Behind Blue Eyes - chapter 1 / ? + epilogue
Title Behind Blue Eyes
Topic Torchwood
Characters Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper, Rhys Williams, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Suzie Costello, Tenth Doctor, John Hart, Andy Davidson, Mickey smith, mentions Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, other small-characters
Pairings Jack/Ianto, Jack/John, Doctor/Rose, Gwen/Rhys
Genre AU, thriller, horror, romance, angst
Rating T
Summary Ianto Jones lives a very meticulous life. He has a schedule for everything he does - breakfast, work, personal time, love life, and his murder of the month. But when something goes wrong and one of his victims becomes the Cardiff police's latest case, will he be able to keep his personal life a secret? Not if Jack Harkness, consultant to the police and boyfriend of Ianto Jones, has anything to say about it.
Spoilers None
Author's Note And here we are, the next installment in my little story. This time, you get to peek into the life of Jack Harkness for a change. Special thanks to laisy who made the wonderful banner for this story which you will be seeing in the beginning of every chapter. Also, if you want to be alerted when I update, track the tag "behind blue eyes." Enjoy!
Previous Chapter
Master List
Jack Harkness was a man who thoroughly enjoyed his sleep.
He wasn’t like some people, who only slept because if they didn’t, they would just collapse and be completely useless. No, for Jack, sleep was an event. He loved the feeling of silk sheets encircling his body, his fluffy pillow of fluffiness a boat for his ride into the calm sea of REM. In fact, he was proud to say that the most expensive items in his apartment were his bed, sheets, and pillows. His favorite part about sleeping, though, was getting unintentionally tangled up in the other body that was sleeping with you, and having to ‘apologize’ for invading their space - kissing them senseless long enough to figure out which two feet at the end of the bed were yours was his favorite apology.
Which is why Jack was in a very bad mood when he was woken ahead of time, and to an empty bed.
“G’way.” He mumbled into his cell phone, which he placed on his ear before stuffing his hand back under the covers and closing his eyes, hoping that maybe he just imagined the piercing ringing of his cell phone, and that when the caller ID said “Gwen” it really meant “I’m sorry for giving you this false alarm, please Jack, go back to sleep.” Of course, reality was never so kind.
“Morning to you too.” The voice said, and Jack didn’t even attempt to hide his groan. He snuggled deeper in the sheets and tried to forget that it was a Saturday, and on Saturdays he never got up before nine. Ever.
“Hey, I’m not too happy about it either, Jack, but I don’t think you want to pass this one by.”
The tone of her voice made Jack perk up. He sat up in bed and caught the cell phone as it fell off his face. Bringing the cellular device to his ear, Jack threw off the covers and did a one-handed stretch before standing up. “I swear to god, Gwen, if this is another suicide - I told Smith that if he wanted me to do some psych eval about another teenage drama queen, then he could take the pill bottle she used and shove it up his - ”
“Jack!” The sharp tone cut him off, and he breathed out a large breath of air. He couldn’t help it, he was grumpy at - he checked the time - quarter till seven on a Saturday morning. Being reminded of the time brought another groan. He had been up late too - not what you think. He had a late appointment the night before with his physical therapist, and had gotten home with a psych evaluation he had to have done before the morning to send to a prosecutor - the son of a bitch would be going to jail for a very long time, and Jack had to make sure he took part in it. As the only criminal profiler the Cardiff police had, he normally had things to do with a lot of cases. Of course, he would have waited until later to finish his report, prosecutor be damned, but when Ianto had gotten home, he had been completely soaked through with rain from the storm - not to mention looking like he might pass out from exhaustion. Jack worried about his boyfriend. He worked way too many hours to be a newspaper editor, and when he wasn’t working, sleeping, or shagging Jack, he was at that gym.
He limped over to the closet and chose an outfit at random, not really caring. He grabbed a pair of briefs out of his drawer as well, balancing it all in his one hand while he held the phone up with the other. “Gimme details, Gwen. I don’t want to ride out to wherever the hell you are, to find out it was just another hit and run.”
“This isn’t a hit and run Jack.” He paused and straightened up at the sound of her voice. There was an emotion there, something that he rarely heard out of the homicide detective. It sounded like fear. Detective Gwen Cooper would get annoyed, tired of, fed-up with, and even worried about a case, but never did he hear the kind of unfiltered fear that was in her voice. Oh, to the normal person listening to this conversation, they wouldn’t have hear it, and if they did, would have written it off as annoyance. But Jack heard it - it was his job.
“Address.” He said, gone was the whiny persona he had just been channeling several seconds ago.
“I don’t know Jack, this is pretty bad, meet me at the police station in thirty -”
“Address! You know I need to see the crime scene for me to do my job Gwen. I don’t need you to protect me.” Jack said, using his shoulder to prop up the phone as he wiggled out of the pair of briefs he had worn to bed. Four years ago, Jack would have been sleeping with nothing on with his mother in the room next door. But something had happened, instilling a small amount of modesty in him.
He snapped the phone shut a few minutes later and paused in getting dressed to type the address into his blackberry. He whistled as the route showed up - whoever this killer was, he sure did drive out of his way. Jack hesitated in pulling up his slacks, and as a last minute instinctual thought, he put on jeans instead. He wanted to appear at least halfway professional, so he stuck with his original shirt choice, pulling on a bright pink dress shirt and a loosely-tied brown tie. He tucked his shirt in and pulled on a belt that matched his tie, then grabbed his work boots out of the back of the closet. He was hesitant pulling his boot on to his right foot, having to coax it slowly. Once both shoes were on, he got his camera bag from under the bed, along with his over-the-shoulder satchel that Gwen swore was a man-purse. Jack combated that attack by keeping a poster of Indiana Jones with his papers to pull out.
“Ianto?” He called out as he emerged from the bedroom. He hadn’t even brushed his hair or shaved, and looked a little rugged. He found his lover sitting curled up on their couch, coffee in one hand, book in the other. The Welshman looked up as his name was called, and Jack shot him a begging look.
Without blinking, Ianto sat his own cup on the coffee table and picked up another mug that Jack hadn’t even noticed - it was a travel mug and everything, extra large. Jack didn’t know how the man did it. He looked tired, but it was an accomplished tired.
“You’re a god!” Jack praised, grabbing the thermos and leaning down to kiss Ianto gently on the lips, loving the way the man tilted his head just right so that they could kiss without Jack’s head getting in the way of the book. His eyes swept down his lovers frame - he couldn’t help it - and paused, frowning a bit as he saw a fresh bruise on his torso, and a then cut on his arm. “What happened?”
Ianto glanced down at his bare torso then glanced at Jack before turning the page. “Ran into a machine at the gym and caught myself on a fence on the way to my car last night, couldn’t see a bloody thing. Thought you had the day off?”
“No rest for the wicked.” Jack announced and took a sip of his coffee. “Gwen called - wants my ‘expert advice’ on a body. Out in the middle of nowhere, near an old pig farm. Owner decided to stop by first time in a damn month last night cause of the storm and found it.” Gwen had given him that information along with the address, and he knew it was safe to share. He talked over his cases with Ianto a lot of the time - he didn’t ever have to worry about any of their chats getting in the newspaper either, Ianto had understood the silent promise without Jack ever having to talk to him about it. The Chief of Police hadn’t been happy those three years ago when Jack had let the word out that he was dating a journalist, but he had never had a problem.
He praised Ianto’s coffee once more before promising to call him to let him know when he’d be home, then left.
He didn’t notice how Ianto’s muscles had tensed when he mentioned the pig farm.
--xXx--
He arrived at the crime scene in a little under forty-five minutes, the whole way there his brain coming up with scenario and scenario of what could be so bad that the great Gwen Cooper would be scared shitless. It wasn’t a pretty thought. The images that flashed through his mind grew grimmer and more dreadful as the time went on, and when he pulled his oversized SUV into the rain-soaked mud, he had even scared himself a little bit. The SUV had been a impulse buy, Jack going out one day for a consultation, and the next coming home with the monster. Ianto had just rolled his eyes and said it was just projecting to the world of Jack’s ego - the man had very quickly pointed out (and gave a show) that the only reason he had bought it was for the extra room in the back. Ianto never complained after that.
He stepped out of the SUV and landed in a patch of mud, his boots squelching as he sunk several centimeters - his instinct about wearing jeans and boots had been a good one. He took his camera bag and satchel from the back of the SUV and strung both over his shoulder, going back a second time to grab his walking stick (it was a cane, but Jack would never admit it) after spending several minutes trying to unsuccessfully navigate his bad leg through the almost-swamp.
He made slow progress to the pigpen, which was at least ten yards in from where he had parked. Jack was glad he had four-wheel drive. There were several police cars parked near him and around the road, and as he got closer the police tape became more defined. There were way to many persons milling around, and in the middle of them was Homicide Detective Gwen Cooper.
She was standing there, the only authoritative figure in the bunch, her arms crossed and somehow managing to look in charge even though her boots were halfway submerged in the mud. Jack imagined she would have rather been pacing, but didn’t want to be blubbering around. Her lips were set in a grim line, and her black hair blew softly in the almost non-existent wind. It was funny how calm the weather always seemed to be when there was a crime to uncover, as if giving you one last glimpse of peace before the shit hit the fan.
Gwen was a long time friend of Jack, and an ex-partner. They had worked together on the police force for almost a year and a half, before that grunting their way through school. They had been childhood friends, and Gwen had been his one and only girlfriend. It hadn’t lasted long, about three weeks, until fifteen-year-old Jack realized that he wasn’t as intrigued as his friends were. Even after that, though, they had stayed good friends. They had been ecstatic when they were assigned as partners on the force. Gwen had specialized in murder cases, while Jack had taken the more psychological route. They had made a dynamic team, and solved more cases in their one and a half years than an average police group would in three. They were set for bigger things - UNIT had been rumored to have their sights set on the two.
Of course, that all changed about four years ago, on one fateful night. They had discovered the location of a big drug supplier who had been leaving a trail of bodies - death not by overdose, but by bad drugs. They had teamed up with Narcotics on the case, and it was to be the biggest of their career. Someone, however, had tipped the druggies off ahead of time that the police were on to them, and Jack and Gwen had been faced with a choice. As the first ones on scene, they decided not to wait for their back-up and go in hot, hoping to catch one of the men before they made their escape.
Turned out not to be such a great idea - the men were waiting for them with pistols and shotguns. Jack, seeing the flash of the muzzle a second before Gwen had, jumped in front of her, taking a round of buckshot in the side. The two of them going in had slowed down the druggies just long enough for the backup to make it, and a record number of arrests were made. The same time the police cars were taking away the suspects, an ambulance was taking Jack to the Emergency Room. After several intense hours of surgery, he emerged alive, with several repercussions. The surgeon had managed to remove all of the buckshot, but at a cost. Jack still had several scars on the right side of his torso, and he couldn’t raise his right arm above his head. That, and his right leg had been torn almost to shreds. His calf was gone, leaving just mottled flesh behind, and half of his thigh had to be cut off. Gwen made it out completely unharmed, save Jack’s blood that had soaked through her shirt as she had attempted to staunch the bleeding.
Normal men would have called it quits and stepped away from the life of justice, but Jack wasn’t a normal guy. He took night classes for complete his psychology degree, and ended up becoming the best consult that the Cardiff police ever had. He helped close more cases with his psych evals and interrogation tips than he had when he toted around a badge and a gun. And, just like before, he and Gwen had remained best friends. Jack knew that she still felt guilty, even four years later, but the man had moved on.
“What have we got? This better be good.” Jack said as he came up behind the cop. Gwen turned and raised her eyebrow at him, neither of them able to hide the glimmer of humour behind there straight faces.
“Hello to you too, Doctor.” Gwen said, starting their little greeting they went through whenever meeting on a crime scene. It was a ritual of them, and helped Jack get in the right mood. Most consultants of his degree were limited to the police station, but Jack had a unique talent. His ability to get into the mind of the criminal allowed him to step foot on crime scenes, where he could get the layout in his mind.
“Technically, you should call me Master, since I’ve only got a masters in psychology, Detective.” Jack shot back, giving a quick smirk and refraining himself from calling her a PC. They had come a long way since those long nights of giving out tickets before their classes started.
Gwen snorted, then turned back to the crime scene. Jack followed her gaze, and couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath that followed.
“The boys have been here for several hours, managed to get the body out of the mud and away from the hogs. Didn’t do much, though.” No it didn’t. There was a pen, inside of which several hogs were wadding around in the mud, loving how squishy their play-pen had become. They snorted and oinked at random intervals, letting their friends know how happy they were. Lying next to the mud hole, on top of a blue, mud-stained tarp, was the corpse.
It was an ugly sight; the body was bloated from the rain, its skin a sickly grey colour. There were chunks missing from the body all together, and bite marks that were obviously from the hogs. White bone showed through the mangles skin at places, and others even the white was gone, leaving nothing but scarred stumps of flesh, muscle, and meat. The face was twisted away from recognition, and the clothing was almost nonexistent, the only article still fully intact the tie, hanging limply around the body’s neck like a used noose. The stench was revolting, and as Jack continued to look, he couldn’t help his eyes from stinging.
“No chance the unlucky bloke just stumbled upon the pen in the storm last night?” Jack asked, although he already knew the answer. The desolate farm was literally miles away from civilization, the only buildings anywhere near the area being a deserted warehouse down the street, and the farmer’s own house and other barn. The hogs seemed to laugh at his naive question.
“We don’t think so, although it’s gonna be hell finding out the cause of death - I’m sure Suzie can manage.” Gwen said, running a hand through her hair before resorting back to crossing her arms. Jack knew that stance, it was the one that she used when trying to maintain her hard exterior in front of her men.
“Good ‘ol Suzie. I’m guessing you’re taking the pigs, too?” Jack asked, his hands started to take his camera from his bag, wanting to take pictures to be able to re-create the scene in his head.
“Yeah, dissecting them for the rest of John Doe here. But that’s not why we called you, Jack. You think this was the crime scene?”
Jack brought the camera up to his eyes and started taking pictures. “No, especially not last night, with the rain - unless the killer brought him out here ahead of the storm. Still wouldn’t make sense though - this guy knew what he was doing. This is the cleanest way of getting rid of a body fast. Hogs that are starved enough will eat anything dead - bones and all. I think it was done someplace else, this is too open - just a hunch.”
“You an’ your bloody hunches.” Gwen muttered. “We’ve got men searching the warehouse nearby, and we brought in the farmer for questioning. We should be able to get an ID off of our man here when Suzie is done with him.”
The sound of the shutter was only one of the many sounds that buzzed around the scene. Jack finished taking his photos and put the camera away. Next, he reached into his satchel and took out a small legal pad, and started to write anything that he saw down. The smell, the taste in his mouth, the way the trees in the distance were situated, how many hogs there were, the total number of bite marks on the victim. Anything.
“One of our tech’s also found a small piece of cloth on the fence, but I don’t think it’s gonna give us anything. The damn rain-washed away any footprints or blood that could have been on the scene. We’ll have to hope that there is some DNA on our guy that isn’t his.” Gwen watched Jack as he wrote everything down, completely used to his crime-scene behavior. She also knew that he would go home that night and set up a large white board, filling it with every piece of information that he had. Jack Harkness was thorough; she’d give him that.
“Gotcha.” Jack said when he was finished writing everything down. He closed his legal pad and replaced it in his satchel. “I do have a question though.” He looked at Gwen curiously. “This is horrifying, I’ll admit - disgusting, even. But not what caused that fear in your voice. You’ve dealt with floaters and animal attacks before.”
Gwen took a deep breath, then edged as close as the swamp under her feet would allow. Jack leaned in closer.
“The body wasn’t the only present that washed up from the pig pen, Jack. We’ve got three bones that our on-site forensic team say aren’t from the body.”
“So we’ve got a double homicide?” Jack asked, intrigued. Gwen shook her head.
“The three bones are all from different bodies - we’re pretty sure there human. And we haven’t even finished dredging the mud hole yet.”
Jack straightened up, the information running through his mind, his brain automatically jumping to the most obvious conclusion. “You mean that we’ve got four possible different bodies, all at the same dumping ground - a dumping ground that a professional would use.”
Gwen nodded, and Jack suddenly got the same chills down his back. “Cardiff has it’s own serial killer.”
“Might.” Gwen stressed, but her voice didn’t have much conviction.
Jack sighed, then turned back to look at the deranged body once more. “Might want to brush up on your Hannibal Lecter.”
Next Chapter
Topic Torchwood
Characters Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper, Rhys Williams, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Suzie Costello, Tenth Doctor, John Hart, Andy Davidson, Mickey smith, mentions Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, other small-characters
Pairings Jack/Ianto, Jack/John, Doctor/Rose, Gwen/Rhys
Genre AU, thriller, horror, romance, angst
Rating T
Summary Ianto Jones lives a very meticulous life. He has a schedule for everything he does - breakfast, work, personal time, love life, and his murder of the month. But when something goes wrong and one of his victims becomes the Cardiff police's latest case, will he be able to keep his personal life a secret? Not if Jack Harkness, consultant to the police and boyfriend of Ianto Jones, has anything to say about it.
Spoilers None
Author's Note And here we are, the next installment in my little story. This time, you get to peek into the life of Jack Harkness for a change. Special thanks to laisy who made the wonderful banner for this story which you will be seeing in the beginning of every chapter. Also, if you want to be alerted when I update, track the tag "behind blue eyes." Enjoy!
Previous Chapter
Master List
Jack Harkness was a man who thoroughly enjoyed his sleep.
He wasn’t like some people, who only slept because if they didn’t, they would just collapse and be completely useless. No, for Jack, sleep was an event. He loved the feeling of silk sheets encircling his body, his fluffy pillow of fluffiness a boat for his ride into the calm sea of REM. In fact, he was proud to say that the most expensive items in his apartment were his bed, sheets, and pillows. His favorite part about sleeping, though, was getting unintentionally tangled up in the other body that was sleeping with you, and having to ‘apologize’ for invading their space - kissing them senseless long enough to figure out which two feet at the end of the bed were yours was his favorite apology.
Which is why Jack was in a very bad mood when he was woken ahead of time, and to an empty bed.
“G’way.” He mumbled into his cell phone, which he placed on his ear before stuffing his hand back under the covers and closing his eyes, hoping that maybe he just imagined the piercing ringing of his cell phone, and that when the caller ID said “Gwen” it really meant “I’m sorry for giving you this false alarm, please Jack, go back to sleep.” Of course, reality was never so kind.
“Morning to you too.” The voice said, and Jack didn’t even attempt to hide his groan. He snuggled deeper in the sheets and tried to forget that it was a Saturday, and on Saturdays he never got up before nine. Ever.
“Hey, I’m not too happy about it either, Jack, but I don’t think you want to pass this one by.”
The tone of her voice made Jack perk up. He sat up in bed and caught the cell phone as it fell off his face. Bringing the cellular device to his ear, Jack threw off the covers and did a one-handed stretch before standing up. “I swear to god, Gwen, if this is another suicide - I told Smith that if he wanted me to do some psych eval about another teenage drama queen, then he could take the pill bottle she used and shove it up his - ”
“Jack!” The sharp tone cut him off, and he breathed out a large breath of air. He couldn’t help it, he was grumpy at - he checked the time - quarter till seven on a Saturday morning. Being reminded of the time brought another groan. He had been up late too - not what you think. He had a late appointment the night before with his physical therapist, and had gotten home with a psych evaluation he had to have done before the morning to send to a prosecutor - the son of a bitch would be going to jail for a very long time, and Jack had to make sure he took part in it. As the only criminal profiler the Cardiff police had, he normally had things to do with a lot of cases. Of course, he would have waited until later to finish his report, prosecutor be damned, but when Ianto had gotten home, he had been completely soaked through with rain from the storm - not to mention looking like he might pass out from exhaustion. Jack worried about his boyfriend. He worked way too many hours to be a newspaper editor, and when he wasn’t working, sleeping, or shagging Jack, he was at that gym.
He limped over to the closet and chose an outfit at random, not really caring. He grabbed a pair of briefs out of his drawer as well, balancing it all in his one hand while he held the phone up with the other. “Gimme details, Gwen. I don’t want to ride out to wherever the hell you are, to find out it was just another hit and run.”
“This isn’t a hit and run Jack.” He paused and straightened up at the sound of her voice. There was an emotion there, something that he rarely heard out of the homicide detective. It sounded like fear. Detective Gwen Cooper would get annoyed, tired of, fed-up with, and even worried about a case, but never did he hear the kind of unfiltered fear that was in her voice. Oh, to the normal person listening to this conversation, they wouldn’t have hear it, and if they did, would have written it off as annoyance. But Jack heard it - it was his job.
“Address.” He said, gone was the whiny persona he had just been channeling several seconds ago.
“I don’t know Jack, this is pretty bad, meet me at the police station in thirty -”
“Address! You know I need to see the crime scene for me to do my job Gwen. I don’t need you to protect me.” Jack said, using his shoulder to prop up the phone as he wiggled out of the pair of briefs he had worn to bed. Four years ago, Jack would have been sleeping with nothing on with his mother in the room next door. But something had happened, instilling a small amount of modesty in him.
He snapped the phone shut a few minutes later and paused in getting dressed to type the address into his blackberry. He whistled as the route showed up - whoever this killer was, he sure did drive out of his way. Jack hesitated in pulling up his slacks, and as a last minute instinctual thought, he put on jeans instead. He wanted to appear at least halfway professional, so he stuck with his original shirt choice, pulling on a bright pink dress shirt and a loosely-tied brown tie. He tucked his shirt in and pulled on a belt that matched his tie, then grabbed his work boots out of the back of the closet. He was hesitant pulling his boot on to his right foot, having to coax it slowly. Once both shoes were on, he got his camera bag from under the bed, along with his over-the-shoulder satchel that Gwen swore was a man-purse. Jack combated that attack by keeping a poster of Indiana Jones with his papers to pull out.
“Ianto?” He called out as he emerged from the bedroom. He hadn’t even brushed his hair or shaved, and looked a little rugged. He found his lover sitting curled up on their couch, coffee in one hand, book in the other. The Welshman looked up as his name was called, and Jack shot him a begging look.
Without blinking, Ianto sat his own cup on the coffee table and picked up another mug that Jack hadn’t even noticed - it was a travel mug and everything, extra large. Jack didn’t know how the man did it. He looked tired, but it was an accomplished tired.
“You’re a god!” Jack praised, grabbing the thermos and leaning down to kiss Ianto gently on the lips, loving the way the man tilted his head just right so that they could kiss without Jack’s head getting in the way of the book. His eyes swept down his lovers frame - he couldn’t help it - and paused, frowning a bit as he saw a fresh bruise on his torso, and a then cut on his arm. “What happened?”
Ianto glanced down at his bare torso then glanced at Jack before turning the page. “Ran into a machine at the gym and caught myself on a fence on the way to my car last night, couldn’t see a bloody thing. Thought you had the day off?”
“No rest for the wicked.” Jack announced and took a sip of his coffee. “Gwen called - wants my ‘expert advice’ on a body. Out in the middle of nowhere, near an old pig farm. Owner decided to stop by first time in a damn month last night cause of the storm and found it.” Gwen had given him that information along with the address, and he knew it was safe to share. He talked over his cases with Ianto a lot of the time - he didn’t ever have to worry about any of their chats getting in the newspaper either, Ianto had understood the silent promise without Jack ever having to talk to him about it. The Chief of Police hadn’t been happy those three years ago when Jack had let the word out that he was dating a journalist, but he had never had a problem.
He praised Ianto’s coffee once more before promising to call him to let him know when he’d be home, then left.
He didn’t notice how Ianto’s muscles had tensed when he mentioned the pig farm.
--xXx--
He arrived at the crime scene in a little under forty-five minutes, the whole way there his brain coming up with scenario and scenario of what could be so bad that the great Gwen Cooper would be scared shitless. It wasn’t a pretty thought. The images that flashed through his mind grew grimmer and more dreadful as the time went on, and when he pulled his oversized SUV into the rain-soaked mud, he had even scared himself a little bit. The SUV had been a impulse buy, Jack going out one day for a consultation, and the next coming home with the monster. Ianto had just rolled his eyes and said it was just projecting to the world of Jack’s ego - the man had very quickly pointed out (and gave a show) that the only reason he had bought it was for the extra room in the back. Ianto never complained after that.
He stepped out of the SUV and landed in a patch of mud, his boots squelching as he sunk several centimeters - his instinct about wearing jeans and boots had been a good one. He took his camera bag and satchel from the back of the SUV and strung both over his shoulder, going back a second time to grab his walking stick (it was a cane, but Jack would never admit it) after spending several minutes trying to unsuccessfully navigate his bad leg through the almost-swamp.
He made slow progress to the pigpen, which was at least ten yards in from where he had parked. Jack was glad he had four-wheel drive. There were several police cars parked near him and around the road, and as he got closer the police tape became more defined. There were way to many persons milling around, and in the middle of them was Homicide Detective Gwen Cooper.
She was standing there, the only authoritative figure in the bunch, her arms crossed and somehow managing to look in charge even though her boots were halfway submerged in the mud. Jack imagined she would have rather been pacing, but didn’t want to be blubbering around. Her lips were set in a grim line, and her black hair blew softly in the almost non-existent wind. It was funny how calm the weather always seemed to be when there was a crime to uncover, as if giving you one last glimpse of peace before the shit hit the fan.
Gwen was a long time friend of Jack, and an ex-partner. They had worked together on the police force for almost a year and a half, before that grunting their way through school. They had been childhood friends, and Gwen had been his one and only girlfriend. It hadn’t lasted long, about three weeks, until fifteen-year-old Jack realized that he wasn’t as intrigued as his friends were. Even after that, though, they had stayed good friends. They had been ecstatic when they were assigned as partners on the force. Gwen had specialized in murder cases, while Jack had taken the more psychological route. They had made a dynamic team, and solved more cases in their one and a half years than an average police group would in three. They were set for bigger things - UNIT had been rumored to have their sights set on the two.
Of course, that all changed about four years ago, on one fateful night. They had discovered the location of a big drug supplier who had been leaving a trail of bodies - death not by overdose, but by bad drugs. They had teamed up with Narcotics on the case, and it was to be the biggest of their career. Someone, however, had tipped the druggies off ahead of time that the police were on to them, and Jack and Gwen had been faced with a choice. As the first ones on scene, they decided not to wait for their back-up and go in hot, hoping to catch one of the men before they made their escape.
Turned out not to be such a great idea - the men were waiting for them with pistols and shotguns. Jack, seeing the flash of the muzzle a second before Gwen had, jumped in front of her, taking a round of buckshot in the side. The two of them going in had slowed down the druggies just long enough for the backup to make it, and a record number of arrests were made. The same time the police cars were taking away the suspects, an ambulance was taking Jack to the Emergency Room. After several intense hours of surgery, he emerged alive, with several repercussions. The surgeon had managed to remove all of the buckshot, but at a cost. Jack still had several scars on the right side of his torso, and he couldn’t raise his right arm above his head. That, and his right leg had been torn almost to shreds. His calf was gone, leaving just mottled flesh behind, and half of his thigh had to be cut off. Gwen made it out completely unharmed, save Jack’s blood that had soaked through her shirt as she had attempted to staunch the bleeding.
Normal men would have called it quits and stepped away from the life of justice, but Jack wasn’t a normal guy. He took night classes for complete his psychology degree, and ended up becoming the best consult that the Cardiff police ever had. He helped close more cases with his psych evals and interrogation tips than he had when he toted around a badge and a gun. And, just like before, he and Gwen had remained best friends. Jack knew that she still felt guilty, even four years later, but the man had moved on.
“What have we got? This better be good.” Jack said as he came up behind the cop. Gwen turned and raised her eyebrow at him, neither of them able to hide the glimmer of humour behind there straight faces.
“Hello to you too, Doctor.” Gwen said, starting their little greeting they went through whenever meeting on a crime scene. It was a ritual of them, and helped Jack get in the right mood. Most consultants of his degree were limited to the police station, but Jack had a unique talent. His ability to get into the mind of the criminal allowed him to step foot on crime scenes, where he could get the layout in his mind.
“Technically, you should call me Master, since I’ve only got a masters in psychology, Detective.” Jack shot back, giving a quick smirk and refraining himself from calling her a PC. They had come a long way since those long nights of giving out tickets before their classes started.
Gwen snorted, then turned back to the crime scene. Jack followed her gaze, and couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath that followed.
“The boys have been here for several hours, managed to get the body out of the mud and away from the hogs. Didn’t do much, though.” No it didn’t. There was a pen, inside of which several hogs were wadding around in the mud, loving how squishy their play-pen had become. They snorted and oinked at random intervals, letting their friends know how happy they were. Lying next to the mud hole, on top of a blue, mud-stained tarp, was the corpse.
It was an ugly sight; the body was bloated from the rain, its skin a sickly grey colour. There were chunks missing from the body all together, and bite marks that were obviously from the hogs. White bone showed through the mangles skin at places, and others even the white was gone, leaving nothing but scarred stumps of flesh, muscle, and meat. The face was twisted away from recognition, and the clothing was almost nonexistent, the only article still fully intact the tie, hanging limply around the body’s neck like a used noose. The stench was revolting, and as Jack continued to look, he couldn’t help his eyes from stinging.
“No chance the unlucky bloke just stumbled upon the pen in the storm last night?” Jack asked, although he already knew the answer. The desolate farm was literally miles away from civilization, the only buildings anywhere near the area being a deserted warehouse down the street, and the farmer’s own house and other barn. The hogs seemed to laugh at his naive question.
“We don’t think so, although it’s gonna be hell finding out the cause of death - I’m sure Suzie can manage.” Gwen said, running a hand through her hair before resorting back to crossing her arms. Jack knew that stance, it was the one that she used when trying to maintain her hard exterior in front of her men.
“Good ‘ol Suzie. I’m guessing you’re taking the pigs, too?” Jack asked, his hands started to take his camera from his bag, wanting to take pictures to be able to re-create the scene in his head.
“Yeah, dissecting them for the rest of John Doe here. But that’s not why we called you, Jack. You think this was the crime scene?”
Jack brought the camera up to his eyes and started taking pictures. “No, especially not last night, with the rain - unless the killer brought him out here ahead of the storm. Still wouldn’t make sense though - this guy knew what he was doing. This is the cleanest way of getting rid of a body fast. Hogs that are starved enough will eat anything dead - bones and all. I think it was done someplace else, this is too open - just a hunch.”
“You an’ your bloody hunches.” Gwen muttered. “We’ve got men searching the warehouse nearby, and we brought in the farmer for questioning. We should be able to get an ID off of our man here when Suzie is done with him.”
The sound of the shutter was only one of the many sounds that buzzed around the scene. Jack finished taking his photos and put the camera away. Next, he reached into his satchel and took out a small legal pad, and started to write anything that he saw down. The smell, the taste in his mouth, the way the trees in the distance were situated, how many hogs there were, the total number of bite marks on the victim. Anything.
“One of our tech’s also found a small piece of cloth on the fence, but I don’t think it’s gonna give us anything. The damn rain-washed away any footprints or blood that could have been on the scene. We’ll have to hope that there is some DNA on our guy that isn’t his.” Gwen watched Jack as he wrote everything down, completely used to his crime-scene behavior. She also knew that he would go home that night and set up a large white board, filling it with every piece of information that he had. Jack Harkness was thorough; she’d give him that.
“Gotcha.” Jack said when he was finished writing everything down. He closed his legal pad and replaced it in his satchel. “I do have a question though.” He looked at Gwen curiously. “This is horrifying, I’ll admit - disgusting, even. But not what caused that fear in your voice. You’ve dealt with floaters and animal attacks before.”
Gwen took a deep breath, then edged as close as the swamp under her feet would allow. Jack leaned in closer.
“The body wasn’t the only present that washed up from the pig pen, Jack. We’ve got three bones that our on-site forensic team say aren’t from the body.”
“So we’ve got a double homicide?” Jack asked, intrigued. Gwen shook her head.
“The three bones are all from different bodies - we’re pretty sure there human. And we haven’t even finished dredging the mud hole yet.”
Jack straightened up, the information running through his mind, his brain automatically jumping to the most obvious conclusion. “You mean that we’ve got four possible different bodies, all at the same dumping ground - a dumping ground that a professional would use.”
Gwen nodded, and Jack suddenly got the same chills down his back. “Cardiff has it’s own serial killer.”
“Might.” Gwen stressed, but her voice didn’t have much conviction.
Jack sighed, then turned back to look at the deranged body once more. “Might want to brush up on your Hannibal Lecter.”
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