Chapter Text
It was a pleasant surprise when the knock came to his door. The man in the suit was handsome, in a salt and pepper middle aged type way. His smile showed straight but sightly yellow teeth, probably stained from the expensive cigar smoke that clung to him with a hint of coffee underneath. He was wearing a pristine suit tailored to perfection and holding an envelope.
“Well hello there.” Jack opened the door to his flat wider, flashing his own trademark smile at the man. “How can I help you?” He emphasized the word, letting the invitation hang in the air. He was about to head out for his morning joh, but this could possibly be a more fun version of cardio.
“You are Captain Jack Harkness?” The man’s voice was crisp and businesslike. So, this wasn’t a friendly visit.
“I am.” Jack pushed himself off of the door frame and looked the man over again, this time from the view point that he was possibly a threat, not that much threatened him.
“I have a delivery for you, from the Cole Family.” The man extended the envelope, and Jack noted that he kept his eyes forced directly forward. A quick glance down the hall revealed two shadows skulking near the lift, one looking a bit disfigured at the chest area.
“Cole? As in Lucy Cole-Saxon’s family?” Jack took the envelope cautiously. “Why would I want anything from them?” He lifted the white envelope up to the morning sun, letting the light filter through to show any possible devices or clumps of powder. One could never be too cautious when it came to that particular group of humans.
“You may not want to, Mr. Harkness.” The man’s emotionless mask never wavered. “I was just asked to wait until you read the contents and decided on an answer.”
Jack slowly peeled the metal prongs on the envelope up and lifted the flap. It had been about eight months since he and the rest of the world had worn the face of the Master, a year since it was announced among the in the know groups that Lucy Saxon had died in an explosion at the prison where she was incarcerated. He pulled out the single sheet of paper that was inside. Written, in elegant script, was a letter.
To Captain Jack Harkness,
We have never met, but I understand through my contacts that you were one of the individuals responsible for helping bring an end to Harold Saxon, the deranged alien who weaseled his way into our lives and convinced us to let him marry our Lucy. First and foremost, we would like to extend our thanks for your part in helping to bring him down.
We are reaching out to you now, because we have no other option. We tried to contact other individuals first, such as Martha Jones, but we have not been able to locate her. We also attempted to contact the man known as the Doctor, but he is even more elusive than Mrs. Jones and her new husband Mr. Smith.
As you are aware, last Christmas there was an incident with a group of people known as the Cult of Saxon. Lucy perished trying to stop the Master from returning. However, there was one secret that the original warden of the prison and our family managed to keep secret from the Cult.
The reason that Lucy killed Harold was not just out of spite and hatred for him. He had subjected her to many experiments and tests in attempt to modify something he called Looming. The final attempt was successful, although he was never aware. Lucy’s true reason for shooting Harold and sacrificing herself in the explosion was not just revenge. It was to protect her child.
Yes, Captain Harkness, Lucy was pregnant and Harold was the father. She gave birth five weeks prior to the warden mysteriously dying and being replaced by the Cult leader. The newborn girl was brought to us. We love her, as any grandparents would, but she is just too different, too odd, more like her father than her mother. We cannot care for her adequately in our age, and already the nannies we have tried have begun to notice her oddities.
She doesn’t sleep as an infant should. She does not get sick, as other infants do, and she has particular qualities in regards to her intellectual development that are just not human. We are asking you, as a final resort, to take in our granddaughter. We have heard of your own uniqueness, are aware that you have more knowledge than anyone else on Earth about her father’s species, and that your position at Torchwood would be able to help her grow and develop in a way that we cannot provide.
We would have presented her to you ourselves, but a very kind woman by the name of Lethbridge-Stuart advised that it would be far more beneficial for all involved if it was done in this manner. So, should you choose to take our grandchild in as your own, our lawyer, Andrew Blakenship has the adoption paperwork with him. Should you decline, we understand and custody of our grandchild will be passed over to the Lethbridge-Stuart family.
We thank you, regardless of your decision,
Lord and Lady Cole.
Jack stared at the letter in shock. He looked up at the man before him, down at the letter, and up again. A child? The Master had fathered a child? How did they expect him to raise a half human half time lord baby? He swallowed hard, the automatic response of no forming in his mind. He couldn’t raise the child of the Master. Then, the name of the family that would take her if he said no struck him. The Lethbridge-Stuarts ran U.N.I.T., and as much as Jack appreciated all the things that that particular organization did, he couldn’t justify letting a child, even one fathered by the Master, be subjected to what would likely be a lifetime of experiments and testing.
“Where is she?” He shoved the letter back into the envelope and placed it on the tiny table just inside the door that normally held his keys.
“Bring her over.” The man, obviously Andrew, said crisply as he looked down the hall. A woman and a man came around the corner. The man was cradling a bundle of pink and silver blankets to his chest, and the woman was scanning the hall with a protective gaze. Jack held out his hands, and the man holding the swaddled baby met his eyes with a look that said if he tried anything he’d be in trouble. Then, he placed the bundle into Jack’s arms.
Peeling back the blanket, Jack’s gaze fell on the dozing infant. She was tiny, for what must have been a nine month old, not unhealthy but just small. She had soft cornsilk curls that framed her face, porcelain colored skin, and a pair of pink lips that were pursed into a pout. He tiny hands were fisted into her chest around a small gold colored rattle. Although he knew there was no relation, he was instantly reminded of another baby he had seen, one he had watched grow up from afar, with blonde hair and pink lips. “I’ll keep her.” He knew that was the answer. There was no other answer.
If he didn’t, who knew what the child would grow up to endure. If he didn’t, and the Doctor found out, Jack knew that there would be a reckoning. He looked up at the trio. “I said I’ll keep her.”
“Shall we step inside and discuss the legalities while my friends here retrieve her items from downstairs?” If Andrew was shocked, he didn’t let on.
“Yeah.” Jack cradled the little girl to his chest and stepped back inside. “Come in.” He led the man into the kitchen to the table and gestured to a chair, before taking a seat himself. He stroked one of the soft cheeks, and the tiny girl gave a soft whimper and began to fuss. He felt a brief moment of hesitation, recalling how the Doctor had said that Jack felt wrong to him. He wondered if the baby could sense his factual presence at this age. Once he pulled his finger back her face fell into a peaceful state again.
“I was told to inform you, that you needn’t worry about providing for the child.” Andrew produced a thick file from inside his coat and began pulling out papers. “Lord and Lady Cole have an arrangement set up to deposit a hundred thousand pounds a year into your personal account.”
“I won’t need it.” Jack cut the man off, indignation rising in his chest. “They don’t have to pay me off to say yes.”
“Well, Captain Harkness, I understand that but is their wish to make sure that the child has the best possible future.” He slid a form across the table with a pen. “You can choose to have it deposited into a trust account for her instead if you would like.”
Jack glanced down at the banking paperwork, noting the line to waive the money into a trust. He shifted the girl into one arm and signed. It was a lot of paperwork, form after form agreeing everything from custody to the right to have his name on the birth certificate instead of Lucy’s. It didn’t go unnoticed that there was no name listed for the child anywhere. “What’s her name?”
“The Coles just called her Princess, and as far as I know she has no legal name.” Andrew didn’t even look up as the other two carried in boxes of formula, a swing, a play pen, what looked like a disassembled crib, a variety of toys, boxes and bags of clothes. Jack had already told them to leave it in the living room. He had a spare bedroom, but it was full of weapons and technology he was working on.
“What should we name you, huh Princess?” Jack couldn’t help himself from cooing down at the tiny girl. “What should Jack call you?” The little girl didn’t answer, of course, but Jack rolled through lists of names he had come across on his travels. Looking down at her, only two seemed to fit her past and her possible future. “How about Felicity, because I’m lucky I was home when Andrew came to bring you, and Seren, because your people come from the stars?”
“Felicity Seren Harkness.” Andrew began filling the name on the forms, pausing just enough for Jack to nod at the spelling. It took an hour or so more for the paperwork to be completed, and once it was done, the man and woman had assembled the crib, swing set, and toys.
Jack escorted them all to the door, gazed around at the expensive accessories, and sighed. “This all has to go.” He sighed. Now that he was alone with Felicity, who was beginning to stir from where he had laid her in the crib, doubt began to set in. He knew how to raise a child, but he was pretty much alone. Everyone was gone, except Martha and Mickey.
He watched as Felicity’s eyes fluttered open, revealing piercing, sea-foam green irises. “Nanna?” She whimpered, kicking her feet free of her blankets. “Nanna?” The tiny girl locked eyes with him, freezing as the pale eyebrows went high.
“Nanna’s not here, Felicity.” Jack steped forward to pick the girl up, receiving a shock when she rolled over to grab the crib rails and blink at him.
“Pwincess.” Felicity’s voice was wavering a bit in uncertainty, as she took in her surroundings. “Want Nanna.” Her lower lip trembled, and tears began to form. “Pwincess want Nanna.”
Realization struck Jack at the same time fear did. The letter had said she was unique, and now he understood. No human child could formulate such words at nine months old. He swallowed hard, wondering if perhaps he had made a mistake. Yet, he couldn’t back out of this now. “Nanna had to go away for a bit, Princess.” He forced a comforting smile onto his face. “Are you hungry? How about some milk?” The tears leaked from her eyes as she pulled herself up on her tiny legs and sniffled. She nodded, causing her pale curls to bounce. “Well, up we get Princess.” He reached down and pulled her into his arms.
“Huh.” Felicity’s voice came out in a single syllable. Her tiny fingers clinging to his neck clenched. He felt the slightest of tickles across his thoughts, no stronger than a butterfly landing on his face. “Daddy Jack? What mean?”
Jack had to stop himself from dropping her. So she was as much as touch telepath as her father and the Doctor. This was going to be tough. “You’re Princess, and I’m Daddy Jack.” He explained carrying her into the kitchen to get her a bottle. “And it means that I’m going to have to get some help.”
“Pwincess help.” Felicity wriggled in his arms reaching for the container of formula, causing Jack to yelp and pull her upright.
He was in for a ride, and a single person came to mind he wondered why he over looked. “Let’s get you some breakfast, Princess, and then we’ll call Aunt Sarah Jane.”