Fandom: Torchwood

Characters: Jack, OC

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 3,448 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 223 - Butt

Summary: Jack's on a stake out in the world's biggest city.



Smoking was bad for you, Jack knew that. But it was the sixties and people didn’t care about rumours that cigarettes contributed to poor health. Everyone smoked. It was trendy. Ladies let them hang from long holders like fashion statements, and it was impossible to go into any public place and not have to wade through a pall of grey smoke. It hurt the eyes and clung to clothes, but still everyone did it.

You couldn’t go anywhere in this town without seeing tobacco advertising emblazoned on billboards and in trendy magazines. All the marketing was of young well-to-do couples in flashy sports cars or on the beach, enjoying a cigarette like it was the solution to all of life’s problems.

Fifty years from now people would push to curtail the proliferation of cigarettes, forcing tobacco companies to package up their product in bland boxes, no fashionable brand logos to be seen. The only graphics on the packets would be those of clotted arteries, rotting teeth, and tar-filled lungs. If the images were meant to horrify and deter, they weren’t working.

It would be another twenty years before the first law suit was successful against a tobacco company, proving that it had been the cigarettes that had caused the fatal lung cancer. For all their corporate power, they’d finally run out of money to quash every study undertaken that proved what everyone had claimed to know for years.

As he sat opposite the woman in the smoky cafe, admiring her petite frame and the neat blonde hair tucked up underneath that jade green pillbox hat, he wondered if forty years from now she’d come to regret her choices. Then again, maybe she’d be one of the lucky ones, or she’d come to her senses and quit. For now though, he let her have this one vice. Plus, it gave her something to do whilst they watched and waited.

He sucked on his own, one long last drag, enjoying the buzzing feeling the nicotine gave him. Was it any wonder none of them wanted to give it up, when the feeling was so good? Sure, it didn’t last, and an hour or two from now, he’d need to feel that buzz again, but unlike the rest of them, he could chain smoke his was into eternity with no ill effects. He’d as likely die from something else long before he had to worry about things like cancer.

He stabbed the butt into the ashtray, letting it join a dozen more. The woman glanced across at him, blue eyes sparkling, before returning her gaze to the table across the way. Without diverting her gaze, she dipped a slender hand back into her purse and pulled out another cigarette. 'Light me, darling?' she asked, holding it out to the side, since his own lighter was still lying there on the table between them. Sixties gals were the best, he thought. They expected equality and chivalry in equal portions.

'You know these are bad for you,' he replied, but holding the lighter towards her as she delicately held it in her mouth, sucking in, leaving a pink stain around the edges with her lipstick.

'You’re bad for me,' she replied, making him chuckle. 'Should I give you up as well?'

Touché, he thought, pulling out another of his own and lighting it. He probably should have ordered another coffee instead, but smoking didn’t make you need to take constant bathroom breaks. Keeping an eye on their target was more important.

'You sure your boss doesn't mind you hanging out here with me?' he asked instead.

'The chief can go fuck himself,' she said, ejecting a sharp plume of smoke, all her prim and proper facade destroyed with that one statement. 'One of those typing pool floozies can fix him his damn coffee. Didn't scrape my way through years at the academy to have put up with this shit. I bust the Marinelli drug ring and all those other detectives will be kissing my arse instead of the other way around.'

He chuckled at that. A woman police detective. That'd be worth seeing. It had taken him weeks to break down the various police departments - door knocking their district stations and flashing his international credentials. He was trying to work his way into their narcotics investigations, but no one wanted to give up anything to a British intelligence officer, even if he sounded American. Only one frustrated female officer had taken his request seriously, accosting him in the hallway, hoping the leg up being offered was mutual. And thus had begun their partnership.

'You’re American, right?' Juliet asked him. 'West Coast?' It sounded funny in her New York accent.

'Roundabouts there,' he lied. 'Been living in the UK for a while now, though.'

'The Torchwood Institute,' she said, rolling the words around on her tongue between puffs. She crossed one leg over the over, a feat he thought impossible given how tight that green pencil skirt was. 'Sounds so very British and proper. How’d you wind up in a gig like that, anyway? Doesn't strike me as your cup of Joe.'

He leaned back in the chair and took in another long drag, letting a cloud of grey bloom before replying. 'It found me.'

She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and held it aside, never even looking at him. 'You don’t sound like you’re enjoying it. Perhaps once this is all done, you could stay here for a while. Be my off the books gumshoe or somethin.'

He smiled. Wouldn’t she like that? Juliet had the right amount of feistiness to make it, working for Torchwood. For now she was more his unofficial liaison, helping him find one alien in a city of millions. He wouldn’t mind it so much himself. They made a good pairing, and the sex was pretty good, too. What would he tell Charles, though? More aliens in New York than we thought? Maybe they could set up an office here. It was a nice thought until he remembered he was still waiting for his Doctor to show up. The century had to turn again before that happened, but it never hurt to be around just in case. The Doctor was so rubbish at being anywhere on time. A few months of passionate lovemaking wasn't worth the risk.

'What do these drugs do that makes em so bad, anyway?' she asked, setting the remnants of her smoke in the tray. 'People ain't gonna buy em if they're hokum.'

'Oh, they're good all right,' Jack said. 'Send you high as a kite and free as a bird for hours. Only they're not designed for humans. They have nasty side effects.' Not the least of which was melting brain tissue, but only after you'd had a complete mental snap, imagined the world was out to get you, and retaliated by killing everyone in sight. Even if you survived it, the residue that would end up in the public water system would be enough to build up over time, sending entire cities into psychotic breakdown. The worst part was that their dealers knew and didn't care.

'He doesn’t even look... you know.' Whether she left the word alien out on purpose in case anyone was listening, or because she still found the concept of aliens hard to believe, he couldn't be sure.

'Shape shifter,' Jack said. 'They make good drug runners on account of being able to fit in anywhere. Also makes them notoriously hard to catch unless you can smoke em out.'

'Why here?' she asked. 'Why not deal round this rift thing of yours?'

'Not enough people. Too easy to get noticed.' Guys like this one weren't stupid. They knew when the pond was too small, increasing their chances of being caught. They were also incredibly greedy. It wouldn't take long for news to spread around the black market that someone was peddling narcotics that made cocaine feel like snorting lemon sherbet. They'd been rolling in orders in no time.

Jack knew how these guys liked to operate. They never touched the drugs themselves per se, which is what made them so slippery. They found locals who would do all the dirty work. One guy to pick up deliveries, one guy to store them somewhere safe, one guy to transport it to a location where the deal would take place. Another would be agent for the buyers, telling them where and when to go. The shape shifter would then wait to collect the money, request the goods from whoever had been paid off to hold them at the location - bartender, waitress, museum curator - and let them pass over, usually with a glass of scotch, a basket of garlic bread, or a book wrapped in brown paper. No one in the chain knew more than two other people, making it nigh on impossible to connect the dots. In a local scene like this it was tricky enough. Back in his Agency days, when the ring of connections had been spread across half a star system, it had been a nightmare. He had no intention of letting this one slip through his fingers. If that meant he helped Juliet break down one of the dirtiest local drug dealers in the city at the same time, then that was just a bonus.

Jack picked up his glass of water and sipped it slowly. He could taste the tang of fluoride in it. New York City had been an early adopter but they still hadn't gotten the concentration quite right, putting the general public off drinking it on account of the taste. Looking around, he couldn't spot anyone else partaking. At least for now it only tasted bad. That was nothing compared to if these drugs ever hit the drinking water.

'Jack,' came Juliet's low voice. His eyes flicked across to the doorway, following her line of sight as a peak-capped man hesitantly entered the busy cafe. He shifted across to the counter, picking up a laminated menu, pretending to study it, though holding it upside down. It was comical enough to make Jack want to laugh.

'That's one of Marinelli's henchmen?' he asked.

'Marinelli is smart,' she replied. 'But his errand boys ain't so sharp. He's here to suss out a potential supplier. All he needs is a few samples. They ain't negotiating til he knows the goods are sound.'

'It won't come to that,' Jack promised her. 'I need to take this guy in today.' If she was slightly miffed that he wouldn't let her wait until she had Marinelli himself seated at the table, she didn't show it.

Jack reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long flat object, giving it a few taps on one side and then propping it up against the salt and pepper shakers.

'What's that?' Juliet asked him.

'Fancy cigarette case,' he replied.' Takes photos, too.' Calling it a cell phone wouldn't have meant anything. It was something he'd owned since he'd last been in the twenty-first century. He wasn't supposed to mess with timelines, but on this occasion he wanted video evidence. The Shadow Proclamation would want more than the word of one fallen from grace ex-Time Agent. Video proof would keep this guy locked away for a long time. Distribution of banned substances on a level five planet was a big no no.

'He's sussing out the joint,' Juliet said, watching Marinelli's man scan the room with his eyes. Jack reached across the table and took Juliet's hand. If anyone looked their way, they'd be just another pair of lovers out for lunch.

Once the man was satisfied, he slunk away from the counter stool until he was sidled up against the small formica table of their target, sliding down into the seat opposite. A small wad of paper, the size of a small notebook was slid across the table.

Jack's target snapped a finger in the air, summoning a short dark haired waitress over. She slipped her hands into the front pocket of her apron, ostensibly to remove her notepad, but also the thin packet of bright mauve powder, which she slipped onto the table while she leant over to straighten the condiments sitting at the table's centre.

'Got him. Here we go,' said Jack, sitting up a bit straighter. 'Marinelli's flunkie will leave first,' he said.

'I know,' she replied, idly snapping her purse shut. He hadn't noticed her slipping a pair of cuffs from it, deftly slipping them into her pocket, catching their silvery glint as they disappeared into the slim tailoring. She leaned across the table and pecked him on the cheek, making to leave just as the man was setting his cap back on. Jack watched as halfway to the door, she stopped, forcing the man behind her to accidentally bump into her. She spun and gave him a broad smile, apologising for stopping.

'Heya, sugar. Got a smoke? I'm dying here.'

Jack grinned as he watched the man's expression, knowing he was punching well above his weight if he thought he could land more than a casual smoke with Juliet. All the same, he willingly followed her outside the cafe.

Jack turned his attention back to the shape shifter. He watched as the man nervously fiddled with a matchbook. He had his cash tucked away in a jacket pocket, patting it reassuringly. If the first deal panned out, there'd be a lot more where that came from. Jack expected he'd wait there until Marinelli's flunkie returned, but something had him spooked. He eyed off a man on the opposite side of the cafe, buried in a copy of the Times. He could have been an undercover cop, or he might just have been an average Joe. Either way, it didn't look like he was going to take any chances. He pushed up from the table and made to leave. Jack grabbed his phone from the table and quickly pocketed it, standing up.

'Not so fast, buddy,' Jack said, coming up to block his path. 'Why don't we step outside and have a little chat.'

Before Jack knew what had happened, there was a sharp blow to the underside of his jaw and a second that hit everything below the solar plexus, winding him and doubling him over in pain. The shape shifter had taken a risk and grown a few extra appendages to land the heavy blows. Around him he heard the rise of cries from other patrons at the sudden outbreak of a brawl. Jack gave a half-hearted grab for his leg from his crouched position on the floor, but it wasn't enough to keep hold of the shape shifter who was making a break for the door.

Juliet rushed back in at the first sound of ruckus, only to find the shape shifter coming right at her.

Jack caught the flash of green in his peripheral vision and yelled. 'Stop him!'

Juliet saw the tall man rushing towards her and the door. Brute force wasn't going to stop him from piling straight through her. She looked around for anything she could use as a weapon but the table beside her was bereft of anything but dirty plates and empty mugs. Instinctively she did the only thing she could. She grabbed the ashtray and flung it at its face. The butts tumbled to the floor but the ash did its job, blinding him and stopping him in his tracks. Jack rushed over to restrain him, snapping the cuffs tight, whilst he was still struggling to use his arms to clear his eyes. The cuffs did their job though, emitting a field that deadened the shape shifter's ability to transform.

A few patrons muttered in alarm at the sudden commotion, but Juliet deftly reassured them. 'No need to panic folks. FBI.' People took one look at her neatly cut pencil skirt suit and then at Jack’s chiselled features and they accepted the lie without question.

'You overstayed your welcome here, buddy,' Jack said, hefting the alien upright, wedging his arms tightly behind his back. 'We don't mind you coming here for a little tourist action, but we draw a line at trafficking substances banned by the Shadow Proclamation.'

'Prove it. I ain't done nothing.'

Jack sighed. 'What is it with criminal lowlifes and double negatives?' he asked. 'You do know that means you did something, don't you? Your buyer? We've been following him and his little gang for weeks.' Jack shoved him clumsily out into the street and around the corner to a side alley where he'd left his car. All the while the shape shifter struggled against his bonds.

'You think you’re gonna stop me? Pathetic little Earthlings. This world doesn’t even acknowledge Unified Conglomerate law. You're wasting your time.'

'I’m a former Time Agent,' Jack replied. 'I eat guys like you for breakfast. Consider me this planet’s Proclamation representative. We know exactly where to ship guys like you.' He slammed the man up against the wall and recited him what little rights he had. He was long out of practice, but the words tumbled from his mouth like yesterday. It was only once he'd given up struggling that Jack turned to look at Juliet standing there right next to him.

'Thanks for the assist. Where's your guy?' he asked. 'Did he get away?'

'Oh, heck no. I left him cuffed to a street sign on the sidewalk. He ain't going nowhere. Except downtown, that is. Promises he'll squeal like a pig, already.' She tugged a small packet of violet powder from her pocket. 'You'll be wanting this I'm guessing?'

'Oh yeah. That'll go nicely with a little recording I made of their exchange. How'd you like to be breaking rock on Seca Five for the next thirty years?' he asked the shape shifter. 'I'm betting there's a stack more of this stuff hidden on your ship.' He pulled the shape shifter away from the wall and over to the car.

'Get in,' Jack ordered, flipping open the boot of the steel blue Mustang.

'In there? You must be joking,' he said, spying the narrow space.

'Be grateful she’s a muscle car,' Jack said. 'They won’t invent the sports utility for another two decades. This is as cosy a ride as you'll get. In. Now.' A bit of persuasive shoving from Jack and he was soon locked away in the boot. Jack took pleasure in dropping the hood and leaning back on it. Juliet pulled out another cigarette and lit it.

'Not a bad day's work, huh?' Jack asked.

There was a glint in her eye as she exhaled. 'You nearly let him get away, Jack.'

'I had it covered,' he said, though knowing it was a lie.

'You’ve been in Britain too long, hun,' she said, bright pink lipstick clashing against her green blazer. 'You’re starting to think we have to fight fair.'

He laughed. 'You’re right. You’re just what I needed. A girl from Queens who likes to fight dirty.'

She smiled around her cigarette, before blowing the smoke out and off to the side. 'That ain't all I like to do dirty.'

'Don’t I know it?' he replied, shamelessly admiring her legs. 'You need a hand taking your guy down to the station? I've got a nice set of wheels here,' he said, patting the side of the Mustang lovingly.

'Nah. I know the two guys down on Sixth running patrol. They'll be happy to lend me a ride.'

Jack pulled a disappointed face. 'It's always about the uniforms, isn't it?'

'You do okay,' Juliet replied. 'A little out of date, but okay.'

'This never goes outta style,' he argued, preening his great coat with reverence.

Juliet dropped her cigarette on the ground and put it out with a quick twist of her navy blue stiletto. 'So, is this goodbye? You jet back off to England now and forget all about me?'

'It's Wales. Don’t ever get the two mixed up,' he warned. 'If you think New Yorkers are rough, you’ve never been to Welsh pub on a Friday night.' He tipped her a mock salute as he opened the door and climbed inside.

'You didn’t answer my other question!' she called out, leaning against the door frame. 'Are you gonna forget me?'

'Never, babe. Just do me a favour.'

'What's that?'

'Quit smoking those things. Do that and maybe you’ll live long enough to see me again. See ya round, Detective.' He turned the key and let the engine roar and echo around the narrow alleyway.

She laughed in spite of herself. 'You’re such a goddamn killjoy, you know that?'