you give them the same look you gave me when I asked things I shouldn’t have asked? Did you ever wish…”

His words trailed off and he shifted in Jack’s arms, moving closer until their lips were almost touching as he whispered, “because this past year, I’ve thought of you often and wished I could go back to Switzerland.” He pressed his lips to Jack’s tenderly, his head canting to the side just enough to bring them close together. He wasn’t certain Jack was available and really, Christopher was aware that should be the furthest thing from his mind.

He pulled away slowly, leaning back against the front of the sofa until his posture was straight and he could look Jack in the eye. All the previous signs of panic were gone as he wiped what little remnants of moisture were left from his skin. “I suppose I’ll need an alias,” he said softly as he shook his head, “and a flat… and furnishings. Do people still let furnished lodgings?”

Jack laughed and nodded some, letting him brush his hair out of his face. He licked his lips and thought of the time Ianto had asked about that watch, why they had never used it in their shenanigans and Jack had said it felt wrong. Ianto had gotten jealous of course, asked who it belonged to and it had turned into this big thing. He nodded at the question. “Oh yes, and jealousy abounds,” he teased even though he was serious. “He got jealous, majorly so, but he did when I talked to anyone other than him no matter what the context. So I took no mind to it.”

He let him shift and looked at him, inhaling a little bit as their lips were insanely close. It was like Berlin all over again and it was like time had shifted again. “You have no idea how many times I wish I would have never left,” Jack commented softly and let him kiss him. He closed his eyes and leaned in just a bit. When Christopher pulled away, Jack licked his lips and looked at him.

“Mm, you will, we can … handle all of that, the alias and paperwork,” he commented. “And they do, yes. This is one I’ve rented.”

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

Christopher licked his lips. He knew that he couldn’t argue with Jack about Jack supporting him, not yet anyway. He closed his eyes and nuzzled close to Jack, the distance he’d put between them emotionally was crumbling so easily it almost hurt. “Okay,” he said softly. “You’re right. It’ll be okay. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jack watched him and smiled a little bit. “I’m glad I was here too,” Jack said. If he had come through the Rift any earlier, Jack wouldn’t have been here and this … could have ended way worse than it did now. He inhaled a little bit and slid his arms around him again to pull him close. “So many things are different now and … while this isn’t ideal for you there are so many things that I really can’t wait or you to see.”

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

It had been difficult saying good-bye, but it had been made easier knowing that whatever happened, Jack would survive. Even knowing that, it had been difficult to accept Jack throwing himself at danger. He was starting to feel more calm now, his body relaxing against Jack, curled up on the floor of his flat as if no time had passed between them at all. Even for Christopher it had been a year, and for Jack… who knew?

“Oh Jack,” he whispered softly, his fingers reaching out to brush against the silver engraved with Jack’s initials. The watch was familiar, though clearly aged now. Jack took good care of it, it was well polished, but there were still scratches from daily wear and tear. “After all these years, you still carry it?” he asked.

Jack held the watch in his hand and had kept it close, always kept it close. He was a sentimental old sod that way; he couldn’t really help it. He licked his lips and smiled when Chris reached out to touch the watch, nodding a little bit. “Right here,” he commented and patted his waistcoat. “Always,” he answered and looked at Christopher in the eye. “I told you I loved it and I meant it,” he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to Christopher’s temple. “It’s been through everything with me and it’s almost as indestructible as me.”

He grinned and touched his face. “We’ll work it out okay? I’ve been saving money since … well, since way before you met me,” he commented quietly. “And I have way more now so don’t worry too much.”

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

Christopher shook his head slowly and leaned forward to rest his cheek on Jack’s shoulder. The tears were still falling as he slid forward, wedging himself between the sofa and Jack. The closeness brought him comfort, though it didn’t stop the tears.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whimpered softly as he curled into Jack. “Everything I owned and everything I did and everyone I knew… they’re just… gone. Auden and Sally and my brother Richard and my mother… and everyone.”

He wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist; the tears were subsiding slowly and he shifted to lean his head on Jack’s chest. His panic and fear were starting to fade with the sound of the other man’s heart beating echoing in his ear.

And Jack held him close, both arms around him and keeping the man protectively against his chest. He rested his cheek against the top of his head and listened, the feeling of deja vu was strong. But this was so much different than before — this was a man he had left behind to go to war and now he was stuck in a whole different millennium from the one he knew. He slid his fingers against Christopher’s back, just letting him talk.

Jack knew what he had to do — he knew what he had to do but for now, he would just sit here with him. “We’ll work it out okay, just … one step at a time,” he kept hold of Christopher, taking in the familiar smell of him and the feel of his solid weight against him. “Want to see something?” Jack whispered against his ear.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the watch, waiting for Christopher to notice.

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

Christopher stepped into the flat unable to stop staring at just how many things had changed in the last half a century. There were very few appliances he actually recognised, the furniture style was completely different. How would he ever catch up? How could he get used to this time?

As Jack’s words settled in Christopher sunk down onto the sofa. His expression was still impassive, but there was a hint of sadness. What about everything he’d lost? “What… what happens now?” he asked softly.

He had already given up Jack; he didn’t expect anything to continue between them. Jack had probably moved on (as had Christopher) to other lovers in other places. But what… what was he to do? He was mostly surviving on royalties from his novels (which he’d never be able to claim now… his work was now public domain) and from his family’s money (which had likely gone into an estate that was eventually claimed by the state).

“I’ve got no place to stay, no way to earn a living, no… no… anything.” His mask crumbled and Christopher buried his face in his hand trying to contain the sobs that were threatening to escape him. He couldn’t stop the tears, however, and they began to fall unbidden.

Jack shrugged out of his coat once he was inside the house and looked at Christopher as he sat down on the couch. He exhaled slowly and pursed his lips, thinking about this too. The man was out of time and it took him back to a time long ago that he didn’t want to relive. He sighed some and let Christopher have this moment. “We will figure it all out, okay?” Jack had money, centuries worth. He could make it work and … they’d figure it out.

Jack had lost so much already that this was the brightest spot of his whole life.

He kept his hands in his pockets and looked at his shoes for a moment. He stayed silent, but the second he started to cry, Jack moved over to him and sat on his knees in front of him, pulling him close. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” he slid one hand against the back of his neck and just held him as close as he could given the position.

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

It wasn’t alright. It wasn’t alright at all, but Christopher took the offered hand, doing his best not to gawk and stare like the tourist he was. “What… what do I do now? What about the rest of my life?” he asked softly as Jack lead him to the flat. He was certain he was asking too many questions right now. Jack likely didn’t have the answers to them either this moment.

He gave Jack’s hand a squeeze and sighed softly to himself. His brain was moving too fast, a result of the rush of adrenaline that had hit him. He needed to focus. “We can go back, right? I mean… I… I can go back.”

Jack slid his fingers through Christopher’s and stood there, holding his hand a second. He wanted people to see and he wanted Christopher to see that no one was going to make a big deal about that. “We’ll figure it out, you’ve already lived your life by this point,” he commented and looked at Christopher, tilting his head as they walked. He used his key to let them in and opened the door so Christopher could go in first.

He gave his hand a squeeze and looked at him. Jack didn’t say anything and he … just watched him, closing his eyes a second before stepping in and shutting the door behind him. “No,” he answered quietly. “We haven’t figured out how.”

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

He looked at Jack, before closing his eyes, finally giving in to the panic. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on Jack’s shoulder. He was still holding on to the coat’s arm tightly, but some of what Jack had told him about the future was coming back. Who he was was more acceptable now, and that was a comfort, because he needed Jack’s support.

“I want… I need to get off the street,” he said softly. “I need somewhere to go to think and… and…”

He exhaled slowly and stood straighter, meeting Jack’s eyes. His fear and uncertainty was showing in his face. He had no idea what to do and that was highly unusual for Christopher.

Jack let him, leaning his cheek against the side of Christopher’s head for a moment and held on to him. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, listening to the man’s labored breathing and exhaled slowly once more. He pursed his lips together and nodded a bit. “I have a flat right around the corner,” he commented, watching him and it was a good thing he had already been heading there so this wasn’t changing anything.

Even if it was, everything else didn’t matter for now.

He didn’t like that look on Christopher’s face, not for a second and he held out a hand for him. He didn’t say anything else, just wiggled his fingers and beckoned for the man to take his hand. He smiled a little bit. “It’s alright, c’mon.”

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

The year echoed in his head and Christopher felt the world spin around him. He had to reach for Jack to steady himself, and he inhaled sharply as panic began to set in. “That’s… over seventy years. Seventy. My God.”

He tightened his grip on Jack’s coat and took a deep breath. “How?” he asked breathlessly. He exhaled slowly and tried to push the rising panic down; tried and failed. 

He thought he should be taking this better, but it was difficult to do so. What about the things Jack had told him about his own future? What about the novels he was supposed to write? What about becoming famous? What about meeting back up thirty years after they parted? Oh God… that would have been forty years ago.

The coat was the only thing keeping him locked into reality as a whimper escaped him. “What should we do?”

When Christopher reached out to hold on to his coat, Jack reached out and held on to his arms. He didn’t say anything and just held on to him, letting it sink in and he could see the utter panic bubbling beneath the surface. He exhaled slowly and shook his head. “No one knows how the rift works,” he commented quietly. “It just does,” He replied and knew that was no explanation. He wished he had better answers for the man who always sought logical explanations for everything.

Jack felt like a failure in the way he couldn’t offer him that.

Christopher’s grip on his coat tightened and Jack slid his hands to the man’s face for just a second before sliding them down to his arms again. “Whatever you want to do, you have me here,” he commented quietly. The words were on the tip of Jack’s tongue and he couldn’t say them. You can’t go back.

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

Christopher swallowed hard. He felt weak to the knees with fear, but he couldn’t show it. One didn’t reveal one’s emotions. “Rift?” he asked softly. He knew about Jack. He knew Jack’s mad story of immortality and time travel. He’d seen Jack die and come back to life. He’d watch him be mended back together magically after getting hit by a car.

But the reality of his former lover’s eccentricities was something entirely different than finding oneself caught up in something from a science fiction novel. It was difficult to accept. It was even more difficult to understand. How had he gotten here? Some sort of time machine? Had Jack gotten that wrist strap of his working? If so, why hadn’t he seen the other man before everything changed?

He closed his eyes at Jack’s comment and exhaled slowly, summoning all of his inner strength to force him to keep himself together. “It’s only been a year since we parted for me,” he explained after a moment. “How… how long has it been?”

Jack watched him and he could see the myriad of emotions underneath the surface. He knew this man; he had spent a great deal of time with him and had learned his own eccentricities. Years of it being drilled into his head had made Christopher almost fear showing emotion when it counted the most; his mother had made it seem as though emotions were a weakness and Jack had tried hard to show him that they weren’t. He tilted his head and simply nodded in response to his question, his hands in his trousers pockets.

Christopher knew things that Jack should have never told him in a million years — at the time, Jack didn’t know how his quirk had come to be nor did he know that it couldn’t be reversed. Time had changed so much for him and so much had been lost between their time together but … the feelings were right there, underneath the surface, as they always had been with everyone Jack had ever given his attention to.

Jack sighed heavily and looked down at his shoes at the question. “It’s been a really long time for me,” he commented and turned his head to look into Chris’ eyes. Everything was right there — so fresh for Christopher; Jack saw all those years in his eyes as if it were yesterday for him as well. “You’re in the year 2012.”

The Arrival

chrisherwood:

Oh. It was him. It was him, and he hadn’t changed and his voice was familiar. Everything about the other man was familiar. He closed the distance between them, resisting the urge to pull Jack into his arms and bury his nose in the other man’s neck and just inhale the scent of him. His eyes swept the other man’s body before meeting his eyes.

There. There was the difference. They seemed darker some how. Lonelier. Tinged with pain. War changed people, but this…

Christopher’s brows knitted together, and he exhaled slowly. “Captain Harkness,” he said softly before clenching his jaw in thought. “This is not the Cardiff I was in a moment ago,” he added after a moment. If anyone could explain this to him, it was Jack.

Jack stayed rooted in place, watching the man come closer and he wondered if this was another trick of his already overwrought imagination. His mind had taken to showing him dead lovers everywhere he went at odd times and he was never sure if it was real or a fragment of his hopes playing up on him. He licked his lips and just stood there, hands in his pockets Christopher spoke.

He looked the same — he looked the same as when Jack had to go back to duty with the RAF all those years ago and this had to be a trick of some kind. He knew it was, but … Jack was realistic and knew that this had to be one of the ‘blips’ from the rift monitor on his wrist. “The Rift,” he commented quietly. “There’s … there’s a rift in time and space that runs through Cardiff and it must have … it must have … brought you here,” Jack said, feeling nervous for some reason. “You have not changed a bit.”