ext_3474 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
visionshadows.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-04-27 07:54 pm
visionshadows.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-04-27 07:54 pm
Shell Shock by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparking_off (PG-13)
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: gen; Jack, Gerald, and Harriet
Length: ~3200
Author on LJ:sparking_off
Author's Website: Masterlist of Fic
Why this must be read?: This is Jack post-World War I suffering from shell shock and survivor's guilt. This is Jack letting go the only way how. This is a raw and painful Jack who can't let the horrors he's seen go. This is also the story of Gerald as the leader of Torchwood 3 and how he deals with Jack as a friend and colleague when Jack can't deal with himself any longer.
This is a wonderful fic that helps to fill in Jack's story as well as Gerald and Harriet's. Take a few minutes and savor this great bit of fic!
“It’s late, Jack,” he said aloud, stepping out of his office. “You should be at home.”
“Gerald!” Jack didn’t lift his head, but he raised his bottle in greeting. “Come and join me. I have…” He moved the bottle closer to his face, squinting to read the label. “Some sort of whisky,” he decided at last.
“Oh yes?” Gerald wandered closer, holding back a sigh. “And how many bottles have you had tonight?”
“Far too few,” said Jack, and pushed himself upright. He shuffled across the floor to lean against Harriet’s desk, managing to dislodge a slew of paperwork as he did so. Gerald watched as requisition forms and archive notes drifted slowly to the floor. Jack raised the bottle to his mouth and took a swig.
“You’re drunk, Jack,” Gerald said, and did sigh now. That meant Jack had already drunk at least two bottles of hard liquor – it took a lot to get the immortal intoxicated, although Jack was as elusive about the reasons for that as he was about almost everything else.
“Yup,” Jack said, and tilted his head back to look upwards again. “I really am.” Gerald took another deep breath, something he did far too often around the capricious Captain, and after a moment’s pause he joined Jack on the floor. Jack glanced at him, a flash of blue eyes, and grinned lopsidedly. “Good! I hate drinking alone. There’s something…maudlin about it.”
“Quite possibly,” agreed Gerald, reaching for the bottle. Jack relinquished it easily enough, and Gerald took a cautious sip. It was good whisky; not that he had expected anything less. Jack had refined tastes in alcohol, among other things – particularly since he had returned. Gerald could only imagine what it had been like for the soldiers on the front. He had seen the state of those sent home injured, and the condition of the men who had returned after the Armistice.
He passed Jack the bottle before it was demanded. He knew Jack in these moods; denying the other man something simple like a bottle of whiskey would be cruel.
Shell Shock bysparking_off
Pairing: gen; Jack, Gerald, and Harriet
Length: ~3200
Author on LJ:
sparking_offAuthor's Website: Masterlist of Fic
Why this must be read?: This is Jack post-World War I suffering from shell shock and survivor's guilt. This is Jack letting go the only way how. This is a raw and painful Jack who can't let the horrors he's seen go. This is also the story of Gerald as the leader of Torchwood 3 and how he deals with Jack as a friend and colleague when Jack can't deal with himself any longer.
This is a wonderful fic that helps to fill in Jack's story as well as Gerald and Harriet's. Take a few minutes and savor this great bit of fic!
“It’s late, Jack,” he said aloud, stepping out of his office. “You should be at home.”
“Gerald!” Jack didn’t lift his head, but he raised his bottle in greeting. “Come and join me. I have…” He moved the bottle closer to his face, squinting to read the label. “Some sort of whisky,” he decided at last.
“Oh yes?” Gerald wandered closer, holding back a sigh. “And how many bottles have you had tonight?”
“Far too few,” said Jack, and pushed himself upright. He shuffled across the floor to lean against Harriet’s desk, managing to dislodge a slew of paperwork as he did so. Gerald watched as requisition forms and archive notes drifted slowly to the floor. Jack raised the bottle to his mouth and took a swig.
“You’re drunk, Jack,” Gerald said, and did sigh now. That meant Jack had already drunk at least two bottles of hard liquor – it took a lot to get the immortal intoxicated, although Jack was as elusive about the reasons for that as he was about almost everything else.
“Yup,” Jack said, and tilted his head back to look upwards again. “I really am.” Gerald took another deep breath, something he did far too often around the capricious Captain, and after a moment’s pause he joined Jack on the floor. Jack glanced at him, a flash of blue eyes, and grinned lopsidedly. “Good! I hate drinking alone. There’s something…maudlin about it.”
“Quite possibly,” agreed Gerald, reaching for the bottle. Jack relinquished it easily enough, and Gerald took a cautious sip. It was good whisky; not that he had expected anything less. Jack had refined tastes in alcohol, among other things – particularly since he had returned. Gerald could only imagine what it had been like for the soldiers on the front. He had seen the state of those sent home injured, and the condition of the men who had returned after the Armistice.
He passed Jack the bottle before it was demanded. He knew Jack in these moods; denying the other man something simple like a bottle of whiskey would be cruel.
Shell Shock by
sparking_off