Ch.13 The Inspection Man
Jack sat in his car. He stared at the paper he held in his hand. A single tear escaped and fell gracefully down his cheek, burning a path. His face flushed and contorted in agony for a moment, his breath halting. The world stopped for a moment and then he let go, air rushing out of his lungs and his face calmed as more tears slid down his cheeks. Jack hastily wiped them away. He took one last look at the paper, the photo, in his hand before he put it in his pocket.
He sat for minutes.
Those minutes felt like hours and then days to him.
When the blood that had rushed into his head had settled down, when his heart rate slowed and his breathing returned to normal, he opened his eyes and looked at the residence before him. It was her house. He's done just watching as the memories of him slipped further and further away; he came to remind her.
He pulled open his glove compartment and looked through it, before finally pulling out an ID and putting it away in his pocket.
He took a deep breath.
In.
Out.
He stood from the car. He took a step. And another. And another. He walked to the house; there was no turning back. He rang the doorbell. He waited. Inside, he heard a woman's voice shooing someone—or something—in a babyish tone. And he remembered. He choked back a sob. He waited. The woman's voice was getting closer. He waited. The door slowly opened. Behind it stood a smiling silver-eyed woman.
"Hello." He stood there stupidly for a few moments, just taking in her sight. He shook himself of his silliness when she raised her eyebrows in a very 'I-don't-have-all-day' look. "My name's Jack Harkness." He raised his ID. "I've come on the routine house inspection—We're making sure there is no gas leakage." She smiled and nodded, stepping aside and letting the stranger—to her—inside.
He walked throughout the house, looking closely at the books on the bookshelves, the pictures lining the mantel, and the paintings hanging on the walls. A border collie came trotting out of the bedroom, yawning lazily and moving towards Jack, before turning and sitting down right in front of him, leaning her head backwards and giving him the 'puppy eyes.' He smiled and rubbed the dogs' head, laughing when she lay down and showed him her belly.
When Jack looked up, he saw Tegan leaning against the kitchen door jam, looking at him and slightly frowning. He swallowed, and got up off the floor murmuring a faint 'Sorry,' not looking her directly in the eyes.
"Have we met somewhere before?" His head snapped up, his eyes only briefly meeting hers before sliding to her shoulder. He was surprised—he didn't expect her to be the type of person to directly talk to civil workers. What's more was her tone of voice and words themselves—a frustrated sound. Why was she asking if they'd met? Could she possibly faintly remember him? He knows that Gwen had given her more than the recommended dose of retcon. He silenced his train of though and took a breath.
"Quite possibly. It is Cardiff. Not exactly a small town, but small enough to run into a person a few times over." He kept his voice steady and calm—though that was a different story in his mind.
"Hmmm." She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes and a single eyebrow furrowing, as she looked at her floor in seeming concentration. Suddenly, her eyes snapped to his and her facial expression relaxed. "Tegan Farrow." She said.
"What?" He asked, looking inquired and confused.
"My name. It's Tegan Farrow. Though I supposed that's on your charts… Or whatever you look at for the home inspection." She smiled a friendly smile, one that Jack couldn't help but return.
"It's very nice to meet you, Tegan."
She smiled at him again, this time a softer, almost loving smile. He smiled once again, though this time it was sad because he was reminded of the woman he met at the bar who had sad, wise and understanding eyes. This woman now closed all that away for nobody to see. He wanted to help that part of her; he wanted to hold her as she cried out whatever sorrows she had. He didn't understand—what was so special about her that she can bypass the hub's defense systems with pure will and that Gwen would retcon her and that he would want to hold cradle her?
"Would you like some tea? I've got ice tea, but I can also make some hot tea, as I know that's what people like around here." She called from the kitchen; Jack smiled at the sound of her hospitality.
"Ice is fine!" He called to her, leaning down to the dog—Suzy; he read off her collar as he pet her, rubbing her belly.
Minutes later, Tegan came walking out of the kitchen with two tall glasses of ice tea in tow, smiling at the sight of her visitor rubbing the dog. She nodded to Jack, who got up and sat on the comfortable sitting chair beside him, accepting the tea from her.
They sat in silence, both sipping their tea and wondering what the other where thinking. Jack stared at her and she at him, the tense air seemingly suffocating them both. To her he was just a familiar stranger—to him she was a strange girl who was, for all he new, an enemy. But Jack had a feeling that she wasn't an enemy. He felt that she was, quite possibly, the most innocent person he'd met yet. He eyed the silver band on her right ring finger.
"So where's Mr. Farrow? At Work?" Jack asked conversationally, breaking the awkward silence.
She looked surprised, confused, then glanced at her hand and smiled a little. "I'm not married," she admitted to Jack, "This is my purity ring. I got it when I was fourteen; a present from my Mother and Father." She explained, and Jack was even more impressed by her seeming innocence and confession. But why does she seem so sad? He thought as her expression changed from interest to slight agony.
"Did you stick to it? The purity, I mean." He asked, then explained further when she looked confused. She smiled shyly.
"That's a little personal, but I don't mind. Yes—I've never had a boyfriend, never even kissed a guy—I've never really held that type of interest in a person unless I could see myself with them forever—And I never saw that. I'm sure my parents died proud of their innocent little girl." The last she said bitterly and more to herself.
Jack was shocked. Really? Never even kissed a guy? She really was innocent—and her parents—she said they were dead. That explains the hint of pain and bitterness when she said that the ring was a present. She's still in mourning. Jack wondered how long ago they passed.
Seeing the slight pain lingering in her expression, he leaned over and covered her hand with his, telling her that he was sorry for bringing it up and that it was really inappropriate of him. She nodded and said 'Thank you,' though he knew she didn't believe him when he said he was sorry. He knows how that feels. He brought his other hand up, and lifted her chin, their eyes meeting. "I really am sorry for your loss—I know it's hard to lose someone you lo—" He couldn't finish his sentence, choking off and trying hard not to cry. Ianto. His grandson. Toshiko. Owen. Estelle. Rose. So many. He'd lost them all. He was still looking into Tegan's eyes. They were so sad and so wise and so understanding. Just like when they met. His hand was still under her chin—his other over hers in her lap. He knew he was crying, but he didn't move away.
Her eyes were so beautiful. She was so beautiful. Her skin was so soft. He leaned closer. She leaned closer. She was crying now. And when they kissed, Jack could feel their tears mixing. It occurred to him that he was the first person she'd ever kissed. It felt like she was his first kiss. He felt their souls dancing. He forgot about the people he was crying for. All there was was Tegan. The way she talked, the way she smelt, like strawberries and pomegranate and the ocean and freshly mown grass. Her smile, her eyes were all he saw, her lips all he felt.
He opened his eyes when they broke for air. He didn't even know when he closed them. He stared at Tegan. She was breathing hard. It sent shivers down his spine to know that it was because of him. Her eyes were closed. She wasn't crying anymore—though her cheeks were wet with her and Jack's tears. Her hair was a tangle of dark brown—he didn't remember running his hands through it, though he did know that it was beautifully soft.
She opened her eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And pushed him off her.
"Who the hell are you? Why did you come here pretending to be a home inspection worker? Don't you even dare deny it—I know a fake ID when I see it! Did you think you could get into some girls pants by saying you're sorry for their loss? Unless you're really here for something, I suggest you get the hell out of here! I can't really report you—I highly doubt you wear that all the time and I'm sure that Jack Harkness isn't really your name. So get out of here, stop wasting my time!"
Jack stumbled back a few steps as if she'd slapped him in the face. He was completely shocked. Suddenly she wasn't an innocent little girl anymore—she was a strong woman who wasn't taking any crap from anyone. I should probably be glad she doesn't own a gun he thought. He looked into her eyes once again. They were hard stones—but underneath that he could she that she was truly pained and confused. He sat down in the armchair again, suddenly uncomfortable but he knew that he had to tell her the truth.
"My name is Jack Harkness. Captain Jack Harkness. You're right about the ID—I don't work for home inspection. I'm in a special operation team called Torchwood. I need you to listen closely to everything I have to say—it's vitally important information that shouldn't be shared with civilians. I didn't come here on the intention to kiss you—And I'm sorry for that. I came here because I wanted to see if you remembered anything that had happened to you a few weeks ago. A colleague of mine went behind my back a slipped an amnesia pill into your tea. At a bar. The same bar that we met. You had came it looking disgusted and confused and a little sad, and then accidentally knocked into a waiter, sending the drinks crashing to the ground. You helped him gather the glass, and he went to get a mop. I came over and helped you a bit. You looked at me a little shocked. Then I took my things and left the bar. You followed me. There's an entrance to my building—right by a sidewalk. The sidewalk has security defenses—I don't want to explain the system. I hardly know it myself.
"You're not supposed to be able to get even close to the sidewalk without forgetting about it or ignoring it. You're not even supposed to notice it. I saw you on the security videos—you were staring straight at it—walking straight towards it. I heightened the defense. When it's that high, you're not supposed to get even twenty feet within it, unless you had some type of protector. The system ran a scan on you—neither protectors nor biodampers. You walked right up to that sidewalk—three feet away! Then you turned and ran away.
"Since then you've been on my mind. I don't know how you got past the system—it troubles me. We keep meeting, too. My colleague had a kid a few days ago. The same hospital you were in—I still don't know why you were at the hospital, you seem in perfect health—And you ran into her husband in the stairwell. Here—I have a picture."
And Jack pulled out of his pocket a picture of him, Rhys and Gwen. He handed it to Tegan, who sat in a silent fury. She looked at it, blinked, and then looked again. Her tears came down faster now, her face contorting in painful agony.
"Get out." She said quietly. Jack almost didn't hear her. He was desperate for her to believe him—he needed it. He stayed where he was.
She glared up at him, handing him the picture back.
"Get out." She repeated. He shook his head.
"Get out!" She yelled standing up in a fury and advancing toward him. He stayed still. When she met his still body, she flung her fists at his chest—pounding against him and sobbing—choking out the words 'get out!' and 'I don't remember this!' and 'just leave!'
He finally turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. He could hear Tegan's sobs, and her feet pounding against the floor and the slam of a door—probably her bedroom—and then silence. He walked to his car. He went home.
He went to his chambers and took off his clothes.
There, on his chest, were bruises where she had pounded her fists.
He knew that his lips weren't really swollen.
He pressed his fingers timidly against his lips, closing his eyes and remembering Tegan's first kiss.
And then he bursts into tears.
He'd kissed her.
Then he—He lied to her!
At least, that's what she told herself.
But she knew that wasn't true.
He showed the picture of himself, a woman she'd never met—at least she thinks he didn't—and that man. The man from the hospital. She barely remembered that night.
But his eyes, they were so familiar.
She balled.
She ran to her room.
She slammed the door behind her.
She tripped on her pants, crashing to the ground the same moment the door slammed. Anyone outside the room wouldn't have heard her crash painfully to the ground.
She lay there.
She cried.
In a fit of fury, she balled the pants that she'd tripped over in her hands.
And she saw something white in her pocket.
She pulled it out.
It read:
READ ME:
There's a pub with black doors in town—Lucky Jacks. The man with the sad blue eyes was there. The sidewalk is somewhere close.
Hours:
Tuesday-Thursday 8pm-1am
Friday-Sunday 12pm-3am
And then Tegan remembered everything.
Jack.
The man from the pub.
The woman that sat in her booth.
Oh, shit. I've met him—Jack. I was never meant to save him. He saved me. He kissed me. My first kiss. And I kicked him out.
Shit.
