cuda: Jack Harkness from Torchwood and Castiel from Supernatural, about to kiss (jack and castiel romance)
[personal profile] cuda
Play It Again, Jack
A SuperWho Big Bang Fic

Author's Notes: I could not, absolutely could not have finished this story without the help of my two favorite people on the planet. First, thank you to my girl, [personal profile] amberdark, for her brilliance, her patience, her encouragement, and her willingness to both give up time so I could write and put up with my incessant babbling. And second, thank you to my wingsister and beta [personal profile] touchofstrange whose formidable knowledge of the Whoniverse and Supernatural literally saved this fic a few times. Without you ladies, this story would still just be a lot of questions and half-finished ideas.

A MASSIVE thank you to Ash ([ profile] xnoventumx) for signing up to be my artist! It was short notice and you are fantastically awesome for putting up with my frenzied emails. I hope you had fun! And I hope the story didn't give you a massive headache.

And last - but certainly not least! - to my SuperWho (and by extension, SuperWood and SuperWhoLock) Tumblr family. HEY! HEY GUYS! We've made our own damn fandom! You keep me supplied with screencaps, art, gifts, photosets, videos, theme songs, and ideas. Without you, I'd still be writing Castiel/Jack slash in a corner by myself. EVERYTHING IS SUPERWHO AND NOTHING HURTS.

Like sexuality, boarding school rules and paperclips, time can be bent. Since you're talking to me, I'm pretty sure you know that already. It can be twisted, folded back on itself, sliced apart and sewn together. For being intangible, it's one of the most readily manipulated substances in the universe. Right up there with water and a Traxxian after a few cocktails.

Kidding, kidding. The cocktails are optional.

Most of the twenty-first century world we live in has a different attitude about time. There's as many takes on it as there are species on Earth: spirals, rays, wheels, highways, rivers, and that's just the metaphysical - the 'religious' opinions, if you will. That's not even touching on theories of parallel realities caused by choices that fragment-- heh, you get the idea. But just about everyone agrees on one key principle: you can't go back. You can write about it, make movies, sing songs, and daydream, but you can't actually go.

They're wrong, of course. With enough power and the right technology, you can go anywhere (and anywhen) you want. My opinion on whether or not that's a good thing changes by the day. Then again, I only know a handful of the Doctor's stories and I already know that if time was strictly linear, the universe would have been dead a long, long time ago. So I guess, looking at it that way, it's a good thing after all.

Doesn't change the fact that it's an unstable, complicated pain in the ass. Time does what it wants, breaks its own rules, and no matter how important you think you are, it will keep right on ticking away without you.

No wonder I love it. It's the most functional, honest relationship I've ever had.

The reason I bring up time is because this story is about it. This story is because of it. There are reasons why we have rules for time travel, and there are reasons why we break those rules. When you break a rule, there's always fallout. Sometimes if you're lucky, you have the chance to fix it instead of only suffering through.

Sometimes, if you're very lucky, you actually succeed.

But that's sort of getting ahead of myself.

Fair warning, I do that a lot.

If I'm telling this story chronologically, we'd start back in 2007, when - without realizing it - I met my first angel of the Lord. But time's a messy thing the minute the Doctor is involved (and when Captain Jack Harkness is involved, things get messy, period). So we'll start when it all actually kicked off, which was a gorgeous Friday afternoon in April.

In 2011.

If we're talking about me here (Which we are. Aren't you excited? I know I am.), this happened before I met the Doctor. Although at that point in Earth's timeline I'd managed to take over Torchwood, rebuild it in his image, and then disband it. Or maybe I hadn't yet, because the April he took Rose to see the Prince, they were still getting to know one another. It'd be a while before they showed up in the middle of war-torn London to botch a perfectly good con (enter yours truly).

See what I mean? Time gets messy. Dates are sort of irrelevant at this point, and you'd only get confused.

How do I know all this?

Let's just say information tends to fall into my lap.

So. Back to Prince William Arthur Philip Louis. He was getting married. All right looking guy; too British for my taste. The Doctor has soft spots for people, occasionally, which is how the creatures I'd come to know as the Leviathan ended up such a threat in the first place. Bad thing, when the Doctor gets a soft spot.

Oh. Not for Prince William.

Though I'm pretty sure he's got a thing for blondes.

Master Post | Part 2
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