FIC Torchwood: Tradition
Feb. 16th, 2007 09:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fajrdrako_ficTitle: Tradition
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Estelle
Warnings/Rating: G; spoilers for "Small Worlds"
Summary: Estelle's birthday, and Jack comes to take her out.
Tradition
Sixty-some years might never have passed. Estelle remembered it like yesterday: the Astoria, and Jack's unforgettable smile. She remembered him coming to her door, with flowers, the RAF pilot who stole her heart. What would her life have been like, if she had never met him?
Not nearly as exciting, she was sure.
He knocked at the door. She took a moment to pause at the mirror make sure her hair was neat - the third time she had checked in the past ten minutes. Then with a little thrill of pleasure, she opened the door.
He looked as he always looked. He didn't precisely wear the RAF pilot's uniform these days, but the military-style greatcoat and the old-fashioned shoes always reminded her of that first night she met him. He smiled warmly. "Happy birthday," he said, and handed her a bouquet of roses. Twelve red roses. "Oh, Jack!" said Estelle, blushing with pleasure as she took them from him. Their hands brushed together.
At that moment Moses darted past her, past Jack, and down to the street. "Oh, drat!" said Estelle, annoyed.
"I'll get him," said Jack. He thrust a package into her hand - a box wrapped in birthday paper - and ran full tilt after the cat, which had disappeared already past the neighbour's wall.
Estelle inhaled the scent of the roses. She shouldn't encourage Jack to such mad behaviour, making a fuss over her birthday, but she never could say 'no' to him. She left the present on the little table by the sofa, and went to the kitchen to put the roses into a vase with water, arranging them as best she could - that had never been one of her talents. She put the vase on the mantlepiece.
Jack came back through the door, the cat in his arms. It looked perfectly content to be there - who wouldn't? thought Estelle, smiling at the image. He sat on her sofa, coat, cat, and all, murmuring to it. "Don't you know it's rude to run off like that? You owe Estelle an apology." The cat closed its eyes to slits and stretched its chin as he rubbed its nape.
"Thank you for chasing after him." Estelle sat beside Jack. "It isn't like him to wander off. I think he just wanted some attention from you."
"He doesn't deserve it," said Jack firmly, still petting the cat. "This is your day, not his. He isn't the one I made a date with. It isn't even his birthday. That's it, enough." He deposited Moses onto the floor. "Go on. Shoo. Go chase mice. I've had enough of you."
Moses sat, watching him hopefully from a distance. Jack said to Estelle, "Well? You can open your present now." He handed it to her again, with a flourish.
"You shouldn't have," she said. She didn't want him to see how moved she was. He might think her lonely, and she didn't want his pity.
"You're right," he said smartly. "I shouldn't. I like doing things I shouldn't. Sheer self-indulgence on my part. Open it!"
It was a box of Belgian chocolates, her favourite kind. She opened it and offered him one. He picked one out, carefully, said, "Open your mouth!" and popped it in. Laughing, she savoured it. "How you always find the most beautiful roses in the city, I don't know. But the doctor says I shouldn't be eating chocolates."
"You can't stop me from corrupting you! It's one of my greatest pleasures. All that health food you eat. All those vegetarian meals. Natural foods - they're so unnatural!"
He always made her laugh. "You've been leading me astray since I was seventeen - how could I stop you now?"
He raised his eyebrows.
Oh dear. She had given herself away. She had pretended not to know who he was, but - well, they were friends, and more. So much for secrets between them. "Don't look at me like that. No, I'm not suddenly senile. Did you really think I believed you were your own father? You always were a talented con man, but that was a bit much for anyone to swallow. I knew you. I'll never forget you - and you haven't changed much since the day we met. We have, all the rest of us. You haven't. I don't know what you did or how you did it, but I know you're the man I met in 1944."
He didn't try to lie again. He said, with grave seriousness, "Have you told anyone?"
"No. They'd think I was mad. Have you?"
"It freaks people out if I say anything. So I don't."
"You love freaking people out! It's your favourite hobby. I've seen you do a masterful job of it too, all the time with a straight face. But I suppose you're right. Who would believe you were the same man who swept me off my feet when I was seventeen? So dashing and debonair."
"You would, obviously."
"Meeting you at an early age changed my perspective. I became accustomed to the extraordinary.... Besides, I read Heinlein, I watched Highlander. Do you have a sword?"
"No. Only my old Webley."
"Romantic enough. I can keep your secret, Jack. I only wish I knew what it was. Knowing you gave me hope - all those yoga classes, the meditation, the energy work - if you had found the secret of eternal life, perhaps I could, too. I'm sure it's done me a world of good, but it hasn't stopped time from passing, not for so much as one day. While time leaves you entirely alone."
"Not entirely," he said, but he did not explain. He took her hand, and held it, saying nothing.
"Meanwhile," she said firmly, squeezing his fingers, "You shouldn't be here helping an old woman celebrate her birthday."
"It's a tradition in my life."
"Then you need a new tradition! You should be taking out someone young and passionate. Someone lively, who can keep up with you. Someone," she smiled, "like that pretty young man in the suit, the one you brought to meet me last time you visited. Ianto Jones, wasn't it? You should ask him out. People do that kind of thing these days."
"He's elusive," said Jack, smiling back at her, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I don't have a chance. It's tragic, really."
She snorted in an unladylike way. "No chance? That just means you haven't paid any attention. I saw how he looked at you. He wants you. It terrifies him, but he likes a challenge, I'm sure. He's smart enough to figure it out. Turn your charm in his direction and you'll see."
"Since when are you a matchmaker? Trying to ditch me? We had a date, remember? You and me? The Captain and the birthday girl? Don't tell me you you don't like my company any more."
"How could I not? No one else flirts with me now."
"Their loss."
"Really, Jack. I'm serious! Just look at me. I'm old. Past my due date. Over the hill -"
"And halfway across the valley. I know exactly how old you are. I don't care. Why should I? You're still the Estelle I met in 1944."
"And you're still the irresistible con man. All right. I surrender. Where are we going?"
"Your birthday, your choice."
"Anywhere?"
"Anywhere."
"My yoga class is holding a vegetarian tea."
He laughed out loud.
"And my euchre club is looking for someone to take Charlie Braddock's place. He had a fall last month. He's still in hospital - so very sad."
"Playing cards? For money?"
"No, I'm not letting you fleece my friends!"
"I wouldn't cheat. I'd win all their hard-earned pension money fair and square. Will we get those little rolled-up cheese sandwiches, too?"
"Maybe."
"Irresistible!"
"Tease."
"You started it."
"So I did. All right. The jazz club?"
"The jazz club," he agreed. He rose, helping her up. He even held her coat at the door, just as he had in 1944. As she slipped it on, he kissed her ear. "You're good for me, Estelle."
She gave him a friendly hug. "And I always will be."
~ ~ ~
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Estelle
Warnings/Rating: G; spoilers for "Small Worlds"
Summary: Estelle's birthday, and Jack comes to take her out.
Tradition
Sixty-some years might never have passed. Estelle remembered it like yesterday: the Astoria, and Jack's unforgettable smile. She remembered him coming to her door, with flowers, the RAF pilot who stole her heart. What would her life have been like, if she had never met him?
Not nearly as exciting, she was sure.
He knocked at the door. She took a moment to pause at the mirror make sure her hair was neat - the third time she had checked in the past ten minutes. Then with a little thrill of pleasure, she opened the door.
He looked as he always looked. He didn't precisely wear the RAF pilot's uniform these days, but the military-style greatcoat and the old-fashioned shoes always reminded her of that first night she met him. He smiled warmly. "Happy birthday," he said, and handed her a bouquet of roses. Twelve red roses. "Oh, Jack!" said Estelle, blushing with pleasure as she took them from him. Their hands brushed together.
At that moment Moses darted past her, past Jack, and down to the street. "Oh, drat!" said Estelle, annoyed.
"I'll get him," said Jack. He thrust a package into her hand - a box wrapped in birthday paper - and ran full tilt after the cat, which had disappeared already past the neighbour's wall.
Estelle inhaled the scent of the roses. She shouldn't encourage Jack to such mad behaviour, making a fuss over her birthday, but she never could say 'no' to him. She left the present on the little table by the sofa, and went to the kitchen to put the roses into a vase with water, arranging them as best she could - that had never been one of her talents. She put the vase on the mantlepiece.
Jack came back through the door, the cat in his arms. It looked perfectly content to be there - who wouldn't? thought Estelle, smiling at the image. He sat on her sofa, coat, cat, and all, murmuring to it. "Don't you know it's rude to run off like that? You owe Estelle an apology." The cat closed its eyes to slits and stretched its chin as he rubbed its nape.
"Thank you for chasing after him." Estelle sat beside Jack. "It isn't like him to wander off. I think he just wanted some attention from you."
"He doesn't deserve it," said Jack firmly, still petting the cat. "This is your day, not his. He isn't the one I made a date with. It isn't even his birthday. That's it, enough." He deposited Moses onto the floor. "Go on. Shoo. Go chase mice. I've had enough of you."
Moses sat, watching him hopefully from a distance. Jack said to Estelle, "Well? You can open your present now." He handed it to her again, with a flourish.
"You shouldn't have," she said. She didn't want him to see how moved she was. He might think her lonely, and she didn't want his pity.
"You're right," he said smartly. "I shouldn't. I like doing things I shouldn't. Sheer self-indulgence on my part. Open it!"
It was a box of Belgian chocolates, her favourite kind. She opened it and offered him one. He picked one out, carefully, said, "Open your mouth!" and popped it in. Laughing, she savoured it. "How you always find the most beautiful roses in the city, I don't know. But the doctor says I shouldn't be eating chocolates."
"You can't stop me from corrupting you! It's one of my greatest pleasures. All that health food you eat. All those vegetarian meals. Natural foods - they're so unnatural!"
He always made her laugh. "You've been leading me astray since I was seventeen - how could I stop you now?"
He raised his eyebrows.
Oh dear. She had given herself away. She had pretended not to know who he was, but - well, they were friends, and more. So much for secrets between them. "Don't look at me like that. No, I'm not suddenly senile. Did you really think I believed you were your own father? You always were a talented con man, but that was a bit much for anyone to swallow. I knew you. I'll never forget you - and you haven't changed much since the day we met. We have, all the rest of us. You haven't. I don't know what you did or how you did it, but I know you're the man I met in 1944."
He didn't try to lie again. He said, with grave seriousness, "Have you told anyone?"
"No. They'd think I was mad. Have you?"
"It freaks people out if I say anything. So I don't."
"You love freaking people out! It's your favourite hobby. I've seen you do a masterful job of it too, all the time with a straight face. But I suppose you're right. Who would believe you were the same man who swept me off my feet when I was seventeen? So dashing and debonair."
"You would, obviously."
"Meeting you at an early age changed my perspective. I became accustomed to the extraordinary.... Besides, I read Heinlein, I watched Highlander. Do you have a sword?"
"No. Only my old Webley."
"Romantic enough. I can keep your secret, Jack. I only wish I knew what it was. Knowing you gave me hope - all those yoga classes, the meditation, the energy work - if you had found the secret of eternal life, perhaps I could, too. I'm sure it's done me a world of good, but it hasn't stopped time from passing, not for so much as one day. While time leaves you entirely alone."
"Not entirely," he said, but he did not explain. He took her hand, and held it, saying nothing.
"Meanwhile," she said firmly, squeezing his fingers, "You shouldn't be here helping an old woman celebrate her birthday."
"It's a tradition in my life."
"Then you need a new tradition! You should be taking out someone young and passionate. Someone lively, who can keep up with you. Someone," she smiled, "like that pretty young man in the suit, the one you brought to meet me last time you visited. Ianto Jones, wasn't it? You should ask him out. People do that kind of thing these days."
"He's elusive," said Jack, smiling back at her, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I don't have a chance. It's tragic, really."
She snorted in an unladylike way. "No chance? That just means you haven't paid any attention. I saw how he looked at you. He wants you. It terrifies him, but he likes a challenge, I'm sure. He's smart enough to figure it out. Turn your charm in his direction and you'll see."
"Since when are you a matchmaker? Trying to ditch me? We had a date, remember? You and me? The Captain and the birthday girl? Don't tell me you you don't like my company any more."
"How could I not? No one else flirts with me now."
"Their loss."
"Really, Jack. I'm serious! Just look at me. I'm old. Past my due date. Over the hill -"
"And halfway across the valley. I know exactly how old you are. I don't care. Why should I? You're still the Estelle I met in 1944."
"And you're still the irresistible con man. All right. I surrender. Where are we going?"
"Your birthday, your choice."
"Anywhere?"
"Anywhere."
"My yoga class is holding a vegetarian tea."
He laughed out loud.
"And my euchre club is looking for someone to take Charlie Braddock's place. He had a fall last month. He's still in hospital - so very sad."
"Playing cards? For money?"
"No, I'm not letting you fleece my friends!"
"I wouldn't cheat. I'd win all their hard-earned pension money fair and square. Will we get those little rolled-up cheese sandwiches, too?"
"Maybe."
"Irresistible!"
"Tease."
"You started it."
"So I did. All right. The jazz club?"
"The jazz club," he agreed. He rose, helping her up. He even held her coat at the door, just as he had in 1944. As she slipped it on, he kissed her ear. "You're good for me, Estelle."
She gave him a friendly hug. "And I always will be."
~ ~ ~