Hi. Well, this is my first Torchwood fic, and it's an experiment. It's basically a Jack whumping fic, possibly with a slight plot thrown in later. No real ship intended, just whumping, though if there is any, it'll probably be slash, 'cos it's Torchwood, and Jack…. I've got more written, but it's even worse than this, so needs more editing before posting.
I'm not really sure when it's set yet. No real spoilers as yet. Apart from the first episode, perhaps.
Let me know what you think.
He groaned softly as consciousness crept up on him once more. Someone was shaking his shoulder, lightly slapping at his cheeks. Opening his eyes, he immediately regretted it, slamming them shut again and biting back a gasp as the light sent a sharp shot of agony into his brain. Somebody must have noticed the movement, though, because the slapping and shaking stopped and a voice shouted "Hey! I think he's wakin' up!". Not recognising the voice, he carefully tried his eyes again, opening them into narrow slits this time. One of them didn't seem able to go any further than that, he noticed absently. Black eye, then. Not his first. Probably not his last, either.
He focused on the face in front of him. A youngish man, early twenties, brown hair carefully gelled and spiked, blue eyes wide and staring straight at him, water dripping down his cheeks . It was raining, he realised. Squinting up past his awakener, he could see two or three other shapes hovering around, shifting uneasily, muttering. He could feel their eyes on him. He took stock of his surroundings. He was lying down, on the floor, by the feel of it, in some sort of back alley. The rain was pouring relentlessly into his face, making him blink painfully. Registering no immediate threats, he let his mind wander back to the events that brought him here.
He'd been weevil hunting, he remembered. Solo, as he often did. The dreams were bad again lately, only letting him steal an hour or two of sleep ever other night or so. He thanked the technology of the 51st century that allowed him to survive on much less sleep than the humans of the current time. Still, he did need more than he was getting. In hopes of tiring himself out, he'd put the hub on remote alert, gathered his anti-weevil spray, and left.
He remembered deciding to search the maze of back alleys on the outskirts of the city that had seen a spate of weevil related deaths in the last few weeks. Owen had theorised that, as it was coming into winter, the weevils were 'stocking up' as it were. It was true that the deaths had increased at this time last year, but back then there had not really been enough weevils through the rift to make it stand out.
The streets had been quiet at first. It was a Thursday night, and the various pubs and clubs were either closed or relatively empty, meaning a lack of people taking shortcuts through poorly lit back alleys. After a couple of hours, though, he'd picked up a trail, tracking a weevil into a dead end. Not really in the mood to play, he'd moved in to take it down, only to freeze as he heard a familiar noise behind him. He'd only just managed to get out of the way in time, as a second weevil charged him from behind. This unfortunately left him with his back against a wall, facing two rather agitated aliens. Foolishly, he'd thought it couldn't get any worse, only to one again be introduced to Murphy's law as two more rounded the corner. He didn't have time to ponder over the unusual sight of weevils in pairs, as at this moment the two directly in front of him charged him again.
The time after that was all a bit of a blur. He recalled pulling out his gun at some point, letting off several bullets into his attackers, aiming for their relatively unprotected eyes and nose. He'd been lucky, killing one straight off as the bullet passed directly through it's eye, and the others had been slightly more wary after that. Not for long though. He remembered running, desperately, falling, being leapt upon, torn at. He'd managed to use the spray on one, knocking it out, and wounded the other with another well-aimed bullet, causing it to limp away, letting out a mixture of growls and whimpers. The one left had dealt him several more nasty blows before he managed to get off another shot, hitting it in the leg. It barely slowed it down, but made it pause long enough for them to hear the babble of voices in a nearby alley, coming closer, shouting and laughing. There was the distinctive clink of glass, and several lewd whistles cut the air. The weevil hesitated, obviously trying to decide whether to continue with it's prey and risk being outnumbered, or take off back to wherever it normally holed up during the daytime. He let out several shots into the wall above it's head, which seemed to help it make up it's mind; it growled, baring it's triple rows of sharp teeth, and then turned and loped away in the opposite direction.
Head spinning, and starting to black out from blood loss and pain, he used the last of his adrenaline to drag the gassed weevil behind some battered looking bins, stuffed his gun back in it's holder, out of sight, and then staggered down the next alley, with some idea of trying to make it back to the SUV before he passed out. It was a forlorn hope, and he knew it. The world did a back flip and sunk into darkness before he had gone more than a few steps
So, thanks for reading. More might be on its way soon, it depends if anybody likes this or not. I'll keep writing it, but I don't want to clutter up the site with a fic that nobody but me wants to read!
Any comments would be much appreciated.