tampered | Log: Ongoing

Log: Ongoing

When; Monday Afternoon
Rating; G
Characters; ~~Sherlock Holmes~~ Lars Sigerson

bakerstregular and Captain Jack Harkness

handsomejack
Summary; Two men using false names meet over a Spitfire
Log;

Sometime the night before Jack had gotten on the Net long enough to get a message with directions to Lars Sigerson so that the man could find the warehouse on Monday. Not that the warehouse was hard to find but it might have saved Lars some walking.

Jack himself had gotten to the warehouse fairly early that morning armed with the schematics he'd been working on over the weekend. It was the last of the wiring work, the majority of it finished thanks to the help from Anakin but these were the final bits and pieces that would ultimately control the wing and tail flaps back up to the cockpit.

Afraid of playing his beloved Glenn Miller record down to the numb, Jack had brought his CD player today and had it off in a corner of the warehouse, piping out Vivaldi at a reasonable level. The warehouse was heated enough against the chill for Jack to be able to do the delicate work without having to wear gloves and his long coat and waist coat hung over the back of a chair, leaving him in his dress shirt, the antique pocket watch tucked into his side pocket.

He'd left the door unlocked so that Lars could just come in when he arrived as currently Jack was perched up on the skeleton of the left wing with a sodering iron, a schematic plan and a few miles of wiring. It would be hard to answer the door!

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The warehouse was not difficult to find, thanking you for your directions. He had made it his business to learn every corner of London, and so, as long as he was obliged to stay in the City, he would likewise learn every corner of the City. Well enough that he'd walk down this way again and in a better mind to observe it.

Chill day: expected of November. How very fortuitous that the City had seen fit to leave him with his topcoat and muffler at least. He walked slowly, taking in the passersby, the buildings, the street, the type and style of the City. Years of cultivation now confronted by the abrupt arrival here--it annoyed him.

Very well. On to see the heaver-than-air contraption. Doubtless such a thing could be made. The experiments with gliders had worked, or so the newspapers had been saying, and a plan or two was stolen, copied, restolen--unsurprisingly. So, ever and ever, with greater refinement, more and similar and better machines might be made. And that was a notion with which he could identify.

Now at the warehouse, a pause to look at the facade, the windows, the roof, &c. General notice. An open door: helpful, though quite obvious. Not a secret project at all.

Recall, he told himself as he pushed the door further open and stepped in, You are yet Sigerson.

His host was sitting atop the machinery, already at work. He would have preferred to observe the machinery more closely a moment more, and its maker too. Still, a glance or two told the shape of the machine, the work itself was not yet clear. Regardless, he spoke, flatly, and still obliged to affect the Norwegian, "Good afternoon."

While being in the City, a sort of mini-vacation he couldn't deny it, had relaxed Jack's guards somewhat, training kept him instinctively aware of the comings and goings of doors. His relaxed state of mind just meant he didn't immediately respond to the coming and going of the door.

Still, he'd grinned to himself when he heard Lars arrive, taking a moment to finish the delicate bit of soddering and then turning towards the accented greeting. What he found, surprised him a little. A tall man, one would describe him as long limbed and perhaps craggy in facial features but it was by no means an unhandsome face, just a reserved one.

Very Victorian Jack thought to himself and he couldn't help remembering how woefully out of place he himself had been in that time, with his gregarious, frivolent attitudes.

"Good afternoon!" He crowed, having spent much of that time doing his damndest to break through such icy reserve by the sheer force of his own impish will.

Setting down the soddering gun, Jack neatly scrambled down off the wing of the plane, landing lightly for such a big man and then wiping his hand off on a rag before presenting it to Lars.

"I'm going to assume that you are, Mr. Sigerson then, Sir. Captain Jack Harkness, at your disposal."

Gregarious, outgoing, unexpectedly nimble. Builder of flying machines. Adventurer, yes. But that military title as compounded and contradicted by that personality--strange as yet. Some detail or other missing as yet. Unless--he then realised he would have to begin asking 'when' as well as 'where', and even 'where' must be expanded. Details still missing, regardless.

He paused a moment, then took the offered hand. "I am. A pleasure, Captain Harkness."

He cast another glance around the warehouse.

"Vivaldi," he remarked, casually, "You have very good taste. And I would assume that this is your flying machine."

Now normally Jack would have attributed the 'reserve' in Mr. Sigerson to the time he came from but there felt like more to it than that. Most people would have been either gawking at the Spitfire -if they had never seen a heavier than air craft- or gawking at Jack who was, let's face it, gawk worthy. But Sigerson seemed a strange sort of comfortable in his own skin and more curious about his surroundings in the manner of a man working a puzzle together and focused on how the details fit together, whether than the details themselves.

It was something of a Time Agent trait and Jack felt a brief twinge of wariness before he told himself that he was being silly.

Smiling brightly, to deflect from his own uncertainty about Sigerson, Jack turned towards the Spitfire and waved an arm, like the emcee of a circus.

"This is it indeed, a fighter craft from the second world war, known as the Spitfire. They would be insturmental in helping Britain maintain her freedom from German occupation."

There was definite pride in his tone, not just for his own little project but for the many Spitfires who had gone up in the war to defend their country.

Turning back, he put his hands in his pockets and grinned brightly.

"You're a fan of Vivaldi yourself, Sir? Most people like Mozart or Bach, not that they aren't nice, please don't get me wrong but I do have a soft spot for Vivaldi."

"Lars" kept his eyes on the plane, considering it. The methods of flight were not of great importance to him: he would not clutter the attic of his brain with the details. The existence of it was interesting, however.

More interesting were two phrases just dropped: "second world war" and "German occupation." The implications therein were immense. He reminded himself that there were many worlds connected to this one, or so he had be told, therefore the history of one was not the history of all, even if there were two places with familiar names just named: Britain, Germany. It might, if nothing else, answer the question of "when", the same question he'd be asked over and over since his arrival in the City.

"I am quite fond of Vivaldi, but let us return to what you previously said: 'helping Britain maintain her freedom from German occupation.' This flying machine was used in battle, and against another European power, and in a war called the second of its kind. Do, please, elaborate."

Learn the history a man has witnessed, and learn some of his history in the meantime.

Normally Jack was much more cautious of the crossing of time lines. Heck, his job for much of his young life had been the preservation of time lines but as most did not retain their City memories when they returned to their worlds, he'd relaxed this rule.

A little bit at least.

"It's dangerous, to know too much about a time not your own," Jack cautioned. "Let's us say there will be conflicts in which battle lines are clearly drawn between major powers of the day and age and these conflicts will be indeliably written into the history books of man kind."

A dodge?

"I see."

He strolled over to the plane and began to examine it more closely. All made by this one person? Remarkable. It proved a distinct measure of skill at research--or at memory, which would be more remarkable to know the inner workings as well as the method of use--together with striking mechanical skill.

"And you constructed this entire vehicle yourself?"

A dodge, followed by a slight slip of natural caution due to pride. Jack was very proud of the Spitfire and of being able to remember it's details and where he should probably be covering such facts, he can't help smiling brightly.

"Yes," he nodded, reaching up to brush a gentle hand along the still skeletal frame. "I flew them, back then and they're a beautiful example of man's ability to create something beyond his own vision."

Jack really did have a great deal of respect for the Spitfire. True, compared to the TARDIS or the Chula warship he'd flown, not to mention his own Vortex Manipulator, the Spitfire was little more than a toy out of a box but for it's time, it was amazing and Jack appreciated that feat of enginering.

"I got into this as a bit of a project, to keep me occupied while I'm here in the City. It's good to have things to do, believe me. Have you been looking for employment yet or has the ticking not gotten to an unbearable level of annoyance yet?"

"And an impressive project it is, Captain Harkness."

He turned and acquiesced to a smile.

"I've been told it benefits one to have an occupation of one sort or another. As yet I've been quite occupied and have heard little of the famed ticking. Still, since I've now settled myself into a flat, I suspect that I may begin hearing more of it. Employment will have to follow shortly, of course."

Now that was interesting. Most people, when they first came to the City, couldn't ignore the ticking. In fact it was one of the initial things they would remark upon and yet this man didn't seem disturbed by it.

Giving the metal frame one last, affectionate pat, Jack slid his hands back into his pockets.

"Thank you," he said in response to the compliment about the plane. "Are there any areas of work that you find yourself most attracted, Mr. Sigerson? There is a surprisingly wide varity of places to find employment and job skills needed for what you would imagine to be a more insular place."

"Since it is a City unto itself, with no ruler, leader, or country around it, I can imagine that there are more than a few places seeking help. I have some skill as a chemist and worked some time in a hospital's chemical laboratory. I know there is a hospital here, and perhaps they will be in need of some help."

Another glance, a nod, at the plane.

"Of course, having projects on the side is probably also advisable. What did you find to do with yourself to fund such a project, Captain?"

"Oh, this and that," Jack said with deliberate breeziness. Moving the conversation along here!

"A good friend of mine also runs a clinic, let me know if you'd like to go that route and I'll give her your name. Oh! Has anyone told you about the Library yet? It's fantastic, Mr. Sigerson, I have a feeling you'd find it very enjoyable indeed."

More dodging. How interesting.

"Indeed? If they are in need of an experienced chemist, perhaps I shall go that route. I will be in touch with you about that."

He smiled wryly.

"Oh yes, I have visited the library, but only briefly. I think a much longer visit is absolutely in order."

Jack could well earn the nickname 'Artful Dodger' had he ever known Dickens. And you never know, perhaps he had!

Smiling, full wattage, Jack nodded.

"It's wonderful isn't it? The Library? And so utterly mischeveous. A friend of mine, Ianto Jones works there and he is forever pulling his hair out over the way the place constantly moves books, hides books, shifts staircases... it's like it's own little city within the City."

Another one of those smiles. "One has to wonder if there might be a deeper method to the madness, of course. This City's ways seem a mystery even to those who have been here for some time. How very unfortunate for your friend, though. I imagine it must very trying. Still, the books therein were quite remarkable. Very unusual."

Yes, this would prove a very interesting place to stay for a time.

"Oh, I don't wonder," Jack said, leaning back against a scaffold he had up against one of the wings. "My personal belief is that this City and it's curses and it's strange quirks is here to teach us all a little something about ourselves. The curses especially."

Jack looked a little haunted as he said that last bit but he quickly shook it off and grinned.

"The library is very trying for my friend, he adores order in things and the library plays silly bugger with that but I honestly don't think Ianto would want to give up working there for just the reason you gave, the remarkable nature of the books."

"An interesting hypothesis. And if our discomfort and discontentment are designed to keep the City in existence, then perhaps to learn these things is to set oneself free."

He couldn't help but notice that look. "And I have been told that the curses are often far from pleasant."

But moving on.

"I understand that quite well: the frustrations are nothing if the rewards are there. Indeed, the frustrations can be part of the reward, after a fashion. Perhaps I'll see your friend the next time I visit."

Even based on these few phrases, he thought he was getting some notion about this friend. Interesting to see if they would hold true upon meeting him.

"I think it's been hypothesized," Jack said thoughtfully. "And some of the curses are quite far from pleasant but strangely enough, they tend to be worse when they trigger something from within yourself. In which case, can you really blame the curse?"

Jack enjoyed pondering these little nuances, often when he was up high on a building, watching the City below and just letting his own thoughts drift.

"You should say hello when you stop by next. His name is Ianto Jones, he's Welsh and wears great suits, hard to miss."

[ooc: Ianto Jones meets Sherlock Holmes ... OMG the epicness! I will so stalk that thread. :D]

"One could only blame the curse inasmuch as it began the chain of events that brought out whatever the worse is. And yet, if one goes essentially mad in the face of a curse, as I have been told happens, then how could one not blame the curse?"

Changing topics again, easily as changing direction on a walk:

"Fond of order even on his own person, hm? I shall be sure to speak to him."

"Oh yes, very much so," Jack said with obvious affection in his tone. "He and a gentleman named Kyle Brooks, take the cake when it comes to fine mens' fashions let me tell you."

The conversation on curses was interesting, Jack just wasn't sure how much he wanted to discuss his own thoughts and feelings on them with a man he'd just met. Still, Sigerson seemed to have a very keen mind and it was likely Jack might attempt to pick it some more at a later date.

In a way, Lars reminded him of the Doctor and that revelation left Jack blinking a couple of times, before he smiled at himself and gave a small nod.

"You should also meet a man called 'The Doctor'. I think you and he would find a great deal to talk about."

"Lars" looked coldly aside a moment.

"I believe I met him on my first day here, unless I'm mistaken. An exuberant fellow, English. He gave me no name save for 'the Doctor' and insisted that I follow him to the zoo to see the ancient beasts that once roamed the earth. He was quite insistent about it."

"Have you then," Jack said with a wide smile. "Well that's brilliant! I imagine he was quite insistent, the Doctor enjoys showing people new and wonderful things, after all."

Yes, just a ~~butt load~~ wee bit of hero worship in his tone when it came to talk about the Doctor.

Not nearly with the same tone of hero worship, more left with a vague bewilderment of being dropped into an unknown city and being taken by a stranger to see living Pteranodons.

"He left me little choice but to accompany him. Regardless, it was quite interesting. Surprising, is perhaps more the word, to find such creatures here. But it fairly well proved the idea that the City pulls in creatures from all places and times. Baptism by fire, so far as the City goes."

Jack chuckled and his expression became a little rueful as he waggled his hand from side to side.

"That might be 50 percent the City trial by fire and 50 percent the Doctor trial by fire. He tends to grab your hand and your off on a whirlwind, regardless of where or when you find yourself."

He raised an eyebrow.

"So he is like that all the time? How very exhausting."

Though, it would seem that like attracted like. This Captain Harkness and The Doctor would be quite a pair if got together.

"Why is he only called 'The Doctor', and not given a name?"

"Pretty much," Jack said, smiling fondly.

The Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness were definitely known for their running when they got together, that was very true!

"Ah, that's sort of a long story and one that he should tell," Jack demurred. "But he is known only as 'The Doctor' but it is a name he brings a great deal of honor and integrity too, I can promise you that."

"It seems quite interesting that he is The doctor and not called Doctor with a name. As though he is the only one. I shall be certain to ask him if I should encounter him again."

He took another look at the plane.

"How long do you suppose before this craft will fly?"

Turning around, Jack eyed the Spitfire thoughtfully.

"Well, I'm doing the delicate work now, the wiring. The engine is already completed so that would leave putting together the actual outer shell and fuel lines ..."

Pursing his lips Jack gave a small nod.

"I'm still expecting to be able to take her up around the first of the year, baring unforeseen setbacks."

"Setbacks, yes. So soon? It's yet a skeleton from the looks of it. Even after these structures are covered, it would be quite a feat to see this actually airborne."

Well, he'd seen Pteranodons with a doctor known singularly by his title. Heaven forbid that he begin putting everything down to "the ways of the City". But, at the moment, a measure of that would do well.

"Might I look around? Thank you."

Not waiting, he set off towards the other side of the plane, glancing here, looking there. Curiosity never hurt anyone. Wires there, wings of course, the tail, all rather goose-shaped, so far as it went. Or, rather, like a headless goose. But, so were the gliders. The wings of birds worked, why could man not harness that? But one would remember Icarus immediately, of course.

But he knew, of course, that an idea could be taken from the world and honed and refined to such a point that it would work infallibly. And here was another demonstration of that.

"It'll come together quickly, once the more delicate work is completed," Jack said and though he arched an eyebrow when the man moved off to make a more thorough study of the Spitfire, Jack trailed along slowly, giving "Lars" some space to peer at his leisure.

Jack felt he should be wary about this curious man with the quick eyes and same sharp intensity that the made the Doctor so charismatic but perhaps it was that similarity to his old friend that made it easier for Jack to relax and enjoy seeing someone be fascinated by his work.

"If you'd like..." Jack found himself offering and he drew down the pages of schematics he'd been working from, laying them out on a table so that Sigerson could get a better look at them.

One thing about the schematics, they were obviously hand drawn, every line and every computation.

It wasn't his favorite sort of puzzle: the final result was useless, but it would do in this pinch. It would at least keep him occupied for a while.

"Ah! The plans themselves."

They were familiar enough, as plans went, and yet much more complicated than the ones he'd seen before. Of course, there was more to a plane than to say, a ship or a train. And, moreover, most remarkable, they had been drawn by hand, fully. An office of engineers and designers might draw up such plans all together, but to do so alone, that was a remarkable feat and labor.

"And, as you said you flew this kind of plane before, did you draw up these plans from memory or was there some assistance from your friend in the library?"

And here, strange to say, there was an actual sort of shyness to Jack. While Jack Harkness and the concept of 'shy' were not exactly close friends, he realized that trying to explain how the drawing of the plans had been a challenge, it was a challenge the way a crossword puzzle might be a challenge in this day and age.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he nodded.

"From memory," Jack admitted. "Mechanics and things mechanical in nature have always been an intense hobby of mine and I spent a great deal of time studying the Spitfire back in the day."

He laughed and gave a little shrug.

"Don't know that I could schematic out an F-14 TomCat or a Strike Eagle but the Spitfire was brilliant not just for her agility in the air but also for her fairly straight forward design. Much needed at the time when they needed quality but fast."

That admittance gave him pause. To be able to recall this much machinery in this much detail with accuracy and assurance in one's own ability to recreate it was quite striking. That memory, that retention of detail and mechanics suggested a very apt mind, a very apt mind. And yet, simultaneously, some hesitance or shyness about it: the hand to the back of the neck. Yet again, some other detail left omitted.

"From memory? How...remarkable."

He stood back again from leaning over the plans.

"I certainly wish you success with it, and bon voyage."

For a 21st Century man, it would have been considered beyond genius. In the 51st Century it was more on par with where the human species had advanced to and if Jack was remarkable beyond that, it was what had drawn the Time Agency to him and then travel in the TARDIS had continued the education.

Not to mention being stuck on Earth for 200 years, you have a bit of time to read. But to try to explain would be making things really complicated and Sigerson might just think him a complete lunatic at the end of it anyway.

"Let's say that there are people who know me who would expect nothing less," Jack said with a smile.

"Thank you. As I said, it's just sort of a project to keep me occupied and out of trouble while I'm here. If you are still with us, I hope you might come out to see her maiden voyage?"

"Let's say that there are people who know me who would expect nothing less." A strange way to put it. Forever implications and very few answers.

"I see. Yes, if I happen to find myself still in the City when it's completed, I will be certain to see it fly."

Jack was a bit of a pain that way.

Turning towards Sigerson, Jack smiled brightly.

"I will hope it to be so, while still hoping you find your way home as well, Sir. In the meantime, I must also inquire if you'd like to come around some time for coffee. Mr. Jones makes the best in the City, it should not be missed."

"The mixed blessings of finding oneself here. Does he indeed? I really should try it sometime."

"You would be most welcome, Mr. Sigerson. I think we can put the coffee at the price of a story of Tibet?"

Jack grinned, he did love hearing the stories of other travelers and he had a feeling that the stories from a man as keen minded as Sigerson might be something to hear indeed.

"I think that would be a very fair price, Captain Harkness. And if the coffee is as good as you say, it shall have to be an equally good story."

"That sound a perfect trade," Jack agreed. "Now, should I be letting you get on with your day, Sir?"

He wasn't sure what other sort of commitments the man might have pressing.

"Or if you'd like I can show you some details as to how the engine works at getting the plane off the ground?"

He thought a moment: in truth he had nothing but time--and yet, there were still a few matters left.

"Save those details for when I've seen this project of yours fly. Thereafter you can, like a magician breaking all the rules, explain to me how it was done. I will have a great appreciation for it after having seen it work."

Jack smiled and politely offered Sigerson his hand.

"I'll look forward to it and also to hearing about Tibet."

He took the offered hand, shook it.

"Likewise, and so you shall hear about Tibet."

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Log: Ongoing

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