Chapter Eight, Part One: The Left Hand of HarknessMature

“Ladies first,” Jack says softly, grinning white teeth at River Song as she caresses the tip of her other pistol against her plumping lips, holding the gun she’s pointing at him with a steady, unblinking fortitude. She reminds him of someone else he knows. 

Her husband. 

The Ponds. Why, always them? Always them. 


He keeps the grin on. Better safe than sorry. She killed his hero. The man he loved. 

“Let me guess? You insist…” she says, almost chirping it as she stares down the barrel of Jack’s webley, biting her tongue like she probably would do to a cutout of her husband, “Lucky for you then, that I’m not a lady. I’d say ‘Just wait till my husband gets here’, but well, he’s off doing something important.”  She winks at Jack, smirking a little with those red, red lips. “Again. What are -you- doing later?” 

Jack laughs, throwing his head back just enough so he won’t lose precision if he’s forced to aim for a closer kill shot. 

The End

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