ROTQ (5/8)
Title: The Roots of the Quadratic (5/8)
Author: nancybrown
Fandoms: Torchwood, Doctor Who
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Alice, Jenny, John Hart, OCs
Rating: R
Beta/Britpick: queenfanfiction, wynkat1313, temporal_witch, and fide_et_spe had a hand in fixing this. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Spoilers: up through CoE, one spoiler for "End of Time," one spoiler for Bay of the Dead
Warnings: character death, angst, child endangerment, mentions of sexual coercion, violence, timey-wimey temporal physics, and of course, Captain Bad Touch rides again
Words: 46,000 (6,200 this part)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
***
Chapter Five
***
"I'd like to be able to say that it amazes me how much time humans in particular spend on convincing other people to have sex with them. Unfortunately, I'm usually naked by that point and then there's not much opportunity for talk. [So your running commentaries during sex don't qualify as talking?]" - from "Me: An Autobiography"
***
Alice's bath only lasted an hour. The water got cold, and she didn't have a book. When she emerged from the tub with her towel, she found Flora in the sitting room playing with her daughter Katie. The stab went through her and out again, and Alice managed a smile. She hated the Time Agency, hated the 456 and everyone involved in the clusterfuck surrounding them. But here was a little girl who never would have been born back on Earth. The part of Alice that fought against the random cruelty of the universe insisted that had to mean something. The rest of her wondered how many children were never born because their would-be parents had choked and died that day.
After she dressed, Alice sat on the sofa watching them. "I've imposed on your hospitality enough. I should go live in the dormitory."
"It's been no trouble," said Flora. "I like having another adult around. I've missed that." Katie's father, Alice had been told, had also donated a sample for Flora to conceive her second child. Everything was recorded in a database the Agency had helped them construct. In the next generation, they would be expected to intermarry with the neighbouring colonies. By the time the planet's automatic contact system was activated, they should have a healthy, thriving, and genetically-diverse population ready to meet up with the last survivors of the human race in the wider galaxy. In the long term, it meant genetic continuity, but in the short term, while people were encouraged to breed, not all would find a suitable partner for a relationship.
"How is the dating scene here?" Alice asked.
"If you're straight and not picky, it's robust. A lot of people aren't looking for long term, and thanks to the shots, there aren't any STIs to worry about. Colin had HIV and even he's fine." She gave Alice a more measured look. "Are you straight or picky?"
"Looking at my exes, I think I was less picky than I gave myself credit for." Sometimes she wondered what Joe would make of her new life. He'd come to the funeral, and she hadn't had tears to spare to scream at him.
Flora still watched her. When Alice didn't say more, she said, "There's not much of a gay community. A few of the younger girls say they're bi, but most of them are out with the boys. Sahira's bi, but she said if she was going to have kids with someone, she wanted to be in a relationship with him, so she and Steve got married."
"What about the guys?"
"Vijay and Nico got married. I think Forrest and Kris are seeing each other. If there's anyone else, they haven't come out."
Alice snorted. She placed even odds that five hours after her father finally arrived here, a good third of the men would suddenly decide they weren't as straight as previously claimed. It had happened once at a party she'd thrown when Mum had been out of town. There hadn't been enough alcohol in the house to drown out the image of her father snogging a boy in his last year that she'd had a crush on since Form One. She sighed.
"I like you. I'm not going to tell you I'm straight, but I'm not planning on getting involved with anyone."
"Because you're going to leave?"
Alice kept her voice calm. "What makes you say that?"
"We all had the same thought. Those of us who could remember. It'll pass." She tickled her daughter on the arm. "Give yourself time."
But Alice had time, all the time in the universe. Jenny had given it to her.
***
Supper was outdoors in the fine evening air. A bonfire burned pleasantly, chasing away the bugs, and they all ate cold leftovers from the previous day piled onto sandwiches. Ianto was put in mind of any number of community picnics, and he breathed in the fresh air tanged with good smoke as he ate voraciously. He'd walked to the next colony, just to see, and he knew he'd be feeling it tomorrow, but for now he was satisfied. He didn't speak the main languages used at the other colony, but two people spoke English and told him their home had been threatened by a giant wave. The Time Agency had pulled them all to safety: parents, children, elderly, everyone. Their lives continued on this new world, five hundred people saved from the waters.
He wondered if there was a planet for the victims of the Titanic.
Ianto took a long drink of water. The one thing this planet could use more of was fresh water. The colony had a series of wells that provided enough, but his walk had been through thin, brown grasses sapped of moisture by the summer sun, and he'd drunk his whole water supply by the time he'd reached the next colony and had to ask for more to come home. The big red house where he'd lived with Jack had a river close by, which Ianto would often sit beside for hours, just listening, and now even that was gone. He missed the sea.
After the food, there were games, which he declined to play, and alcohol, which some colonists had been brewing from their grain. Bottles passed from hand to hand, and he took a grateful swig when it was his turn, mindless of the sour burn. Jack didn't drink except on very special occasions so Ianto hadn't touched rotgut in years.
He passed the bottle to a pretty girl with red hair. "You're the new guy," she said, taking a drink of her own.
"Ianto."
"Laurie."
"It's nice to meet you, Laurie."
She giggled. "So where did you come from?"
"The Time Agency brought me here. Wiped my memories," he said quickly, hoping to forestall any additional questions.
She nodded sympathetically. "They took two months from me. I wish I knew why."
"Who can say?"
"What did you do back on Earth? Before they wiped you."
"Oh." His old life flashed before him. "Nothing really interesting. Admin work."
"You were an admin?" Disbelief filled her round face.
"Fastest filer in all of Cardiff."
"I'd have figured you were one of the higher ups. Or maybe a scientist. They said we had a few of those running around in the building."
"Nah," he said. "Well, they did wipe me. For all I know, I was the Prime Minister."
She laughed. "Couldn't be. All the PMs have been gits. You seem nice."
He thought back. Green had been willing to hand over the world's children to save his arse. Saxon was a maniacal alien bent on world destruction who killed Ianto and his friends and at least a tenth of the Earth's population. "I liked Harriet Jones." He often wished his own official death had been even a fraction as purposeful as hers had been.
"She was okay." Laurie didn't appear to be really interested in politics. "Where do they have you working?"
"In the fields. It's very strange, knowing things about beans."
She laughed. "I'm in construction. We put up and maintain the buildings. You got a place to live yet?"
"I'm staying with Harry's family."
"Well, I'm sure you're on the list for housing. We're going through it pretty fast. You know you get a higher priority if you're married."
He wasn't sure if that was a proposition or just small talk. He decided he didn't want to find out. The tiny Jack Harkness who lived inside his brain kicked him as he said, "I'm attached."
"Already?"
"From before."
"Oh. Those don't count. You'll see. Everything's new here. It's a second chance."
Yes, he thought, but one that they didn't necessarily need to have. He looked around the fire, saw faces, none familiar. How many of them would recognise him if he said he was from Torchwood? How many would want his head in retribution for the lives they'd lost?
There was a thump beside him. "Alice."
"Ianto." She looked over at Laurie. "Who's this, then?"
"This is Laurie. Laurie, this is Alice."
"Hi," said Laurie, her perky smile fleeing in the presence of the other woman.
"Charmed," Alice said, in a tone that said she wasn't.
"You two arrived together, then?" Laurie asked.
"Oh yes," said Alice. "We go way back. He shagged my father for years."
Laurie's eyes went wide. She turned to Ianto, who merely shrugged. Alice had apparently learned her tact right at home.
"Sorry. You could have said." And a moment later, she was gone.
Ianto watched her leave. "That could definitely have been phrased more derogatively. Thank you."
"She was hitting on you."
"I'd noticed."
"And she's about half your age." He'd noticed that too, but he'd ignored it. "And you're gay."
"I'm not gay."
"Are you about to quote you know who about labels?"
"Depends. Is that on the 'smacking' list?"
She glared at him. He glared back. The bottle came round again, and he watched her take a long drink before she passed it. Fastidiously, he wiped the mouth.
"So how did you meet my father?" she asked, faked interest laced with heavy sarcasm.
"Oh, the usual story. I stalked him to get hired on so I could install my half-converted Cyberman girlfriend in the cellar and find her a cure. Jack found out and tried to feed her to the pet pterodactyl I gave him. When she transplanted her brain into a pizza girl, Jack and the rest of the team shot her." Alice stared at him, jaw agape. "And after that, well, I was single again, and he wasn't busy. So." He took a long drink. Then he passed the bottle.
"You've had a three thousand year long relationship with your rebound shag?"
"Five thousand. He did that bit underground."
"I remember." The mild horror on her face hadn't faded. "You're completely mad, you know."
"In fact, I have. Had. A piece of paper from Providence Park to assert that I'm not." He wondered if Rhi was given that amongst the rest of his belongings. Gwen had always been horrified about the Torchwood policy regarding employees and their possessions, he recalled. "Our colleagues really never got us. He took care of me when most people would have written me off, and when I got back on my feet, I made it my job to take care of him." One of the things they had in common: caring for someone else reminded each how to be human. Although Ianto had never wanted children of his own, there were times he'd considered the prospect solely for Jack's benefit. They could take advantage of fifty-first century medical technology now so that when Ianto was dead and gone, Jack would still have someone else to look after and love. On a more selfish note, giving Jack a child would also guarantee Ianto would be remembered just a little longer.
He glanced at Alice again and reminded himself that merely having a child was no guarantee that Jack wouldn't screw up somehow. He sighed.
"What about you and Jenny? How'd you meet?"
Alice played with a spot on the knee of her trousers. "She saved me."
"Aliens?"
"Suicide."
"Ah." He was in no place to judge. There was a reason he'd had his paper.
***
The dormitory was a friendly enough place. While the construction crews worked on individual houses, most based on a very simple ranch-style model, the colonists who weren't married and either hadn't had children or weren't interested in raising the ones they'd helped create could live together in a reasonably managed group. Alice shared a large room with three other women, with her own bed. After a week on the sofa, it felt like a luxury. She had only wakened once to the muffled sounds of one of her roommates rutting with a man she didn't know, but most of the time, people aimed for privacy when they had sex.
Alice missed sex. She'd slept with a few of the men she and Jenny had encountered in their travels, the most infamous one being her father's ex-lover. She hadn't slept with Jenny, though not for lack of thinking about it. Three planets ago, Alice had shagged a gorgeous blonde in the midst of saving her village from robotic pirates, and it had nothing to do with the woman herself. But when it came to her best friend, Alice worried about changing the dynamic they'd spent so long building. Back in her youth, she'd ruined any number of friendships by introducing sex to the equation, and she didn't intend to make that mistake with Jenny. If she ever saw Jenny again.
On a rest day, Alice sat alone at lunch, wondering if Ianto had wandered off to the next colony. A man she vaguely recognised sat down next to her.
"Hi," he said.
"Hello." She continued to eat.
"I'm Gary."
"Alice."
"I know." He grinned. "I've seen you around. You're usually with your friend."
"He's off somewhere today," she said, absently. "Do you need something?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a picnic with me later. Get away from here for a bit." She stared at him, finally. Gary was good-looking, in a tattered sort of way, like he had heard of how to fix his hair and wear his stock Agency-issue clothing (they were going to start a proper textiles industry next year after the construction phase ended) but hadn't really paid attention past the basics. He resembled a scarecrow, even to the straw-coloured hair sticking up from his head.
"That'd be … Sure." Why not? She didn't intend to get involved with him, but it wouldn't hurt to have some fun. And, she thought with more fear than she wanted to admit, they'd been here a month now with no word from the others.
Five hours later, the picnic basket was abandoned and they were half-naked on the blanket she'd brought. Kissing was good, sex was better, but Alice had no intention of getting pregnant. On a colony world with no birth control options available, she refused to deal with penetration and the risks involved.
"You sure?" he said into her ear, his hands doing wonderful things inside her knickers.
"Positive." His fingers worked inside of her obligingly. Her owns hands grasped his hips, bumping against them as he brought her off. She took him into her mouth after, a simple suck for a simple night together. Smooth and easy. And there was one itch scratched.
They walked back together, attempting to hold hands but the picnic basket was too unwieldy. "I worked in maintenance," he said. "I was down in the boiler room when the alarm went off. I never even made it up to the first floor. I thought there'd been a fire, or a bomb, or something."
"The newspapers said it was bioterrorism. They didn't say the aliens did it, but I guess they didn't lie."
"You died after that."
"I died the following day." He took her hand again, and somehow managed the basket with the other this time.
"Can I see you again?"
She tilted her head. "Ask me next week. I'll probably say yes."
***
Hart had gone to his cabin for a lie-down (he'd claimed). Jenny didn't care if he was sleeping, humping the bunk, or plotting their deaths, as long as he was out from underfoot. She wasn't happy with Jack's help on Hilda's poor fried systems, and calculated a 78% chance that he'd electrocute himself again before they were finished.
"The good news," he said from the corner, elbows-deep in wiring, "is that I don't think we'll need any extra parts." He extracted his hands and wiped them on his trousers.
"How long did you have your Chula ship?"
"A little over a year, by my reckoning. She needed a lot of work when I first got her, so I had a crash course in maintenance." Knowing Jack's history, there was a 34% chance that he had stolen the ship, and a 46% chance he'd purchased it in a shady transaction. She considered the chances that he either found it abandoned or bought it fairly to be possible but equally unlikely.
"I've had this ship for approximately ten standard years. The AI came online about three years ago while we were repairing the computers."
"Oh," said Jack, rubbing a gentle hand over one support strut. "She's just a baby, then."
"I am not a baby," said Hilda.
"Of course you're not, dear," Jenny said. The time circuit was almost fixed, but the engines still needed work. If they were to go back to the Agency again to find the data they required, Hilda must be ready to run.
Jenny told herself that they were in a time machine, that honestly, Alice could not be in any danger because they could arrange to arrive minutes after she materialised at the Thames House colony. Still she worried. Alice was good at getting herself out of trouble, but Jenny only knew this because of Alice's penchant for finding it in the first place. And she had to look after Ianto while she did it, because if Alice's tales and Jenny's observations were accurate, anyone dim enough to be involved with Jack on a long-term basis probably didn't have the self-preservation skills necessary to work Velcro shoe closures. Given the data available, she estimated an 84% probability that at least one of them would be incarcerated by the time Hilda arrived in orbit.
Jack kept his eyes on the work before him. In a tone that he probably intended as casual, he asked, "So how's she doing?"
"Hilda will be fixed soon."
"Alice. How's she … How long has it been?"
Oh. This was going to be one of those conversations. With Alice, Jenny found reserves of patience. With the abomination, much less so. "Not quite ten Earth years." She spared a glance to him, watched his big fingers poke uselessly for a moment at the wires. "She's coping."
"I won't ask if she still hates me."
"Good." Jenny continued working, could not help but notice he'd stopped. "If you want to know how she is, ask her."
"We're not good at talking to each other."
"You've got thousands of years to learn."
He smiled weakly. "Do you talk much to your father?"
Her hearts skipped, as they often did when she thought about him. He hadn't abandoned her intentionally, which was more than she could say for many of his companions over the years. Still, his absence hurt sometimes, in the calm times between adventures. "We've only run into each other three times since I was born."
"Oh." His hands restarted their work. "I figured he was the one who sent you to find Alice. That's his kind of thing to do."
She shook her head. "I was thinking about finding someone to bring along, when I found a note addressed to me telling me where and when to find her."
He nodded. "Notes from yourself from the future. I've done that. Back in the Agency, we had guidelines on how to word it, codes to make sure you knew it was yourself. I always used my brother's birthday."
"It wasn't from me."
"Then who?"
"I'm not sure." She'd known it was important, known as soon as she read the brief words that Alice was exactly the right person to travel with her. "Alice didn't recognise the handwriting."
"You still have it?"
She wanted to stay and keep working, but she also knew he'd wheedle and prod until she gave up in frustration and went to retrieve the much-folded and perused sheet from her cabin anyway. When she returned and handed it to him, she was unsurprised to see the smile spread across his face.
Jenny sighed. "Have you sent it yet?"
"Not yet. Tell me again where and when you found it."
***
The hours in the field, while hard, were putting a defining cut on his muscles as well as tanning him gently. (One of the inoculations was permanent SPF protection, his roommate Malik had explained.) The food was plain but nutritious and filling. Although he was nearing fifty, Ianto mused that he hadn't been in this good a shape in his youth, which had been filled with bad food, little sleep, and rare exercise. Blame the Time Agency all he wanted, but their diet programme would put the Atkins cultists he'd known back home to shame.
He'd received permission to take an extra day off to go to the next colony past the tsunami survivors. There he'd met a colony drawn together from three aeroplane crashes. One crash happened four years after his death, and he'd lingered, listening to news of things from long ago. Their colony was more divided than the other two he knew; passengers hailed from different years and different countries, and viewed one another with suspicion still.
Should it look like he and Alice were stranded here for good, he decided he'd move to the aeroplane colony. Alice could stay or go as she pleased. He'd originally thought to stay close in order to protect her, but the colonies were free of crime, disease, and war. There was nothing to protect her from, save her own mistakes, and she was an adult.
Ianto did not like Gary much, if anyone asked him. No-one ever did.
"You know we've been here two months," Alice said to him one evening at the weekly bonfire. "Sixty one days."
"That can't be right." But of course it was. He'd helped with the first harvest of the season already. Three more babies had been born and he thanked God they hadn't given him the midwifery implant; delivering one baby had been more than enough for his tastes. Time was passing.
"What if they can't find us?" Her eyes were big and worried.
"They'll find us." Aiming for a safer topic, if not by much, he asked, "How's Gary?"
She waved her hand. "Who knows? He's taken up with that Laurie."
"I'm sorry. I thought you two were together."
"It was just a bit of fun," she said airily. "Not my problem if she wants him to be exclusive."
That sounded familiar: enjoy the amusement while it lasts, don't mope when it's gone. But telling Alice she sounded exactly like Jack was certainly at the top of the smacking list, so instead he just nodded quietly and tried not to wonder how short a time it would be for Jack to stop searching for them and move on with a shrug.
"Anyway," she said brightly, "one less thing to worry about when we leave." He thought he spied the crack in her armour then, a hurt look in her eyes that she covered with a smile, and that was also all Jack.
Two months.
***
Jack took a short break after the third time Hilda's wiring zapped the life from him. The first two times, he could credit to his own mistakes and hands made clumsy with anxiety he refused to admit. More than that, and it was obvious Hilda was holding a grudge because Alice was missing.
"Gonna hit the head," he told Jenny, who didn't respond. Fair enough. Jenny didn't like him, either, though in her case it was partly on Alice's behalf and partly because Jack himself was a walking toothache for Time Lords. When he'd found out that Gallifrey had appeared in the sky during his absence from Earth, Jack mused that the best way to fight the invading Gallifreyans would have been to launch himself at the planet and let them scream in pain at him for the rest of eternity behind the time lock.
He washed his hands when he was finished, taking in the feminine touches he spied around him. Alice wasn't given to expensive soaps and bottles of hair products despite his many attempts to teach her in her youth. Yet, there was something indefinably soft about the towels in the tiny shower cubicle, something gentle in the lingering scent of unnamed perfume that followed her (a gift he'd given her, however unintentionally, alongside the turn of her scowl and the twist of her mind). Bare of decoration save a sprig of some dried purple flower taped to the plain, age-spotted mirror, this room nonetheless spoke of women in a way the decadent lavatory he'd built in the big red house hadn't since Jeanne died.
A smile met him in the mirror. He hadn't thought about Jeanne in a while. She'd joined him in exile of her own choice, and they'd spent years together. He had mourned her when she'd passed, and made her grave in the shade of the trees she'd loved, and written down the details of their life together, and now he'd already started to forget.
*
"You're going to forget me someday."
"Never could."
*
But he had forgotten, hadn't he, had needed an unexpected run-in with Alice to remind him. His smile slipped, was gone.
Jack remembered his promise and forgot the details, and when Alice had given that back to him, he'd sworn never to forget again. That day he'd started planning the whole project of writing everything down, even if it took him a while to get started. The universe could get florid descriptions of Jack's raucous life, and Jack could flip open to page three thousand and seventeen and remind himself that Lucia had enjoyed grapes, and like that, he'd have her back in his mind. He could make himself remember, hold on to all the people he loved. It just took effort.
Time travel complicated things. Alice had said they would run into each other in several thousand years. But if she died on this mission, what would he do when he saw her again? How tempted would he be to muck with the threads of time just to keep her safe?
He no longer worried about losing Ianto. He'd never say that out loud because he didn't want to fight, and he didn't want to watch the shutters come down over a despairing look. That wasn't what he'd meant, he'd have to say, and he'd explain that having watched Ianto die twice, part of him would always assume he'd come back. Jack would go on, saddened and alone as he'd done before, and move on with his life and fall in love again and again, until Ianto was one of many pleasant memories. Then, one day, he'd turn a corner or open an airlock, and Ianto would be there in front of him, smiling in mild confusion, and Jack would be equally confused, but mostly, "Oh, there you are. Where've you been?" If this took ten million years, well, Jack had time to spare, and that'd be more for them to catch up on, just like when he ran into the Doctor, and Alice, and even John. It was hard to explain his assurance against all logic that every separation was merely temporary. Jack knew inside his bones that Ianto had joined the list of people he would never really lose ever again. Ianto would only get that look, the one that said, "Yes, I know you're one hundred times my age, and I love you, but you're a moron."
The smile came back in the mirror, as Jack pictured the quiet sigh and barely-held eyeroll. It'd be a shame to have to wait ten million years to see that again.
Time to get back to work.
***
Harry and Flora kept the calendar in their office. By general agreement, the colony chose to declare the day they arrived to be two days after they'd all died, and set the calendar accordingly. The solar year, Alice had learned, was somewhat shorter here, and Flora said they'd probably have to eliminate some days to catch up if they wanted to maintain an Earth calendar, but people would have to vote which days to lose. No-one wanted to lose birthdays or anniversaries, however fragile their memories might be. The matter was tabled for now and would be revisited in a few years when it became more obvious that the date on the paper and the seasons were no longer the same.
The second anniversary of their deaths came suddenly. One day, Alice was working as usual, the next there was a rest day, and all the faces around her were sombre, thoughtful.
"Today is for mourning," Flora said over a cup of tea. She watched Katie play with her blocks. "Tonight we'll gather around the bonfire, and talk about the people we miss. Tomorrow, we'll work. The next day, we'll celebrate. Harry came up with it. He says rituals help people cope."
"I'm surprised you don't have a church set up here already."
"If that's a project you'd like to pursue, please do. We could use some religion."
"What? No." She shivered. "I'd be a bad choice." She'd grown up learning her catechism, but had lost the last of her faith before she'd left Earth.
"You know how it is, Alice. Work is done by those who show up to do it." Flora made a bitter face over her tea. "That's why Harry and I are in charge. We were the only ones willing to organise everyone. I was actually programmed with the animal husbandry skill set. I should be milking cows."
"Cow!" said Katie.
"That's right, sweetheart. What does the cow say?"
"Moo!"
Flora smiled indulgently. Alice tried not to wince.
The fire that night chilled rather than cheered. Alice went with Flora and Katie, and she held Katie while Flora started the talking: these are the things I remember, these are the people I miss. While she spoke, an ember crackled from the fire and flew out, whizzing by Katie's head and making her cry.
"It's okay," Alice soothed. "Auntie Alice has you."
Flora let Harry speak next while she came back to collect her little girl. Harry missed his X-Box, and he missed oysters, and he'd like to think he'd miss his family, his eyes gone large with tears. Harry's wife Tanya missed fresh strawberries, and her mother. The litany went on, passed from person to person: Christmas crackers, parents, lovers, Graham Norton (that got a laugh), summers at the beach, children, chocolates, and so many things.
When it was Ianto's turn, he shook his head and indicated the next person. "It's all right," Harry coaxed. "It's newer for you, but it'll help."
"I … " Alice was sure he would say he missed Jack, but Ianto said, "I miss my sister. We weren't close at the end. I wish we were."
Harry nodded kindly. The next person, one of Ianto's roommates at the dormitory, missed his little brother.
Alice's turn came eventually. "I miss my son," she said. "His name was Steven." She stumbled over the words, realising she hadn't spoken his name aloud in years. "He was my world."
***
"Got it," Jenny said proudly. The ship hummed around them. John yawned. Chula tech was no patch on what would come along in another five thousand years, and here Jack and Jenny were patting each other on the back for repairing what amounted to a hole in a canoe.
John could think of much more pleasant ways to celebrate with the two of them, including activities that involved backs, but would they listen? No. Honestly the only thing keeping him from setting his VM and leaving their miserable arses was the fact that Jack hadn't paid him yet, and wouldn't until this sorry mess was over. While lingering with them (and maybe talking Jack into some fun after all) had its benefits, John decided he was set for rescuing the two lost lambs as long as it meant he got his money sooner rather than later.
With that in mind, he palmed the time circuit control before either of the others could reach him. "Where to?"
***
The Agency sent their people to assist the colonists on a bi-weekly basis. Supplies continued to come, therapies were available for the asking, notes were taken on the progress of their community and the growth of their nursery. Everything came with a bland smile dressed in primary colours.
So when the Agency missed a scheduled day, Alice found Flora pacing worriedly in her small office at the Town Hall long after everyone else had quit for the evening.
"It's time travel," said Alice reasonably. "It's not always easy to get things exactly right." They'd messed up arrivals plenty.
"But they're never late," said Flora. "The visits were pre-programmed into the system."
"I'm sure it's nothing." She convinced Flora to come to a late supper with her, and they chatted, and Alice walked with Flora to collect Katie from the nursery, and went home with them. Flora was starting to show now, and Alice traced the line on her belly with one fingertip, remembering when her own body had swelled like the sail of a ship.
The people from the Agency didn't come the next day, either, or the one after.
Harry and Flora held a town meeting. They didn't bullshit, they didn't claim that they were sure the Agency was coming. They took questions, and wrote down concerns. Malik (formerly of Information Technology and Services, now of Herbivore Domestication, Shearing, and Butchering) threw out Ianto's name as someone who'd been to the neighbouring colonies, and who might be able to see if they'd been visited.
Ianto, displeased at the sudden notoriety, agreed to head out in the morning to ask.
"Why aren't there any vehicles?" Alice asked Flora later that night as they lay together holding hands, the nightlight in the hallway casting a bright pattern on the adjacent wall.
"We're supposed to be self-sufficient. Strictly speaking, Ianto's breaking the rules when he goes to see the other colonies. The Agency had us spread out in case of disaster or disease. We've got maps telling us where they are, but really, we're on our own." She rolled over and rubbed Alice's arm with her hand, her belly falling oddly to the side. "There are ships," she said in a whisper. "Spaceships, you know. Far enough from any of the colonies that we wouldn't find them. When it's time for our great-grandchildren to leave the planet, the ships will have the instant skills training ready. But there's a time lock on the map to get us there."
"I've run into time locks before. Put it in a time machine, and voila."
Flora laughed. "Yes. Find a time machine and use it to open the lock." She bent in for a quick kiss. "You're funny."
Alice didn't meet her eyes after the kiss. Gary was easy to dismiss. Flora actually liked her. While Alice thought Flora was a lovely person, and she enjoyed their time together, she saw this as the emotional equivalent of huddling under a blanket together for warmth. She sighed. Her father made breaking hearts look easy.
The following afternoon, news spread through the colony like a fire. Alice heard it from Colin, who told everyone in their section of the fields: strangers approaching the village, three of them, dressed like Time Agents.
Her heart jumped. At last! They'd have to catch up Ianto at the next colony, but that'd be easy enough. She set down her tools, placing them carefully for the next person. Farming was no longer her concern. A quick glance showed her that cleanliness might be; she was a sight, covered in dirt. Jack wouldn't care, and frankly, she didn't give a damn what John thought, but Jenny deserved clean hands when Alice hugged her.
She ran to the pump and scrubbed down. Kris noticed and said, "What are you primping for?"
"No reason." Alice dried her hands on her trousers, then hurried to catch up with the rest of the interested onlookers. Everyone was bustling to get a look. She hoped the rest wouldn't be disappointed that this wouldn't be the Agency with supplies.
The strangers came into view. That wasn't her father, and the other two weren't Jenny and John. She sighed in disappointment. She almost missed the body language, how the one in the middle placed a hand casually on a weapon.
"Oh no."
The hand made a liquid motion, grabbed the gun and fired a deadly beam from the sonic blaster into the air menacingly. Someone screamed. No-one moved to fight or run, not yet, not frozen in fear. The two figures flanking the one in the centre had their own weapons out and at the ready.
"Just to make things clear. I'm in charge now," said Gerta.
***
Chapter Six
Author: nancybrown
Fandoms: Torchwood, Doctor Who
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Alice, Jenny, John Hart, OCs
Rating: R
Beta/Britpick: queenfanfiction, wynkat1313, temporal_witch, and fide_et_spe had a hand in fixing this. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Spoilers: up through CoE, one spoiler for "End of Time," one spoiler for Bay of the Dead
Warnings: character death, angst, child endangerment, mentions of sexual coercion, violence, timey-wimey temporal physics, and of course, Captain Bad Touch rides again
Words: 46,000 (6,200 this part)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
***
Chapter Five
***
"I'd like to be able to say that it amazes me how much time humans in particular spend on convincing other people to have sex with them. Unfortunately, I'm usually naked by that point and then there's not much opportunity for talk. [So your running commentaries during sex don't qualify as talking?]" - from "Me: An Autobiography"
***
Alice's bath only lasted an hour. The water got cold, and she didn't have a book. When she emerged from the tub with her towel, she found Flora in the sitting room playing with her daughter Katie. The stab went through her and out again, and Alice managed a smile. She hated the Time Agency, hated the 456 and everyone involved in the clusterfuck surrounding them. But here was a little girl who never would have been born back on Earth. The part of Alice that fought against the random cruelty of the universe insisted that had to mean something. The rest of her wondered how many children were never born because their would-be parents had choked and died that day.
After she dressed, Alice sat on the sofa watching them. "I've imposed on your hospitality enough. I should go live in the dormitory."
"It's been no trouble," said Flora. "I like having another adult around. I've missed that." Katie's father, Alice had been told, had also donated a sample for Flora to conceive her second child. Everything was recorded in a database the Agency had helped them construct. In the next generation, they would be expected to intermarry with the neighbouring colonies. By the time the planet's automatic contact system was activated, they should have a healthy, thriving, and genetically-diverse population ready to meet up with the last survivors of the human race in the wider galaxy. In the long term, it meant genetic continuity, but in the short term, while people were encouraged to breed, not all would find a suitable partner for a relationship.
"How is the dating scene here?" Alice asked.
"If you're straight and not picky, it's robust. A lot of people aren't looking for long term, and thanks to the shots, there aren't any STIs to worry about. Colin had HIV and even he's fine." She gave Alice a more measured look. "Are you straight or picky?"
"Looking at my exes, I think I was less picky than I gave myself credit for." Sometimes she wondered what Joe would make of her new life. He'd come to the funeral, and she hadn't had tears to spare to scream at him.
Flora still watched her. When Alice didn't say more, she said, "There's not much of a gay community. A few of the younger girls say they're bi, but most of them are out with the boys. Sahira's bi, but she said if she was going to have kids with someone, she wanted to be in a relationship with him, so she and Steve got married."
"What about the guys?"
"Vijay and Nico got married. I think Forrest and Kris are seeing each other. If there's anyone else, they haven't come out."
Alice snorted. She placed even odds that five hours after her father finally arrived here, a good third of the men would suddenly decide they weren't as straight as previously claimed. It had happened once at a party she'd thrown when Mum had been out of town. There hadn't been enough alcohol in the house to drown out the image of her father snogging a boy in his last year that she'd had a crush on since Form One. She sighed.
"I like you. I'm not going to tell you I'm straight, but I'm not planning on getting involved with anyone."
"Because you're going to leave?"
Alice kept her voice calm. "What makes you say that?"
"We all had the same thought. Those of us who could remember. It'll pass." She tickled her daughter on the arm. "Give yourself time."
But Alice had time, all the time in the universe. Jenny had given it to her.
***
Supper was outdoors in the fine evening air. A bonfire burned pleasantly, chasing away the bugs, and they all ate cold leftovers from the previous day piled onto sandwiches. Ianto was put in mind of any number of community picnics, and he breathed in the fresh air tanged with good smoke as he ate voraciously. He'd walked to the next colony, just to see, and he knew he'd be feeling it tomorrow, but for now he was satisfied. He didn't speak the main languages used at the other colony, but two people spoke English and told him their home had been threatened by a giant wave. The Time Agency had pulled them all to safety: parents, children, elderly, everyone. Their lives continued on this new world, five hundred people saved from the waters.
He wondered if there was a planet for the victims of the Titanic.
Ianto took a long drink of water. The one thing this planet could use more of was fresh water. The colony had a series of wells that provided enough, but his walk had been through thin, brown grasses sapped of moisture by the summer sun, and he'd drunk his whole water supply by the time he'd reached the next colony and had to ask for more to come home. The big red house where he'd lived with Jack had a river close by, which Ianto would often sit beside for hours, just listening, and now even that was gone. He missed the sea.
After the food, there were games, which he declined to play, and alcohol, which some colonists had been brewing from their grain. Bottles passed from hand to hand, and he took a grateful swig when it was his turn, mindless of the sour burn. Jack didn't drink except on very special occasions so Ianto hadn't touched rotgut in years.
He passed the bottle to a pretty girl with red hair. "You're the new guy," she said, taking a drink of her own.
"Ianto."
"Laurie."
"It's nice to meet you, Laurie."
She giggled. "So where did you come from?"
"The Time Agency brought me here. Wiped my memories," he said quickly, hoping to forestall any additional questions.
She nodded sympathetically. "They took two months from me. I wish I knew why."
"Who can say?"
"What did you do back on Earth? Before they wiped you."
"Oh." His old life flashed before him. "Nothing really interesting. Admin work."
"You were an admin?" Disbelief filled her round face.
"Fastest filer in all of Cardiff."
"I'd have figured you were one of the higher ups. Or maybe a scientist. They said we had a few of those running around in the building."
"Nah," he said. "Well, they did wipe me. For all I know, I was the Prime Minister."
She laughed. "Couldn't be. All the PMs have been gits. You seem nice."
He thought back. Green had been willing to hand over the world's children to save his arse. Saxon was a maniacal alien bent on world destruction who killed Ianto and his friends and at least a tenth of the Earth's population. "I liked Harriet Jones." He often wished his own official death had been even a fraction as purposeful as hers had been.
"She was okay." Laurie didn't appear to be really interested in politics. "Where do they have you working?"
"In the fields. It's very strange, knowing things about beans."
She laughed. "I'm in construction. We put up and maintain the buildings. You got a place to live yet?"
"I'm staying with Harry's family."
"Well, I'm sure you're on the list for housing. We're going through it pretty fast. You know you get a higher priority if you're married."
He wasn't sure if that was a proposition or just small talk. He decided he didn't want to find out. The tiny Jack Harkness who lived inside his brain kicked him as he said, "I'm attached."
"Already?"
"From before."
"Oh. Those don't count. You'll see. Everything's new here. It's a second chance."
Yes, he thought, but one that they didn't necessarily need to have. He looked around the fire, saw faces, none familiar. How many of them would recognise him if he said he was from Torchwood? How many would want his head in retribution for the lives they'd lost?
There was a thump beside him. "Alice."
"Ianto." She looked over at Laurie. "Who's this, then?"
"This is Laurie. Laurie, this is Alice."
"Hi," said Laurie, her perky smile fleeing in the presence of the other woman.
"Charmed," Alice said, in a tone that said she wasn't.
"You two arrived together, then?" Laurie asked.
"Oh yes," said Alice. "We go way back. He shagged my father for years."
Laurie's eyes went wide. She turned to Ianto, who merely shrugged. Alice had apparently learned her tact right at home.
"Sorry. You could have said." And a moment later, she was gone.
Ianto watched her leave. "That could definitely have been phrased more derogatively. Thank you."
"She was hitting on you."
"I'd noticed."
"And she's about half your age." He'd noticed that too, but he'd ignored it. "And you're gay."
"I'm not gay."
"Are you about to quote you know who about labels?"
"Depends. Is that on the 'smacking' list?"
She glared at him. He glared back. The bottle came round again, and he watched her take a long drink before she passed it. Fastidiously, he wiped the mouth.
"So how did you meet my father?" she asked, faked interest laced with heavy sarcasm.
"Oh, the usual story. I stalked him to get hired on so I could install my half-converted Cyberman girlfriend in the cellar and find her a cure. Jack found out and tried to feed her to the pet pterodactyl I gave him. When she transplanted her brain into a pizza girl, Jack and the rest of the team shot her." Alice stared at him, jaw agape. "And after that, well, I was single again, and he wasn't busy. So." He took a long drink. Then he passed the bottle.
"You've had a three thousand year long relationship with your rebound shag?"
"Five thousand. He did that bit underground."
"I remember." The mild horror on her face hadn't faded. "You're completely mad, you know."
"In fact, I have. Had. A piece of paper from Providence Park to assert that I'm not." He wondered if Rhi was given that amongst the rest of his belongings. Gwen had always been horrified about the Torchwood policy regarding employees and their possessions, he recalled. "Our colleagues really never got us. He took care of me when most people would have written me off, and when I got back on my feet, I made it my job to take care of him." One of the things they had in common: caring for someone else reminded each how to be human. Although Ianto had never wanted children of his own, there were times he'd considered the prospect solely for Jack's benefit. They could take advantage of fifty-first century medical technology now so that when Ianto was dead and gone, Jack would still have someone else to look after and love. On a more selfish note, giving Jack a child would also guarantee Ianto would be remembered just a little longer.
He glanced at Alice again and reminded himself that merely having a child was no guarantee that Jack wouldn't screw up somehow. He sighed.
"What about you and Jenny? How'd you meet?"
Alice played with a spot on the knee of her trousers. "She saved me."
"Aliens?"
"Suicide."
"Ah." He was in no place to judge. There was a reason he'd had his paper.
***
The dormitory was a friendly enough place. While the construction crews worked on individual houses, most based on a very simple ranch-style model, the colonists who weren't married and either hadn't had children or weren't interested in raising the ones they'd helped create could live together in a reasonably managed group. Alice shared a large room with three other women, with her own bed. After a week on the sofa, it felt like a luxury. She had only wakened once to the muffled sounds of one of her roommates rutting with a man she didn't know, but most of the time, people aimed for privacy when they had sex.
Alice missed sex. She'd slept with a few of the men she and Jenny had encountered in their travels, the most infamous one being her father's ex-lover. She hadn't slept with Jenny, though not for lack of thinking about it. Three planets ago, Alice had shagged a gorgeous blonde in the midst of saving her village from robotic pirates, and it had nothing to do with the woman herself. But when it came to her best friend, Alice worried about changing the dynamic they'd spent so long building. Back in her youth, she'd ruined any number of friendships by introducing sex to the equation, and she didn't intend to make that mistake with Jenny. If she ever saw Jenny again.
On a rest day, Alice sat alone at lunch, wondering if Ianto had wandered off to the next colony. A man she vaguely recognised sat down next to her.
"Hi," he said.
"Hello." She continued to eat.
"I'm Gary."
"Alice."
"I know." He grinned. "I've seen you around. You're usually with your friend."
"He's off somewhere today," she said, absently. "Do you need something?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a picnic with me later. Get away from here for a bit." She stared at him, finally. Gary was good-looking, in a tattered sort of way, like he had heard of how to fix his hair and wear his stock Agency-issue clothing (they were going to start a proper textiles industry next year after the construction phase ended) but hadn't really paid attention past the basics. He resembled a scarecrow, even to the straw-coloured hair sticking up from his head.
"That'd be … Sure." Why not? She didn't intend to get involved with him, but it wouldn't hurt to have some fun. And, she thought with more fear than she wanted to admit, they'd been here a month now with no word from the others.
Five hours later, the picnic basket was abandoned and they were half-naked on the blanket she'd brought. Kissing was good, sex was better, but Alice had no intention of getting pregnant. On a colony world with no birth control options available, she refused to deal with penetration and the risks involved.
"You sure?" he said into her ear, his hands doing wonderful things inside her knickers.
"Positive." His fingers worked inside of her obligingly. Her owns hands grasped his hips, bumping against them as he brought her off. She took him into her mouth after, a simple suck for a simple night together. Smooth and easy. And there was one itch scratched.
They walked back together, attempting to hold hands but the picnic basket was too unwieldy. "I worked in maintenance," he said. "I was down in the boiler room when the alarm went off. I never even made it up to the first floor. I thought there'd been a fire, or a bomb, or something."
"The newspapers said it was bioterrorism. They didn't say the aliens did it, but I guess they didn't lie."
"You died after that."
"I died the following day." He took her hand again, and somehow managed the basket with the other this time.
"Can I see you again?"
She tilted her head. "Ask me next week. I'll probably say yes."
***
Hart had gone to his cabin for a lie-down (he'd claimed). Jenny didn't care if he was sleeping, humping the bunk, or plotting their deaths, as long as he was out from underfoot. She wasn't happy with Jack's help on Hilda's poor fried systems, and calculated a 78% chance that he'd electrocute himself again before they were finished.
"The good news," he said from the corner, elbows-deep in wiring, "is that I don't think we'll need any extra parts." He extracted his hands and wiped them on his trousers.
"How long did you have your Chula ship?"
"A little over a year, by my reckoning. She needed a lot of work when I first got her, so I had a crash course in maintenance." Knowing Jack's history, there was a 34% chance that he had stolen the ship, and a 46% chance he'd purchased it in a shady transaction. She considered the chances that he either found it abandoned or bought it fairly to be possible but equally unlikely.
"I've had this ship for approximately ten standard years. The AI came online about three years ago while we were repairing the computers."
"Oh," said Jack, rubbing a gentle hand over one support strut. "She's just a baby, then."
"I am not a baby," said Hilda.
"Of course you're not, dear," Jenny said. The time circuit was almost fixed, but the engines still needed work. If they were to go back to the Agency again to find the data they required, Hilda must be ready to run.
Jenny told herself that they were in a time machine, that honestly, Alice could not be in any danger because they could arrange to arrive minutes after she materialised at the Thames House colony. Still she worried. Alice was good at getting herself out of trouble, but Jenny only knew this because of Alice's penchant for finding it in the first place. And she had to look after Ianto while she did it, because if Alice's tales and Jenny's observations were accurate, anyone dim enough to be involved with Jack on a long-term basis probably didn't have the self-preservation skills necessary to work Velcro shoe closures. Given the data available, she estimated an 84% probability that at least one of them would be incarcerated by the time Hilda arrived in orbit.
Jack kept his eyes on the work before him. In a tone that he probably intended as casual, he asked, "So how's she doing?"
"Hilda will be fixed soon."
"Alice. How's she … How long has it been?"
Oh. This was going to be one of those conversations. With Alice, Jenny found reserves of patience. With the abomination, much less so. "Not quite ten Earth years." She spared a glance to him, watched his big fingers poke uselessly for a moment at the wires. "She's coping."
"I won't ask if she still hates me."
"Good." Jenny continued working, could not help but notice he'd stopped. "If you want to know how she is, ask her."
"We're not good at talking to each other."
"You've got thousands of years to learn."
He smiled weakly. "Do you talk much to your father?"
Her hearts skipped, as they often did when she thought about him. He hadn't abandoned her intentionally, which was more than she could say for many of his companions over the years. Still, his absence hurt sometimes, in the calm times between adventures. "We've only run into each other three times since I was born."
"Oh." His hands restarted their work. "I figured he was the one who sent you to find Alice. That's his kind of thing to do."
She shook her head. "I was thinking about finding someone to bring along, when I found a note addressed to me telling me where and when to find her."
He nodded. "Notes from yourself from the future. I've done that. Back in the Agency, we had guidelines on how to word it, codes to make sure you knew it was yourself. I always used my brother's birthday."
"It wasn't from me."
"Then who?"
"I'm not sure." She'd known it was important, known as soon as she read the brief words that Alice was exactly the right person to travel with her. "Alice didn't recognise the handwriting."
"You still have it?"
She wanted to stay and keep working, but she also knew he'd wheedle and prod until she gave up in frustration and went to retrieve the much-folded and perused sheet from her cabin anyway. When she returned and handed it to him, she was unsurprised to see the smile spread across his face.
Jenny sighed. "Have you sent it yet?"
"Not yet. Tell me again where and when you found it."
***
The hours in the field, while hard, were putting a defining cut on his muscles as well as tanning him gently. (One of the inoculations was permanent SPF protection, his roommate Malik had explained.) The food was plain but nutritious and filling. Although he was nearing fifty, Ianto mused that he hadn't been in this good a shape in his youth, which had been filled with bad food, little sleep, and rare exercise. Blame the Time Agency all he wanted, but their diet programme would put the Atkins cultists he'd known back home to shame.
He'd received permission to take an extra day off to go to the next colony past the tsunami survivors. There he'd met a colony drawn together from three aeroplane crashes. One crash happened four years after his death, and he'd lingered, listening to news of things from long ago. Their colony was more divided than the other two he knew; passengers hailed from different years and different countries, and viewed one another with suspicion still.
Should it look like he and Alice were stranded here for good, he decided he'd move to the aeroplane colony. Alice could stay or go as she pleased. He'd originally thought to stay close in order to protect her, but the colonies were free of crime, disease, and war. There was nothing to protect her from, save her own mistakes, and she was an adult.
Ianto did not like Gary much, if anyone asked him. No-one ever did.
"You know we've been here two months," Alice said to him one evening at the weekly bonfire. "Sixty one days."
"That can't be right." But of course it was. He'd helped with the first harvest of the season already. Three more babies had been born and he thanked God they hadn't given him the midwifery implant; delivering one baby had been more than enough for his tastes. Time was passing.
"What if they can't find us?" Her eyes were big and worried.
"They'll find us." Aiming for a safer topic, if not by much, he asked, "How's Gary?"
She waved her hand. "Who knows? He's taken up with that Laurie."
"I'm sorry. I thought you two were together."
"It was just a bit of fun," she said airily. "Not my problem if she wants him to be exclusive."
That sounded familiar: enjoy the amusement while it lasts, don't mope when it's gone. But telling Alice she sounded exactly like Jack was certainly at the top of the smacking list, so instead he just nodded quietly and tried not to wonder how short a time it would be for Jack to stop searching for them and move on with a shrug.
"Anyway," she said brightly, "one less thing to worry about when we leave." He thought he spied the crack in her armour then, a hurt look in her eyes that she covered with a smile, and that was also all Jack.
Two months.
***
Jack took a short break after the third time Hilda's wiring zapped the life from him. The first two times, he could credit to his own mistakes and hands made clumsy with anxiety he refused to admit. More than that, and it was obvious Hilda was holding a grudge because Alice was missing.
"Gonna hit the head," he told Jenny, who didn't respond. Fair enough. Jenny didn't like him, either, though in her case it was partly on Alice's behalf and partly because Jack himself was a walking toothache for Time Lords. When he'd found out that Gallifrey had appeared in the sky during his absence from Earth, Jack mused that the best way to fight the invading Gallifreyans would have been to launch himself at the planet and let them scream in pain at him for the rest of eternity behind the time lock.
He washed his hands when he was finished, taking in the feminine touches he spied around him. Alice wasn't given to expensive soaps and bottles of hair products despite his many attempts to teach her in her youth. Yet, there was something indefinably soft about the towels in the tiny shower cubicle, something gentle in the lingering scent of unnamed perfume that followed her (a gift he'd given her, however unintentionally, alongside the turn of her scowl and the twist of her mind). Bare of decoration save a sprig of some dried purple flower taped to the plain, age-spotted mirror, this room nonetheless spoke of women in a way the decadent lavatory he'd built in the big red house hadn't since Jeanne died.
A smile met him in the mirror. He hadn't thought about Jeanne in a while. She'd joined him in exile of her own choice, and they'd spent years together. He had mourned her when she'd passed, and made her grave in the shade of the trees she'd loved, and written down the details of their life together, and now he'd already started to forget.
*
"You're going to forget me someday."
"Never could."
*
But he had forgotten, hadn't he, had needed an unexpected run-in with Alice to remind him. His smile slipped, was gone.
Jack remembered his promise and forgot the details, and when Alice had given that back to him, he'd sworn never to forget again. That day he'd started planning the whole project of writing everything down, even if it took him a while to get started. The universe could get florid descriptions of Jack's raucous life, and Jack could flip open to page three thousand and seventeen and remind himself that Lucia had enjoyed grapes, and like that, he'd have her back in his mind. He could make himself remember, hold on to all the people he loved. It just took effort.
Time travel complicated things. Alice had said they would run into each other in several thousand years. But if she died on this mission, what would he do when he saw her again? How tempted would he be to muck with the threads of time just to keep her safe?
He no longer worried about losing Ianto. He'd never say that out loud because he didn't want to fight, and he didn't want to watch the shutters come down over a despairing look. That wasn't what he'd meant, he'd have to say, and he'd explain that having watched Ianto die twice, part of him would always assume he'd come back. Jack would go on, saddened and alone as he'd done before, and move on with his life and fall in love again and again, until Ianto was one of many pleasant memories. Then, one day, he'd turn a corner or open an airlock, and Ianto would be there in front of him, smiling in mild confusion, and Jack would be equally confused, but mostly, "Oh, there you are. Where've you been?" If this took ten million years, well, Jack had time to spare, and that'd be more for them to catch up on, just like when he ran into the Doctor, and Alice, and even John. It was hard to explain his assurance against all logic that every separation was merely temporary. Jack knew inside his bones that Ianto had joined the list of people he would never really lose ever again. Ianto would only get that look, the one that said, "Yes, I know you're one hundred times my age, and I love you, but you're a moron."
The smile came back in the mirror, as Jack pictured the quiet sigh and barely-held eyeroll. It'd be a shame to have to wait ten million years to see that again.
Time to get back to work.
***
Harry and Flora kept the calendar in their office. By general agreement, the colony chose to declare the day they arrived to be two days after they'd all died, and set the calendar accordingly. The solar year, Alice had learned, was somewhat shorter here, and Flora said they'd probably have to eliminate some days to catch up if they wanted to maintain an Earth calendar, but people would have to vote which days to lose. No-one wanted to lose birthdays or anniversaries, however fragile their memories might be. The matter was tabled for now and would be revisited in a few years when it became more obvious that the date on the paper and the seasons were no longer the same.
The second anniversary of their deaths came suddenly. One day, Alice was working as usual, the next there was a rest day, and all the faces around her were sombre, thoughtful.
"Today is for mourning," Flora said over a cup of tea. She watched Katie play with her blocks. "Tonight we'll gather around the bonfire, and talk about the people we miss. Tomorrow, we'll work. The next day, we'll celebrate. Harry came up with it. He says rituals help people cope."
"I'm surprised you don't have a church set up here already."
"If that's a project you'd like to pursue, please do. We could use some religion."
"What? No." She shivered. "I'd be a bad choice." She'd grown up learning her catechism, but had lost the last of her faith before she'd left Earth.
"You know how it is, Alice. Work is done by those who show up to do it." Flora made a bitter face over her tea. "That's why Harry and I are in charge. We were the only ones willing to organise everyone. I was actually programmed with the animal husbandry skill set. I should be milking cows."
"Cow!" said Katie.
"That's right, sweetheart. What does the cow say?"
"Moo!"
Flora smiled indulgently. Alice tried not to wince.
The fire that night chilled rather than cheered. Alice went with Flora and Katie, and she held Katie while Flora started the talking: these are the things I remember, these are the people I miss. While she spoke, an ember crackled from the fire and flew out, whizzing by Katie's head and making her cry.
"It's okay," Alice soothed. "Auntie Alice has you."
Flora let Harry speak next while she came back to collect her little girl. Harry missed his X-Box, and he missed oysters, and he'd like to think he'd miss his family, his eyes gone large with tears. Harry's wife Tanya missed fresh strawberries, and her mother. The litany went on, passed from person to person: Christmas crackers, parents, lovers, Graham Norton (that got a laugh), summers at the beach, children, chocolates, and so many things.
When it was Ianto's turn, he shook his head and indicated the next person. "It's all right," Harry coaxed. "It's newer for you, but it'll help."
"I … " Alice was sure he would say he missed Jack, but Ianto said, "I miss my sister. We weren't close at the end. I wish we were."
Harry nodded kindly. The next person, one of Ianto's roommates at the dormitory, missed his little brother.
Alice's turn came eventually. "I miss my son," she said. "His name was Steven." She stumbled over the words, realising she hadn't spoken his name aloud in years. "He was my world."
***
"Got it," Jenny said proudly. The ship hummed around them. John yawned. Chula tech was no patch on what would come along in another five thousand years, and here Jack and Jenny were patting each other on the back for repairing what amounted to a hole in a canoe.
John could think of much more pleasant ways to celebrate with the two of them, including activities that involved backs, but would they listen? No. Honestly the only thing keeping him from setting his VM and leaving their miserable arses was the fact that Jack hadn't paid him yet, and wouldn't until this sorry mess was over. While lingering with them (and maybe talking Jack into some fun after all) had its benefits, John decided he was set for rescuing the two lost lambs as long as it meant he got his money sooner rather than later.
With that in mind, he palmed the time circuit control before either of the others could reach him. "Where to?"
***
The Agency sent their people to assist the colonists on a bi-weekly basis. Supplies continued to come, therapies were available for the asking, notes were taken on the progress of their community and the growth of their nursery. Everything came with a bland smile dressed in primary colours.
So when the Agency missed a scheduled day, Alice found Flora pacing worriedly in her small office at the Town Hall long after everyone else had quit for the evening.
"It's time travel," said Alice reasonably. "It's not always easy to get things exactly right." They'd messed up arrivals plenty.
"But they're never late," said Flora. "The visits were pre-programmed into the system."
"I'm sure it's nothing." She convinced Flora to come to a late supper with her, and they chatted, and Alice walked with Flora to collect Katie from the nursery, and went home with them. Flora was starting to show now, and Alice traced the line on her belly with one fingertip, remembering when her own body had swelled like the sail of a ship.
The people from the Agency didn't come the next day, either, or the one after.
Harry and Flora held a town meeting. They didn't bullshit, they didn't claim that they were sure the Agency was coming. They took questions, and wrote down concerns. Malik (formerly of Information Technology and Services, now of Herbivore Domestication, Shearing, and Butchering) threw out Ianto's name as someone who'd been to the neighbouring colonies, and who might be able to see if they'd been visited.
Ianto, displeased at the sudden notoriety, agreed to head out in the morning to ask.
"Why aren't there any vehicles?" Alice asked Flora later that night as they lay together holding hands, the nightlight in the hallway casting a bright pattern on the adjacent wall.
"We're supposed to be self-sufficient. Strictly speaking, Ianto's breaking the rules when he goes to see the other colonies. The Agency had us spread out in case of disaster or disease. We've got maps telling us where they are, but really, we're on our own." She rolled over and rubbed Alice's arm with her hand, her belly falling oddly to the side. "There are ships," she said in a whisper. "Spaceships, you know. Far enough from any of the colonies that we wouldn't find them. When it's time for our great-grandchildren to leave the planet, the ships will have the instant skills training ready. But there's a time lock on the map to get us there."
"I've run into time locks before. Put it in a time machine, and voila."
Flora laughed. "Yes. Find a time machine and use it to open the lock." She bent in for a quick kiss. "You're funny."
Alice didn't meet her eyes after the kiss. Gary was easy to dismiss. Flora actually liked her. While Alice thought Flora was a lovely person, and she enjoyed their time together, she saw this as the emotional equivalent of huddling under a blanket together for warmth. She sighed. Her father made breaking hearts look easy.
The following afternoon, news spread through the colony like a fire. Alice heard it from Colin, who told everyone in their section of the fields: strangers approaching the village, three of them, dressed like Time Agents.
Her heart jumped. At last! They'd have to catch up Ianto at the next colony, but that'd be easy enough. She set down her tools, placing them carefully for the next person. Farming was no longer her concern. A quick glance showed her that cleanliness might be; she was a sight, covered in dirt. Jack wouldn't care, and frankly, she didn't give a damn what John thought, but Jenny deserved clean hands when Alice hugged her.
She ran to the pump and scrubbed down. Kris noticed and said, "What are you primping for?"
"No reason." Alice dried her hands on her trousers, then hurried to catch up with the rest of the interested onlookers. Everyone was bustling to get a look. She hoped the rest wouldn't be disappointed that this wouldn't be the Agency with supplies.
The strangers came into view. That wasn't her father, and the other two weren't Jenny and John. She sighed in disappointment. She almost missed the body language, how the one in the middle placed a hand casually on a weapon.
"Oh no."
The hand made a liquid motion, grabbed the gun and fired a deadly beam from the sonic blaster into the air menacingly. Someone screamed. No-one moved to fight or run, not yet, not frozen in fear. The two figures flanking the one in the centre had their own weapons out and at the ready.
"Just to make things clear. I'm in charge now," said Gerta.
***
Chapter Six