Author's Note: I'm officially not allowed to touch my computer after midnight. See the shenanigans my brain gets up to when that happens?
But obviously, since there are at least 10 fics out there with the same idea in mind, I'm not alone in my madness. But you've got to admit, it would be funny.
Yes, this is before the writers decided to tear my heartstrings out by killing everything I love (also known as pre-zombie!Owen).
Even half delirious from smacking her head against the control council, she would recognize that sound anywhere. She didn't know if the lights dancing before her eyes were caused by a concussion or the flare of gun powder, but Jenny was fairly certain that neither was very good news for her. She tried to move, cried out in pain and surprise, and then tried again. Slowly unbuckled the safety belts, disentangled herself from crumpled metal. Searing pain shot up her leg and made her breath catch. She would have to look at that later. Move, move, move.
Scavengers, that's what they were, she imagined. Locals who had stumbled upon the chance of a lifetime: a shuttle fallen from the atmosphere. They were here for souvenirs, although there was nothing particularly valuable in Jenny's opinion. Food and water rations that were probably destroyed. There were small fires everywhere. She wondered how she was still alive. Maybe she was a ghost.
She snorted. She didn't believe she could die. There was no one who could tell her—except one man, and in the whole, wide universe, she hadn't a clue where to start looking for him.
There was a fight. Shouting. The thwack-thwack-thwack of aircraft. A rush of wind that made Jenny lose her weak grip on the outer lip of the escape hatch and fall back into the craft. It was on its side, she had realized. Dazed, she did not try to move again. The gunfire ceased. The shouting got louder, closer. Metal shifted. She could smell burning. Was it her?
Damn, her leg hurt.
"Is anyone there," a voice yelled. "Owen, with me! There's someone still inside!"
"How did they survive that," she heard a voice saying, coming closer. Hovering over her, looking through the escape hatch. "A girl," the second voice asked wonderingly.
"Questions later, Owen," the first voice snapped. There was the sound of metal scraping, shifting, her head ringing, and a thud beside her that made her cringe in pain. "It's okay, we've got you. You're okay."
"She seems stable," the second voice—Owen—said to the first. A hand touched her neck, and she grimaced. "Knocked around pretty bad, but considering…well…"
"It's better than the alternative. I get it," the first voice said curtly. "Safe to move her?"
"She won't enjoy it, but it shouldn't do any damage to any vital areas."
"There's nothing to take," she murmured.
"Shhh." A hand brushed her hair away from her face before slipping under her head. "You're alright. We're getting you out of here."
There was nothing else to say. There wasn't breath enough to speak. She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from crying out again when they picked her up…and she fell into blackness before she could learn how they planned on getting the three of them back up and out of the escape hatch again.
When she opened her eyes again, she was in a pristine-gray room. She shivered. The only thing covering her was a sheet.
"Sorry about that." It was the first voice. She struggled to sit up, but a hand held her down by her shoulder. "You're pretty knocked up. Owen had to do quite a bit of work to patch you up."
"What did they want," Jenny asked. It didn't occur to her to say thank you.
"What," Jack asked, taken aback. "Oh." He waved his hand carelessly. "Alien scavengers. Mostly others who have crashed or who got stranded here. You get them wherever there's a crash, trying to salvage the ship or take scrap metals… Whatever they could get their hands on, really. We've rounded them up though."
"And done what with them?"
"Interrogated them, tried to figure out if they were dangerous and where they were from." Jack was sitting on a chair beside the operation table; they hadn't moved Jenny from it. She wondered if there wasn't anywhere to move her to. He leaned his elbows on the edge of the table and looked at her carefully. "You haven't asked where you are." It wasn't a question, but an observation.
"It didn't seem very important," Jenny said. "It's not as though I can leave, or would know where to go if I could."
"True." He smiled. "You're not exactly local, are you?"
"I'm not anything," Jenny said. She had not returned to her home planet, where the Machine had spit her out, since her 'death'. "I was just making a pit stop for supplies, but I'm not very good at landing yet."
"Well, Ianto thinks we should be able to fix up your ship. It will take a while though. You can stay here in the meantime. Like you said, where else would you go?"
Jenny didn't answer that question. Regardless of its truth—and regardless of the fact that she'd said it first—the lack of choice irritated her.
"There's something else I was wondering though," Jack continued as though there had been no pause. He leaned closer to her so that he could speak in a whisper. Jenny frowned at him. "Something I was hoping you could explain for me."
"Owen, our medic. The guy who patched you up. He's a little confused about something. Me? I'm mystified. It's very curious."
"And what is it," Jenny asked. She tried to sit up again. Her head pounded as though it was trying to escape the stiff bandages there. This time, Jack didn't stop her. He tightened his lips disapprovingly, but he gave her a hand. He kept it on her back, as though he was holding her up.
"Two hearts," Jack said simply. When she frowned at him, he went on, "There are a few humanoid species with more than one heart, but—"
"But," Jenny asked, cutting over him? Her eyes were hard. Afraid, Jack thought. She looked a child who had been found out.
"Well, Owen didn't really know what he was looking at. But you remind me of someone I know. I'm wondering how you survived the Time War."
Jenny frowned quizzically. The fear was gone, replaced with confusion. Jack was confused too. "Time War?"
"The war with the Time Lords. You have to know about it," Jack asked impatiently.
"The Time Lords?" Jenny's eyes brightened at that. "Oh, I remember."
"That's the war my father fought in. He's a soldier, though he gets mad if you tell him so." She was babbling now in her excitement, eager to know if she had found him at last.
"Your father," Jack echoed. She didn't register his expression. If she had, perhaps she would have given herself pause. But she hadn't, and she didn't.
"Yeah," Jenny said eagerly. "My father. He calls himself the Doctor."