Falling for someone like Jack Harkness was doomed to failure from the beginning.
She'd known that going into this though, of course. There were a thousand and more
barriers separating him from her -- and Torchwood and his apparent immortality were
just two of the most obvious ones. Rhys, Owen, Ianto, and "The Right Kind of
DOCTOR" (That's how it sounded to her every time he said, caps and everything)
made up four more very good reasons for her to her eyes glued on her work and not
let them follow the Captain around the Hub.
It wasn't like there was anyone else down here to shift the blame of her distraction
to either: Ianto was minding the front upstairs, Owen was still home recuperating from
being a damn idiot and locking himself in a cage with a Weevil, and Tosh... was
probably fussing over Owen.
The Weevil had been fed, a fun enough experience on its own; thankfully, it was
still licking its wounds as well and had stayed on the far end of its cell; and
Jack was feeding Myfanwy. Feeding said pterodactyl tended to consume all of one's
attention, lest you lose a limb or, at the very least, a hand, and she wasn't too
sure even Jack could regrow one. Maybe that was why he was so possessive of the
one in the jar? It was his spare? Nope, that didn't make any more sense than any other
possibility she'd come up with so far. Scratch that idea then.
(It had to belong to whoever it was that had Jack's heart. That was the running bet.
A hundred quid from each of them went to Tosh if that was right, and it would be awful
if a half-drunken suggestion was the correct guess.)
No, falling for someone like Jack Harkness would never end well for someone like her.
But Jack-watching... That was a hobby she could indulge in, from time to time.
And lie to herself in the meantime.
18 May 2007
And another little venture into the Whoniverse. And I havne't the foggiest why I keep latching on to Gwen as a narrator, but she does make a great Jack-observer, doesn't she?