Oizys - Torchwood/Whitechapel Crossover
Title: Oizys
Author: Estella Greenleaf
Genre: Whitechapel Torchwood Crossover
Setting: Post S3 Whitechapel
Pairing: Chandler/Kent, Jack/Ianto
Rating: Eventual M
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Inspired by: gasara’s theory of Morgan’s guilt, Torchwood audiobooks Another Life and Sin Eaters
Author’s note 1: I’m a romantic at heart, so please be warned that this may seem a little too saccharine for a Whitechapel story. Please also note that some chapters will have warnings (dark themes and/or mature contents). Last but not least, I am going to try to write and post this quickly, other obligations permitting, so I apologize for the short chapters and unpolished language.
Author's note 2: Story is no longer untitled. It is now called Oizys, after the name of the Greek goddess of Misery
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Chapter 1: Welcome to Torchwood
Kent found himself in front of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse when he arrived at the address that was supposed to be the Torchwood headquarters. He frowned at the GPS that announced in a cheery voice “You have arrived at Torchwood”, and wondered at the strangeness surrounding his transfer. He supposed he should have known it was inevitable; there was no way Joe… no, he’s got to stop thinking about the man in such personal terms… there’s no way Chandler could continue working with him, not when it’s his fault that Morgan was murdered. He should never have left the psychologist alone that night. But the way she looked at him as she told him ‘being a bad cop’ was more him than he thought was just too much. It’s as if his soul had been laid bare, as if she could see all of his hopelessness and jealousy and shame and had found him wanting.
So immersed was the young DC in his musing that he didn’t notice a man had come to stand beside him. “Welcome to Torchwood,” a bright booming voice announced with an American accent next to his ear, causing him to jump away in surprise and into his motorcycle, almost knocking it over.
A gray wool-clad arm reached out to prevent the bike from falling; as the same jovial baritone continued, “Captain Jack Harkness, at your service.”
Kent turned to find one of the most gorgeous men he’s ever seen beaming at him. For a second, the young man felt as if he were at the center of the universe, to be capable of engendering the twinkle of interest in such a bewitching stranger’s merry blue eyes. He found his lips curving into a shy smile, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, before realizing the inappropriateness of his reactions. Forcing himself to calm, he replied coolly, “DC Emerson Kent, reporting for duty, sir.”
“You’re going to have to stop calling him that if you want any chance of keeping things remotely professional around here. Jack gets a bit excited when people call him sir,” a soft lilting voice called out from the direction of the entrance of the warehouse.
Kent whipped his head round towards the voice, to see an impeccably dressed young man wearing a three-piece pinstriped charcoal suit, not much older than himself, watching his exchange with the captain with amusement. The young DC couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen or heard either of them approach. What kind of detective would miss something like that? No wonder the Krays got the drop on him. Morgan was right, he was a bad detective, no, scratch that, he was pathetic…
“I do not!” replied the captain with indignation, face set in a pout that was prettier than it had any right to be. Kent liked to think himself above judging a man by their looks; but everything about Captain Jack Harkness was just so *attractive*, down to the lovely cologne that seemed to be screaming, ‘I’m sexy and I know it. Come and get me if you dare.’
Kent was roused from his musing on the virtues of his new boss when the young man moved closer and offered his hand. “Ianto Jones.”
The handshake was firm, and the young DC thought he saw a flicker of cold calculation in the other man’s eyes as their gazes locked. But just as suddenly as the look appeared, it was gone; and all that’s left of cool, polite professionalism. He watched as Ianto turned towards the captain and said, “I’ve left some coffee and pastries for you with the files. I’m off to work if you don’t need anything else.”
“Nah, we’ll be fine. Wouldn’t want you to be late on your first day,” Jack replied, face set once again in the devil may care grin that Kent found, not that he’d admit it, quite enthralling.
Ianto gave a curt nod in reply and began his purposeful march towards the SUV, parked at the side of the warehouse. His progress was halted, however, when the captain called out, “Oh, and Ianto…”
“Yes, Jack?” the Welshman asked quietly, turning slightly to glance at the captain.
Kent never considered himself an expert on relationships; but the moment he saw Jack’s and Ianto’s eyes met across the distance, he knew… this moment was private, and he was intruding. He turned his gaze away; but he didn’t need to see to know the look of concern and tenderness on the captain’s face as the man replied, “Be careful.”
“As you wish, sir,” was the reply; and Kent was left to wonder when he’d ever learned to stop wishing for the attention of someone so far above him, be it an enigmatic gorgeous captain of a secret government organization or a obsessive-compulsive, but no less captivating, detective inspector.