Two Jacks


He was alone on Satellite Five, abandoned by his only two friends, and really, if there was ever time to brood, now was it. But Jack was constitutionally incapable of brooding for long -- it just wasn't in him. He wasn't sure why he was alive (he distinctly remembered a light at the end of the long dark tunnel, and some very sexy-sounding voices calling his name), but he might as well make the best of it.

Exploration confirmed his first suspicions, that there was nobody alive on the satellite. Oddly, there was also no sign of any Daleks. He couldn't even find the remains of the few he knew had been destroyed, which surprised him. Daleks didn't seem the type to clean up the bodies of their compatriots. He'd hoped to cannibalize the Dalek shells to build himself a ship, but no matter. He was Captain Jack Harkness, he thought to himself as he cocked a hip and grinned a rakish grin at the watching universe, and he wouldn't be defeated by something as simple as being abandoned in a dead satellite spinning in hard vacuum. If the Doctor and Rose came back for him, great, but if not, he'd have himself some fun.

He hadn't been a Time Patrol Officer for nothing, Jack thought smugly, when two earth years, three months, and 14 days later he'd finished a time ship built out of spare parts mostly salvaged from the sewage wings. The controls were rudimentary -- if only there'd been Dalek bits left over he'd have has something more sophisticated -- but they'd get him the hell of here. He was so sick of food from the Iron Chef Earth set that if he never saw another pork belly or sea urchin again it would be too soon. And there was nobody here to flirt with except the cold and still androids. Even for someone as relentlessly upbeat as Jack it was getting wearying.

He set the controls of the good ship Rosie for Earth, First or Second Millenium CE, which was about as fine-grained as he was going to get with a steering column built of high-tech U-tubes, blew a kiss to his invisible audience, and hopped in. "Off for adventure," he said as his ship dissolved from time. "And maybe some creature comforts in my loneliness." And he thought longingly of good food and hard alcohol in pleasant company, shared as a prelude to a good time had by all.


The Black Pearl floated restlessly at anchor off the coast of an unnamed island near Trinidad. The crew slept off the results of the night of rum, debauchery, and more rum, collapsed in smelly piles around the deck. The skeleton crew manning the ship, while no longer skeletal per se, looked more zombie-like in their hangovers than they ever had as actual undead. Only the Pearl's captain was really awake, singing quietly to himself in the forecastle and absentmindedly swigging from a bottle. So Captain Jack Sparrow was the only one on board paying any attention when a gurgling, almost liquid noise heralded something appearing on the deck. An odd contraption that appeared to be made of metal and white china was suddenly on the deck where there had previously been only a coil of rope and a few empty bottles.

Jack cocked his head. "Now that's something I've never stolen," he said to the porcelain contraption. "An unidentifiable piece of statuary that offers itself to me like a blushing virgin on her wedding night." He regarded the object thoughtfully. "Are you a virgin, sweet?"

At which point a fold near the top of the object turned just so, and a pipe-like bit on the side twisted like that, and with a mirage-like shudder, a metallic section in the front vanished. Standing in the opening was... well, Sparrow wasn't poetic, except in his less lucid moments, and then it was mostly dirty limericks. But the figure standing in the opening prompted Jack to reconsider the poetry in the saying "I wouldn't kick that out of bed for eating hardtack."

"I'm not a virgin," said Captain Jack Harkness, standing in the doorway of his makeshift timeship. "But I am blushing." And he winked, slow and sultry.

And Captain Jack Sparrow realised his day was about to get extremely good.