Into Gethsemane (5/11)
Title: Into Gethsemane (5/11)
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Lois, Johnson, Rupesh, Martha, Mickey, Tish, Rhys, John, Alice, Steven, OCs, many cameos
Pairings: mostly canon
Rating: R
Warnings: AUTHOR CHOOSES NOT TO WARN (but will answer PMs for any content questions)
Spoilers: up through COE
Words: 60,000 (6,500 this part)
Betas: eldarwannabe and fide_et_spe both performed major heavy lifting on this story, and have my deepest thanks for their efforts
Summary: A secret movement within the government successfully placed Lois Habiba as a spy inside Torchwood, and the trap is ready to be sprung. Meanwhile, Jack has received worrisome news, leading Gwen and Ianto from one danger into another. Loves, loyalties, and everyone's lives are on the line as the force behind the conspiracy finally comes to light.
A/N: Final fic in a fake third series where Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh have joined the team. Can be read as a stand-alone but will make more sense in context of the other stories.
Master Post
Chapter Four
***
Chapter Five
***
The van was trapped, lorries to one side, police cars pulling up to the other. Ianto's head was swimming from the poison in the coffee. He didn't have long. He revved the engine, hoping to distract his pursuers, hoping Gwen would get free, go for help, find Jack.
His hands were so tired. Everything was hazy. His body didn't want to respond, and panic closed his throat. There was a sudden flash, and in the passenger seat to his left, he saw the outline of two forms before he passed out.
"Good morning, Eye Candy."
He wasn't in the van, nor could he identify his surroundings. John Hart crouched over him like a scraggly raven, ready to pluck out his eyes or his heart. Ianto drew back, feeling another wave of revulsion at the glimmer in Hart's eyes as he noted Ianto's obvious fear.
His hands were bound behind him, and his arms hurt. His clothes were still in place, a small mercy but not one he held out hope on in the long term. It had been such a nice frying pan, he thought bitterly.
His mouth was dry, and he couldn't make the words come out at first. Ianto wet his lips and tried again. "As trite as this sounds, where are we?"
John, thankfully, leaned back. "Far enough away. Did you know you're dead?"
"I'm not." He was breathing and sore.
"According to the official records you are. As luck would have it, I was planning to visit a certain Captain of your acquaintance, and I checked the news first. Told me you fried like a fish. I had an extra body I wasn't doing anything with, so I dropped him off, plucked you, and now we're here." He grin came closer. "Just you and I, Eye Candy."
"You had a spare body? Whose?"
Hart shrugged. "I didn't ask his name. He owed me money. Dead is dead, might as well use a corpse and save a body." His right hand stroked Ianto's arm through his sleeve. Ianto hid his shudder poorly, as Hart said, "I like using bodies, too."
"I was poisoned."
Hart shrugged. "You looked peaky. I gave you a nice shot of fix-em-up meds."
"What?"
There was a roll of eyes and a sigh that said Hart wasn't going to bother explaining to the stupid caveman.
"Jack will come looking for me." It was meant in threat and came out half-choked. He regretted the words instantly. That would be the plan. Whatever else Hart had in mind for him to pass the time, Ianto was bait.
"Guess again. You're dead. I told you. Right now, they're delivering the news to your blubbering relatives if you have any. I'm sure Jack will take it stoically," he said with a mocking expression of seriousness, "then bugger off to drown his sorrows in the first hole he can find that wriggles."
"Fuck you."
"Soon enough. First, now that you're awake, I need to decide where we're off to."
It was pointless to say he wouldn't go anywhere with the madman. Instead he lay as still as he could and started working on his bonds. The ropes had a bit of give. He focused on freeing himself.
Now that his vision had cleared, Ianto assessed his surroundings. They were in a house or a flat, matted burgundy carpet, panelled walls, no windows, one doorway that opened onto a room he couldn't see from this position. Everything smelled of stale patchouli and cheap fried food left to rot in an unseen corner, a gagging stench. From outside he heard the sounds of traffic, and hoped that meant they were still on Earth. If Hart had abducted him to another world or time, Ianto would never get home.
Hart's left hand stroked Ianto's chin. The other moved down to his hip, and squeezed roughly. "I can pick up some quick cash by selling you on Occimo Prime. There's a bloke I know who owns one of the classy whore pits, I could name my price for a tight piece of arse trained up by an expert." The hand at his hip moved. Ianto made himself go perfectly still. "Of course, that means no sampling you myself, not and get full price." He leaned intimately close, mouth puffing foul breaths into Ianto's face. "They do insist on their programme. The low-rent whore pits won't care as much what condition you're in."
"Jack will kill you."
"He has to find out about it first, and he won't, because he thinks you're dead." Hart's lips ghosted over Ianto's cheek. "I could take you with me. You're not completely incapable in a fight. It's been a while since I had a partner to work with. But since I know you'll say no," he drew back, "I'll just have to keep you here, enjoy myself, and ransom you off to Gorgeous when I've had my fun. Even used, he'll give me what I want for you."
John's hand slipped under Ianto's waistband, and he chuckled in response to Ianto's terrified shudder.
His legs were aching but free. He could get in one good kick, and if he was lucky, John would beat him unconscious in retaliation. Or shoot him. Just because Ianto couldn't see a weapon didn't mean John was unarmed. Be raped or be killed, and Ianto wasn't the one who got to decide.
"You want money."
John's hand was warm, his calluses rough. "Doesn't everyone?"
"You want to ransom me or sell me. You wanted the Arcadian diamond to sell it. You're broke." He tried not to gasp out the words, tried hard to stay calm. "You need money now."
"I need a lot of things now." He stopped fondling, and his hand dug lower.
"I'll pay you. Fifty thousand pounds in your pocket."
John laughed in a low voice. "You think your money is good anywhere else in the galaxy? I see why he likes it here. You people are so stupidly funny."
"You can buy things that are valuable. Gold. Minerals. Something portable. Not my problem. Fifty thousand pounds, on the table now."
John pulled his hand free. Ianto bit back his cry of relief. "You don't have that kind of money."
"Jack does, and I have access to all his accounts." To buy groceries. Jack had been surprised by the Christmas shopping. He might very well hit the roof when he found out about this, but Ianto was desperate. "Your call."
"When can you have the money?"
"By the end of the day, if I can get to the bank." John reached behind him, and Ianto tensed, but it was only to free his hands. Ianto rubbed his sore wrists. "Are we still on Earth?"
"Still on Earth, still in your time."
"If you have a computer, I can start the transfer."
***
They'd been brought food, a meat stew Gwen chose not to scrutinise too closely and a slice of bread. Martha looked faint but washed down small bites with great gulps of water. "Alright, Martha?" Gwen asked her between unsavoury bites of her own.
"Should do. I am craving fish like you wouldn't believe right now."
Gwen stirred the food in the bowl. "It might be fish."
Martha looked even fainter.
"Sorry."
Gwen cast a glance at the closed door. The men had also been fed, but she hadn't heard them talking. She desperately wanted to be in the room with Jack, to let him know she was there for him, but across the hall was miles away, and he was shut like a clam.
She heard a noise from a cell down the corridor, and a voice. Terrible stew forgotten, she stood up and went to the door. "Johnson?"
There was a long silence. "Here."
Rage bloomed in her gut. "Let us out of here. How dare you put us away like this."
Gwen heard another noise, one she couldn't place. Was Johnson laughing? "If I could right now, I would. I'm in the next cell."
Martha frowned. Jack and Perry had caught her up on their capture, and Martha had filled Gwen in. Why was Johnson with them? "You were helping them."
"It doesn't matter now."
Gwen said, "You got Ianto killed. The three of you." Fire burned in her recollections, orange and black.
Johnson's breath caught. "He's only the first. None of us are walking out of here. I tried to get Alice and her son out of harm's way."
"You what?" It was the first Jack had spoken. Gwen shut her eyes.
"They weren't involved in the prison break. I suspected they would be brought in. I gave her false ID and told her to run. When she was picked up, she thought I'd turned her in. I don't know where they've been taken."
Perry said, "Johnson, you're terrible at faking IDs. You never do the groundwork."
Johnson said, "Captain, the man behind our mission will use them against you. I advise you to cooperate with whatever he asks, for the safety of your family and the people with you."
Jack said nothing.
***
Tish heard the rustle of the undergrowth behind her and spun. Mickey already had his tyre iron at the ready. They hadn't been startled by a soldier, though, but a stout bloke in civilian clothes. His hand was in his jacket pocket. The bulge in his pocket could be a gun or it could be his finger pretending to be a gun.
"Back away slowly," said the man. He gestured with his possibly-finger-possibly-gun. "Put that down."
Mickey put on an annoyed face. "Yeah, no. I don't think you've got a gun, mate. Show me your hands."
From beyond their vantage point, Tish heard the continued movement of the guards. They were going to attract attention any minute.
She said, "If you're with the base, you're going to get us inside." The confusion on his face told her what she needed. "But you're not, are you?"
"I thought you were."
Mickey lowered his grip on the tyre iron. "Which would explain why we're hiding out here. No points."
"Sorry. I'm new to this whole life."
His voice, the mild but constant note of complaint, registered with a memory. "Do I know you?" she asked him.
"Dunno." He looked around, suddenly aware of how close they were to the perimeter and how being loud right now was a bad idea. He crouched to the ground and stuck out a meaty hand. "Rhys Williams."
"You were at Martha's wedding. I'm her sister. We met." She shook his hand carefully as Mickey stared.
"You know him?"
"He's Gwen's husband. Rhys, this is Mickey Smith. He works for Torchwood."
"In an advisory capacity," said Mickey, trying belatedly to sound stiff, and failing. "Jack calls me when he needs something done." He frowned, realising he probably sounded like a hitman, or God help him, one of Jack's playmates. "I mean, something technical. Or alien."
"And he called you in for this?"
Tish said, "We're here to see if we can break them out. They've taken my sister, and there's warrants out on the two of us."
"And you're here?"
Mickey grinned. "It's unexpected, see. No-one would think to look for us here."
Because it's suicidal, Tish had to admit, but what were their other options? Go into hiding from the law? Wait for Mum to sort things out? No, this was some kind of misunderstanding, and Jack would be able to figure out what had happened. And if he couldn't, this was certainly somehow his fault and being up close meant Tish would have first crack at punching him for ruining her life. She suspected there would be a queue.
Rhys asked, "Did you have more of a plan than that, then?"
Mickey looked at Tish. She was the one vouching for him, but again, he was Gwen's husband. If for some reason he was complicit in her arrest, and happened to be taking a walk in the woods hoping to run into two other fugitives who ought to be far from here, it wasn't as though they had many other allies.
"How did you get here?" Mickey asked him.
"Gwen phoned and told me to go on the run. I went to my mate Banana's flat, and there's his cousin who lives with him, name's Charlie, bit simple sometimes but a madman on the computer. Anyway, I had him use his Google to see if he could find anything about what happened." Anger moved over his face and was gone. Apparently Charlie had found something Rhys didn't like. "I need to get her out of there."
Tish pulled the papers out of her bag. "We did some research before we came. They've got a call out for a funeral director. There's two bodies in there." She showed Rhys the route. "That's our way in."
***
Ianto had no idea where Hart had stolen his computer from, but it was sleek, and nearly as fast as Mainframe. As he went to open one of Jack's less secure bank accounts, he found the way blocked. Dread soaking up from his feet and settling in his stomach, he tried another, and a third.
"They've locked the accounts. Fuck."
John hovered behind him, heat radiating like a sickness. The skin on Ianto's neck crawled. Without the money, he was right back where he'd started, and he hadn't started anywhere good.
"Too bad."
"If I go in through UNIT's servers, I can unlock it." Fool's gambit, he knew, but he sounded confident and Hart appeared to buy the ruse. Toshiko had long ago cracked the UNIT firewall, and shown Ianto the means one bored afternoon. He was in inside of a minute, hunting around for emails, orders, locations. Jack and the others were being held at a facility half an hour from Cardiff. That pinged his interest. They ought to be in prison, a proper prison under proper authorities. Why hold them in the middle of nowhere?
Another set of orders caught his eye, and he reared back in the seat.
"No cash there, either?"
"They have Alice and Steven. But they're not being held with the others." The order was for indefinite detention, held as enemies of the state under the Unearthly Threat Act. The Act had passed in secret years ago, but wasn't found in the normal lists of laws. It was the one sop the government had given to Torchwood, the old if-it's-alien-it's-ours Torchwood, legislation ensuring Her Majesty's Alien Hunters and their actions had the full support of law. Among the provisions, the Act declared anyone who hadn't been born on Earth, and any descendents through three generations, not legally human.
"You can look up your girlfriend and boyfriend later, Eye Candy."
Frying pan to fire, where could he possibly go that was worse? He had no choice. "Alice is Jack's daughter."
Hart's entire body snapped to attention. "He had kids?"
"He has Alice." Of Jack's two sons Ianto knew about, Philip was dead and Franklin was elderly. "They'll use her against him. She and her son are listed as non-humans. That means they won't exist in the normal legal system." If someone intended to hurt them now, the perpetrator wouldn't even be subject to a lawsuit. Jack fell under the same category. The others -- Ianto checked again, found Gwen, Perry, and Martha, with warrants out for Tish and Mickey -- were being detained as terrorists, responsible for the bombings in Cardiff. He turned to face Hart angrily. "They're being charged for your crime!"
He was met with a disinterested shrug. "Daughter?"
Ianto closed his eyes. "Another fifty thousand. And you don't touch her or her child."
"Fifty thousand for what?"
"We need to get them out of there. We can work on freeing the others after Alice and Steven are safe. As long as they're in custody, Jack can't do anything. He won't. It'll be an even one hundred thousand pounds for you, but we must go now." He waved his hand at Hart's working Vortex Manipulator.
Hart smiled, showing the tips of his teeth. "One hundred thousand pounds, and if you can't come up with it, I get to take it out of both your hides. Or is it all three?"
His traitorous imagination let fly in horrible, vicious technicolour before Ianto clamped down on the mental prospect. "I'll get you the money."
***
Jack had withdrawn inside his own head, leaving Perry alone in their shared cell. He'd paced the small confines to get a feel for the space (answer: ten by twelve feet, a lidless toilet beside the door, a bunk on either side), had inventoried himself to see if anything could help (answer: no), and sat back down on his bunk to wait for whatever came next (answer: who knew?). He wasn't good at comfort, never had been. When his own parents had been killed, he'd sobbed for a day and the next he'd signed up for the army. He'd lost friends in the war, Jack had lost friends, lost his son, kept losing. Perry didn't know how to do comfort, but what comfort mattered every time the world ended for someone? He offered his silence instead.
The silence was broken by heels clicking on the corridor outside their cells.
Perry looked at Jack, but he was faraway. Perry went to the grille. A woman stood outside: blonde, severe, too-red lips and a look in her eyes Perry could recall from the war, the look of a killer.
When she smiled, he felt the prickle in his bones.
"I hope you've enjoyed the accommodations we've provided."
"Let us go," Gwen said firmly from the other window. "We had nothing to do with the bombings. Perry and Martha weren't even there."
"Mrs. Cooper, you're not here because of the bombings. You and your associates have been arrested as enemies of the state. Torchwood's actions nearly led to the destruction of the Earth on multiple occasions. Captain Harkness has rewritten time. You yourself opened the Cardiff Rift in order to restore your fiancé to life, causing the deaths of hundreds in the process. All of you enabled a murderess to escape."
The woman stood in front of the cells. "I'd be happy to throw the lot of you down into a deep, dark hole, and never let you out again. But needs must. If you tell us the current whereabouts of Lucy Saxon, you will find the fist of justice to be more lenient."
They had helped a woman escape from Broadfell Prison back in December, but the name on her paperwork had been Allison Frye, and Jack had told them her name was Susan Foreman. Jack and Dr. Jones had gone off with her after the escape, and Jack had returned later that night. He'd said nothing about where they'd gone. Perry closed his lips tightly. He felt more than saw her gaze go across his face.
"Come now," said the woman. "We're all friends here. Well, I tell a lie. We're not friends. And I am authorised to hurt you. You have no rights."
He swallowed. They'd said, back then, that the Germans did this. If they caught you and locked you away in a POW camp, they'd torture a man until he told them what they wanted to know, and if he didn't have the intel, until he died. The stories grew grotesque in the telling. A month ago, he'd steeled himself to go looking online for what had been documented by history.
The woman said to someone Perry couldn't see, "Bring Dr. Jones."
Gwen put herself in front of the door. "You will not."
"Cooper is collateral. Shoot her if she causes trouble. Do not under any circumstances kill the good doctor." Her voice was tight, proud. "You and I do not get that honour."
A guard came to the other cell. A second guard stood back with a gun at the ready. "Leave her alone," Perry said, for all the good it would do.
"I intend to," said the woman. "If she doesn't give me the information I require, she will be quite definitely alone. I have my prisoners. However, her child is surplus to our needs. Guards?"
Martha let out a sharp breath that rattled and carried. Gwen growled.
As the key fitted to the lock, Jack said, "Lucy Saxon is in Indonesia. She's working at a free clinic in Palu." He came to the door slowly, and Perry let him pass to the window. "She's using a false name, but she may have changed the one we gave her. I would have."
He watched the woman. Perry could only assume she watched him back.
"Your cooperation is noted, Captain. I will also need the codes to enter and reactivate the Torchwood base in Glasgow."
"I don't have them."
"Don't play stupid, Captain. I have all of your friends. I have your daughter and grandson."
"I wasn't on-site during the lockdown." His face was glass. "Ianto handled it. He never gave me the codes, and I never remembered to ask."
"If you expect me to believe ... "
"Believe what you want. I can't get in, either, unless he wrote the passcode down somewhere. We thought we had time."
Perry recalled seeing Ianto recording day to day minutiae in his diary, but wouldn't dare suggest looking there now. If they managed to get out of this mess, someone would have to.
The Governor was silent for a moment. "I believe I am required by protocol to say, I am sorry for your loss." Her heels clicked down the hallway, and were gone.
Jack rested his head against the door. Gwen said, "Jack?"
"No more deaths today. Martha, all right?"
Her voice trembled. "All right."
Jack went back to his bunk and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
They had to get out of here.
***
She tried to make it a game. "We're not really in gaol, sweetheart," Alice told Steven. "They're playacting. We have to stay here and pretend to be good." And then Dad better bloody well get us the fuck out of here. She petted his head.
"It's not like on the telly." He dangled his feet over the edge of the bunk, looking around in curiosity. He wasn't at all afraid, thank God. She was frightened enough for them both.
"You're not supposed to be watching those programmes."
He grinned sheepishly, turning his two index fingers into a single pistol. "Bang! Bang!"
"Stop it," she chided, but gently.
Alice went over escape plans in her head. This did not take long. Were she alone, she was willing to attack her guard, should a guard be dim-witted enough to enter her cell. But with Steven there, she didn't dare. So long as they had him, they had her. Which was why they had her, because surely Jack was nearby going through similar mental contortions.
So many times, she wished he would leave her alone. Nothing good ever came of interacting with him, and hadn't since she'd been little. Steven needed a place to grow up in safety, where she wouldn't have to worry about someone trying to hurt him because of his grandfather's mistakes.
Alice heard a noise outside her cell, a weird electrical sound she couldn't place. "Ugh," said a familiar voice. "That was awful."
"Not designed for passengers, Eye Candy. I told you." She didn't know the other voice.
Alice went to the door. There was no glass, just a blank wall. "Ianto?"
"Alice? Is Steven with you?"
"Yes." She glanced at her son, who had perked up. He got on well with Dad's current fling, God alone knew why.
"Get back from the door."
She drew back. She wrapped herself around Steven, putting her back to the door. There was a high-pitched noise and a spark. The door fell in with a loud clang. Alice didn't wait to see what was outside, merely took Steven by the arm.
"How are we getting out of here?" She didn't know the other man, a thin man with a languid face, suspect fashion sense, and the same overpowering sexuality she associated with a certain family member. "Who's this?"
Ianto said, "Take his hand," placing her hand and Steven's on the other's wrist, which bore a leather strap with a strong resemblance to Jack's. She heard shouts and running boots.
"Time to go," said the other man, and Alice felt a sharp, sickening tug in her stomach. She cried out, reached out, tried to get Steven, she was falling.
She fell to her knees suddenly, stomach threatening to empty itself, head pounding. She lay on a polished hardwood floor. The room was dark. No, it was a hallway, furnished in old, fine wood. Rich hangings and paintings of stodgy men and women she didn't know decorated the walls. One door cracked open, leading to a room that had the twilight, dusty mien of a forgotten room with long-closed blinds.
Her head cleared, and she steadied herself, looking for her son. Steven was perfectly fine, looking around himself in delight.
Ianto held out his hand and helped her to her feet. Alice said, "If you say 'Welcome to Wonderland' you're getting a pinch. Where are we?"
The other man broke away from them, examining a painting on one wall the way an art appraiser -- or art thief -- would do. Ianto said, "Torchwood House. We're in Glasgow. It's as tight as a fortress from the outside. I needed to get the two of you somewhere safe."
The man, the one who reminded her too strongly of Jack, oozed over. "And we did get you safe." He took her hand without asking and brought it to his lips, merry eyes leering at her. She yanked her arm back.
"Who's this?"
"Call him John," said Ianto, looking unhappy. "He is, sadly, our rescuer."
"How does he know Jack?"
Both men looked at her thoughtfully. John said, "Interesting."
"They used to be partners."
"It was like being married," John said in a delighted drawl. Ianto rolled his eyes. Alice felt her usual disgust for her father's sex partners. Now she was stuck with two of them.
"Are you going to rescue him next?"
John grinned. "Oh yes. We had to spring you first."
Ianto said, "As long as they had you and Steven, Jack wouldn't be able to move against them."
"I know that. I'm not stupid." Glasgow. And whoever had taken them, whoever was behind this, they were happy to play dirty. She looked at John, but asked Ianto, "Is he trustworthy?"
"God, no."
"Right." She took Ianto's hand and half-dragged him into the study, closing the door. John whistled.
Ianto said, "We shouldn't leave him alone in a room with Steven. Or you. Or anyone, really. I've probably endangered you further by telling him who you are." He looked worn out and shocky and desperate, not a good combination, but Alice didn't have time for his problems right now.
"I have a brother. He's in Aberdeen. He's an old man."
"Wait." Confusion drizzled through his tone like caramel. "You know Frank?"
"You know Frank? He told you about Frank and he never told me?" Her voice was rising, and she wanted to punch things.
"I figured it out. I figured you out. He doesn't ... tell me things. Not intentionally." The confession obviously cost him, but she refused to care.
She said, "Dad told my brother about me, little things here and there. When I was a baby, he even took me to meet him once. Frank put the pieces together. It's a habit you get into when you're dealing with Jack." She read that much understanding on his face. "Frank looked me up a few years ago. I almost hung up on him. I thought he was trying to blackmail me or threaten me. He just wanted to talk."
She smiled faintly at the memory. Some mad old pensioner, claiming to be her brother? But not only did he know about Jack, he knew what it was like to grow up under the shadow of what their father was. They chatted perhaps twice a year, and kept it their secret, something of their own to hide away from the man whose secrets had shaped their whole lives.
"The thing is, I called him last week, and I'm certain he's talked to Jack recently. If they've been watching us, they'll find Frank and use him too."
"Right." He took a breath. "Let me talk to John. We'll bring Frank here. Then we can get Jack and the others."
"What are we waiting for?" She was already halfway to the door.
He said, "I need a moment to think. I've run out of money."
***
Intercepting the man from the funeral home went smoothly. He was a hefty bloke, so Rhys donned his dark suit. Tish would act as his assistant in her official and prim yet stylish business suit. Mickey could hide out as their backup in the van. He took a long, searching look at the coffin.
"I'm not claustrophobic. Really."
"They'll search the van," Tish said reasonably. "You'll be safe enough inside."
"Right." Still, he waited until the van approached the gates to the base before unfastening the lid. He didn't know for coffins, except when he'd picked out a nice one for his Gran's funeral. Was this the carry-and-go floor model? The high end government model? He'd seen the names on the list and winced at the loss. Was Ianto's family being contacted even now and told, "Good news, we've got your man's body banged up in a sweet casket?"
"Hop in," Rhys said. But Rhys wasn't the one getting inside his own coffin, and shutting the lid on top of himself. The plush cream-coloured velour smelled antiseptic with an overlay of floral perfume, an Odour-Eater for dead people built into the fabric. He found the scent pleasant at first, then gagging.
In the darkness, Mickey was jostled as the van pulled to a stop by the gate. Soldiers rapped on the window. Rhys played up the sombre yet dotty funeral director's assistant, sent out on a late run to a new address. Tish was his assistant, and they did a nice little improv where she'd been sent with him 'cause of that one body he misplaced in the records, Mr. Yoo's family had been so distraught.
Mickey tried not to laugh, stayed silent as the grave.
He heard the van door open in the back, and held his breath whilst someone stood there, then shut the van again without checking the coffins.
"Go on, then. Building 3C. Take this road, turn right at the sign, you can't miss it. They'll meet you at the door." Building 3C was listed as the same building where the prisoners were kept, if they hadn't been moved since Mickey had looked it up.
"Thanks, mate."
The van jerked into motion, rocking Mickey in his coffin. He daren't get out yet.
"I hope this works," he muttered.
He hadn't let himself consider why he was doing all this, but in the darkness, introspection was high on the list of things to do to pass the time. Jack wasn't his best mate; they had a reasonable working relationship begun with the tenuous connection of having shagged the same girl. (And not at the same time, Mickey was quick to point out to anyone who knew Jack.) Still, with only that between them, Jack had set Mickey up in this universe, and he'd given him a job. Mickey could feel like he owed the man a debt, owed Torchwood whatever shabby loyalty it demanded. But his reason was simpler than that, here in the dark.
All this time, and he was still pushing back against 'Mickey the idiot' and 'Mickey the coward.' Sure, he'd done his part in that other universe, fighting Cybermen and everything, but doing that he'd figured out on his own that he had to work every single day to earn the name 'Mickey the hero.'
***
Gwen took Martha's hand and squeezed. Her own pulse was racing, nervous, but Martha remained placid, her heartbeat fluttering no faster than if they were contemplating a walk by the Bay. Jack hadn't told Gwen much about the strange, missing year. His eyes grew dark every time, and he twitched, and Gwen wanted to know, needed to know. Ianto had taken her arm one day and said to her plainly that she didn't, his own eyes dimmed by what little he'd been told. Once Jack had told Gwen his secrets, and that had changed, and now ...
Now Jack wasn't saying anything, not about the missing year, not about anything. Gwen had only the crumbs, and the hints. Martha had undertaken a great journey, a mission, had saved the Earth amidst horrors, the memory of which made Jack wake up screaming. And in this cell, Martha's gaze was not shadowed, and she did not quake, and her pulse stayed calm.
All at once, Martha's eyes rolled up in her head as she fell to the floor, moaning and convulsing.
Gwen sprang to her feet. "Help! Someone help!" She rattled the door, or tried, but it was solid. She pounded her fists. Across the way, she saw Perry at the window. "Martha's sick! She needs help!"
Perry bellowed, his deep voice carrying further than hers: "Help!" Behind her, Martha's moans grew in volume.
Moments passed before Gwen heard footsteps running her way. Gwen kept shouting as two soldiers came to the cell door. "Please! I think she's having a seizure."
The first turned to his friend, who raised his rifle. Keys were dug out and Gwen stood back as the door swung open. The first came into the cell with them, went to his knees beside Martha's spasming body. "How long has she been like this?"
"Just a few minutes." Gwen cast scared eyes on the soldier with the gun, her arms flat at her sides. "Can you help her? Take her to the infirmary, something. Please, she's pregnant." And never mind what that woman threatened to do to her baby. She wished they'd both come in to check on Martha.
"Yeah," said the first soldier, who looked too young for this job. He nodded to his friend, who walked into the cell, lowering his rifle.
He didn't see the kick coming as Gwen booted his rifle out of his hands and followed up with a fast punch to his face. Before his friend could stand, Martha had grabbed his neck, throwing him to the ground and seating herself on his chest, arms at his throat, cutting off his windpipe.
The other guard struck out at Gwen's abdomen, but she had an elbow for his jaw, and she was faster grabbing for his gun. Seconds later, she was above him with the rifle pointed at his head.
"All right, you two, into the cell and we won't shoot you." Martha climbed off the gasping man, and his friend slowly moved into the cell. "Martha, get his keys."
"You'll be fine," Martha said. "I prescribe about twenty minutes of rest and a new career option." She grasped the key ring and locked the cell door as Gwen covered the guards. They hurried across to the other cell. "Time to go, boys."
Moments later, Perry and Jack joined them in the corridor. Gwen kept her gun. She nodded to the next set of cells. "Johnson?"
"Leave her," Perry said, and Jack said, "Give her the keys."
Martha unlocked Johnson's cell but did not open the door. Gwen said, "Come or go, we're not staying for you."
Jack came up beside Gwen. "Did you have more of a plan than get the gun and get out of the cells?"
"I figured you'd improvise something."
Perry said, "Never mind, I'm going back to my cell."
"More your arse," said Johnson, coming out of hers. "This way." Without waiting, she struck out in a different direction than the guards had brought them.
Gwen looked at Jack, but Jack wasn't in a place where he could make decisions, and he followed Johnson. "They're going to be here any minute," he said in a low voice. "Do whatever you have to and get Martha and Perry out. Don't stop for me, don't worry about me, just take whatever opening you get. I want the three of you safe. Understood?" He placed a hand on her shoulder like a robe, like a mantle. How many times had he left her in charge in his absence? What absence was he planning this time?
"We need you with us." She kept her voice as low.
"Get them out," he repeated, and Gwen recognised an order when she heard one.
Voices up ahead prevented her from responding. Jack waved them back behind the last corner. Johnson stayed put in the centre of the hallway, arms folded. He gestured at her to no avail, then joined Gwen around the corner.
"Conserve your bullets," he mouthed at her. She nodded.
"Halt!" said a voice from Johnson's position.
"You idiots, the prisoners have escaped." Her voice dripped derision and authority. Even Gwen felt her own spine straightening in fear. "They went out the other end of the prison block. They're armed."
"Ma'am?" asked someone. "What's going on?"
"I just told you. The prisoners escaped because someone was stupid enough to leave the cells unlocked. Go to the other end and you might not find yourself on the wrong end of a hearing!"
"Yes, ma'am." The footsteps hurried in the other direction, away from them.
The four of them shared a glance as Jack quietly counted to fifteen. "Come on."
Johnson was gone, as were most of the guards. One lone guard remained on duty outside the cellblock. Unfortunately, he saw them as soon as they saw him, and his weapon was already up. Jack fronted the group as a decoy. Gwen watched the bullets slam into him, and her own took out the guard's shoulder as Jack fell dead to the floor.
She stood over the stricken guard as he clutched his wound. "Tell us the way out. Do it now or your other shoulder will match and I can aim lower."
He didn't answer, only lay there whimpering, watching her with scared eyes. Gwen steeled herself. She could do this. She'd shot people, shot aliens. Most of the time, they'd been shooting back.
Behind her, Martha huffed as she helped Perry lift Jack's body to a half-carry. Martha was tiny, and Perry wasn't a big man. Gwen prayed Jack came around quickly. She shifted her hold on her gun. "You have to the count of five to tell us the way out. One. Four."
The door beyond them opened, and Gwen cursed. She raised her gun. She wasn't going back without a good fight. Gwen had faced down Daleks and Cybermen.
"Stay behind me!" she said to the rest. She aimed.
"Don't you dare shoot me, Gwen Cooper, you daft woman!"
Shock ran through her. She lowered the gun. "Rhys?"
***
Chapter Six
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Lois, Johnson, Rupesh, Martha, Mickey, Tish, Rhys, John, Alice, Steven, OCs, many cameos
Pairings: mostly canon
Rating: R
Warnings: AUTHOR CHOOSES NOT TO WARN (but will answer PMs for any content questions)
Spoilers: up through COE
Words: 60,000 (6,500 this part)
Betas: eldarwannabe and fide_et_spe both performed major heavy lifting on this story, and have my deepest thanks for their efforts
Summary: A secret movement within the government successfully placed Lois Habiba as a spy inside Torchwood, and the trap is ready to be sprung. Meanwhile, Jack has received worrisome news, leading Gwen and Ianto from one danger into another. Loves, loyalties, and everyone's lives are on the line as the force behind the conspiracy finally comes to light.
A/N: Final fic in a fake third series where Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh have joined the team. Can be read as a stand-alone but will make more sense in context of the other stories.
Master Post
Chapter Four
***
Chapter Five
***
The van was trapped, lorries to one side, police cars pulling up to the other. Ianto's head was swimming from the poison in the coffee. He didn't have long. He revved the engine, hoping to distract his pursuers, hoping Gwen would get free, go for help, find Jack.
His hands were so tired. Everything was hazy. His body didn't want to respond, and panic closed his throat. There was a sudden flash, and in the passenger seat to his left, he saw the outline of two forms before he passed out.
"Good morning, Eye Candy."
He wasn't in the van, nor could he identify his surroundings. John Hart crouched over him like a scraggly raven, ready to pluck out his eyes or his heart. Ianto drew back, feeling another wave of revulsion at the glimmer in Hart's eyes as he noted Ianto's obvious fear.
His hands were bound behind him, and his arms hurt. His clothes were still in place, a small mercy but not one he held out hope on in the long term. It had been such a nice frying pan, he thought bitterly.
His mouth was dry, and he couldn't make the words come out at first. Ianto wet his lips and tried again. "As trite as this sounds, where are we?"
John, thankfully, leaned back. "Far enough away. Did you know you're dead?"
"I'm not." He was breathing and sore.
"According to the official records you are. As luck would have it, I was planning to visit a certain Captain of your acquaintance, and I checked the news first. Told me you fried like a fish. I had an extra body I wasn't doing anything with, so I dropped him off, plucked you, and now we're here." He grin came closer. "Just you and I, Eye Candy."
"You had a spare body? Whose?"
Hart shrugged. "I didn't ask his name. He owed me money. Dead is dead, might as well use a corpse and save a body." His right hand stroked Ianto's arm through his sleeve. Ianto hid his shudder poorly, as Hart said, "I like using bodies, too."
"I was poisoned."
Hart shrugged. "You looked peaky. I gave you a nice shot of fix-em-up meds."
"What?"
There was a roll of eyes and a sigh that said Hart wasn't going to bother explaining to the stupid caveman.
"Jack will come looking for me." It was meant in threat and came out half-choked. He regretted the words instantly. That would be the plan. Whatever else Hart had in mind for him to pass the time, Ianto was bait.
"Guess again. You're dead. I told you. Right now, they're delivering the news to your blubbering relatives if you have any. I'm sure Jack will take it stoically," he said with a mocking expression of seriousness, "then bugger off to drown his sorrows in the first hole he can find that wriggles."
"Fuck you."
"Soon enough. First, now that you're awake, I need to decide where we're off to."
It was pointless to say he wouldn't go anywhere with the madman. Instead he lay as still as he could and started working on his bonds. The ropes had a bit of give. He focused on freeing himself.
Now that his vision had cleared, Ianto assessed his surroundings. They were in a house or a flat, matted burgundy carpet, panelled walls, no windows, one doorway that opened onto a room he couldn't see from this position. Everything smelled of stale patchouli and cheap fried food left to rot in an unseen corner, a gagging stench. From outside he heard the sounds of traffic, and hoped that meant they were still on Earth. If Hart had abducted him to another world or time, Ianto would never get home.
Hart's left hand stroked Ianto's chin. The other moved down to his hip, and squeezed roughly. "I can pick up some quick cash by selling you on Occimo Prime. There's a bloke I know who owns one of the classy whore pits, I could name my price for a tight piece of arse trained up by an expert." The hand at his hip moved. Ianto made himself go perfectly still. "Of course, that means no sampling you myself, not and get full price." He leaned intimately close, mouth puffing foul breaths into Ianto's face. "They do insist on their programme. The low-rent whore pits won't care as much what condition you're in."
"Jack will kill you."
"He has to find out about it first, and he won't, because he thinks you're dead." Hart's lips ghosted over Ianto's cheek. "I could take you with me. You're not completely incapable in a fight. It's been a while since I had a partner to work with. But since I know you'll say no," he drew back, "I'll just have to keep you here, enjoy myself, and ransom you off to Gorgeous when I've had my fun. Even used, he'll give me what I want for you."
John's hand slipped under Ianto's waistband, and he chuckled in response to Ianto's terrified shudder.
His legs were aching but free. He could get in one good kick, and if he was lucky, John would beat him unconscious in retaliation. Or shoot him. Just because Ianto couldn't see a weapon didn't mean John was unarmed. Be raped or be killed, and Ianto wasn't the one who got to decide.
"You want money."
John's hand was warm, his calluses rough. "Doesn't everyone?"
"You want to ransom me or sell me. You wanted the Arcadian diamond to sell it. You're broke." He tried not to gasp out the words, tried hard to stay calm. "You need money now."
"I need a lot of things now." He stopped fondling, and his hand dug lower.
"I'll pay you. Fifty thousand pounds in your pocket."
John laughed in a low voice. "You think your money is good anywhere else in the galaxy? I see why he likes it here. You people are so stupidly funny."
"You can buy things that are valuable. Gold. Minerals. Something portable. Not my problem. Fifty thousand pounds, on the table now."
John pulled his hand free. Ianto bit back his cry of relief. "You don't have that kind of money."
"Jack does, and I have access to all his accounts." To buy groceries. Jack had been surprised by the Christmas shopping. He might very well hit the roof when he found out about this, but Ianto was desperate. "Your call."
"When can you have the money?"
"By the end of the day, if I can get to the bank." John reached behind him, and Ianto tensed, but it was only to free his hands. Ianto rubbed his sore wrists. "Are we still on Earth?"
"Still on Earth, still in your time."
"If you have a computer, I can start the transfer."
***
They'd been brought food, a meat stew Gwen chose not to scrutinise too closely and a slice of bread. Martha looked faint but washed down small bites with great gulps of water. "Alright, Martha?" Gwen asked her between unsavoury bites of her own.
"Should do. I am craving fish like you wouldn't believe right now."
Gwen stirred the food in the bowl. "It might be fish."
Martha looked even fainter.
"Sorry."
Gwen cast a glance at the closed door. The men had also been fed, but she hadn't heard them talking. She desperately wanted to be in the room with Jack, to let him know she was there for him, but across the hall was miles away, and he was shut like a clam.
She heard a noise from a cell down the corridor, and a voice. Terrible stew forgotten, she stood up and went to the door. "Johnson?"
There was a long silence. "Here."
Rage bloomed in her gut. "Let us out of here. How dare you put us away like this."
Gwen heard another noise, one she couldn't place. Was Johnson laughing? "If I could right now, I would. I'm in the next cell."
Martha frowned. Jack and Perry had caught her up on their capture, and Martha had filled Gwen in. Why was Johnson with them? "You were helping them."
"It doesn't matter now."
Gwen said, "You got Ianto killed. The three of you." Fire burned in her recollections, orange and black.
Johnson's breath caught. "He's only the first. None of us are walking out of here. I tried to get Alice and her son out of harm's way."
"You what?" It was the first Jack had spoken. Gwen shut her eyes.
"They weren't involved in the prison break. I suspected they would be brought in. I gave her false ID and told her to run. When she was picked up, she thought I'd turned her in. I don't know where they've been taken."
Perry said, "Johnson, you're terrible at faking IDs. You never do the groundwork."
Johnson said, "Captain, the man behind our mission will use them against you. I advise you to cooperate with whatever he asks, for the safety of your family and the people with you."
Jack said nothing.
***
Tish heard the rustle of the undergrowth behind her and spun. Mickey already had his tyre iron at the ready. They hadn't been startled by a soldier, though, but a stout bloke in civilian clothes. His hand was in his jacket pocket. The bulge in his pocket could be a gun or it could be his finger pretending to be a gun.
"Back away slowly," said the man. He gestured with his possibly-finger-possibly-gun. "Put that down."
Mickey put on an annoyed face. "Yeah, no. I don't think you've got a gun, mate. Show me your hands."
From beyond their vantage point, Tish heard the continued movement of the guards. They were going to attract attention any minute.
She said, "If you're with the base, you're going to get us inside." The confusion on his face told her what she needed. "But you're not, are you?"
"I thought you were."
Mickey lowered his grip on the tyre iron. "Which would explain why we're hiding out here. No points."
"Sorry. I'm new to this whole life."
His voice, the mild but constant note of complaint, registered with a memory. "Do I know you?" she asked him.
"Dunno." He looked around, suddenly aware of how close they were to the perimeter and how being loud right now was a bad idea. He crouched to the ground and stuck out a meaty hand. "Rhys Williams."
"You were at Martha's wedding. I'm her sister. We met." She shook his hand carefully as Mickey stared.
"You know him?"
"He's Gwen's husband. Rhys, this is Mickey Smith. He works for Torchwood."
"In an advisory capacity," said Mickey, trying belatedly to sound stiff, and failing. "Jack calls me when he needs something done." He frowned, realising he probably sounded like a hitman, or God help him, one of Jack's playmates. "I mean, something technical. Or alien."
"And he called you in for this?"
Tish said, "We're here to see if we can break them out. They've taken my sister, and there's warrants out on the two of us."
"And you're here?"
Mickey grinned. "It's unexpected, see. No-one would think to look for us here."
Because it's suicidal, Tish had to admit, but what were their other options? Go into hiding from the law? Wait for Mum to sort things out? No, this was some kind of misunderstanding, and Jack would be able to figure out what had happened. And if he couldn't, this was certainly somehow his fault and being up close meant Tish would have first crack at punching him for ruining her life. She suspected there would be a queue.
Rhys asked, "Did you have more of a plan than that, then?"
Mickey looked at Tish. She was the one vouching for him, but again, he was Gwen's husband. If for some reason he was complicit in her arrest, and happened to be taking a walk in the woods hoping to run into two other fugitives who ought to be far from here, it wasn't as though they had many other allies.
"How did you get here?" Mickey asked him.
"Gwen phoned and told me to go on the run. I went to my mate Banana's flat, and there's his cousin who lives with him, name's Charlie, bit simple sometimes but a madman on the computer. Anyway, I had him use his Google to see if he could find anything about what happened." Anger moved over his face and was gone. Apparently Charlie had found something Rhys didn't like. "I need to get her out of there."
Tish pulled the papers out of her bag. "We did some research before we came. They've got a call out for a funeral director. There's two bodies in there." She showed Rhys the route. "That's our way in."
***
Ianto had no idea where Hart had stolen his computer from, but it was sleek, and nearly as fast as Mainframe. As he went to open one of Jack's less secure bank accounts, he found the way blocked. Dread soaking up from his feet and settling in his stomach, he tried another, and a third.
"They've locked the accounts. Fuck."
John hovered behind him, heat radiating like a sickness. The skin on Ianto's neck crawled. Without the money, he was right back where he'd started, and he hadn't started anywhere good.
"Too bad."
"If I go in through UNIT's servers, I can unlock it." Fool's gambit, he knew, but he sounded confident and Hart appeared to buy the ruse. Toshiko had long ago cracked the UNIT firewall, and shown Ianto the means one bored afternoon. He was in inside of a minute, hunting around for emails, orders, locations. Jack and the others were being held at a facility half an hour from Cardiff. That pinged his interest. They ought to be in prison, a proper prison under proper authorities. Why hold them in the middle of nowhere?
Another set of orders caught his eye, and he reared back in the seat.
"No cash there, either?"
"They have Alice and Steven. But they're not being held with the others." The order was for indefinite detention, held as enemies of the state under the Unearthly Threat Act. The Act had passed in secret years ago, but wasn't found in the normal lists of laws. It was the one sop the government had given to Torchwood, the old if-it's-alien-it's-ours Torchwood, legislation ensuring Her Majesty's Alien Hunters and their actions had the full support of law. Among the provisions, the Act declared anyone who hadn't been born on Earth, and any descendents through three generations, not legally human.
"You can look up your girlfriend and boyfriend later, Eye Candy."
Frying pan to fire, where could he possibly go that was worse? He had no choice. "Alice is Jack's daughter."
Hart's entire body snapped to attention. "He had kids?"
"He has Alice." Of Jack's two sons Ianto knew about, Philip was dead and Franklin was elderly. "They'll use her against him. She and her son are listed as non-humans. That means they won't exist in the normal legal system." If someone intended to hurt them now, the perpetrator wouldn't even be subject to a lawsuit. Jack fell under the same category. The others -- Ianto checked again, found Gwen, Perry, and Martha, with warrants out for Tish and Mickey -- were being detained as terrorists, responsible for the bombings in Cardiff. He turned to face Hart angrily. "They're being charged for your crime!"
He was met with a disinterested shrug. "Daughter?"
Ianto closed his eyes. "Another fifty thousand. And you don't touch her or her child."
"Fifty thousand for what?"
"We need to get them out of there. We can work on freeing the others after Alice and Steven are safe. As long as they're in custody, Jack can't do anything. He won't. It'll be an even one hundred thousand pounds for you, but we must go now." He waved his hand at Hart's working Vortex Manipulator.
Hart smiled, showing the tips of his teeth. "One hundred thousand pounds, and if you can't come up with it, I get to take it out of both your hides. Or is it all three?"
His traitorous imagination let fly in horrible, vicious technicolour before Ianto clamped down on the mental prospect. "I'll get you the money."
***
Jack had withdrawn inside his own head, leaving Perry alone in their shared cell. He'd paced the small confines to get a feel for the space (answer: ten by twelve feet, a lidless toilet beside the door, a bunk on either side), had inventoried himself to see if anything could help (answer: no), and sat back down on his bunk to wait for whatever came next (answer: who knew?). He wasn't good at comfort, never had been. When his own parents had been killed, he'd sobbed for a day and the next he'd signed up for the army. He'd lost friends in the war, Jack had lost friends, lost his son, kept losing. Perry didn't know how to do comfort, but what comfort mattered every time the world ended for someone? He offered his silence instead.
The silence was broken by heels clicking on the corridor outside their cells.
Perry looked at Jack, but he was faraway. Perry went to the grille. A woman stood outside: blonde, severe, too-red lips and a look in her eyes Perry could recall from the war, the look of a killer.
When she smiled, he felt the prickle in his bones.
"I hope you've enjoyed the accommodations we've provided."
"Let us go," Gwen said firmly from the other window. "We had nothing to do with the bombings. Perry and Martha weren't even there."
"Mrs. Cooper, you're not here because of the bombings. You and your associates have been arrested as enemies of the state. Torchwood's actions nearly led to the destruction of the Earth on multiple occasions. Captain Harkness has rewritten time. You yourself opened the Cardiff Rift in order to restore your fiancé to life, causing the deaths of hundreds in the process. All of you enabled a murderess to escape."
The woman stood in front of the cells. "I'd be happy to throw the lot of you down into a deep, dark hole, and never let you out again. But needs must. If you tell us the current whereabouts of Lucy Saxon, you will find the fist of justice to be more lenient."
They had helped a woman escape from Broadfell Prison back in December, but the name on her paperwork had been Allison Frye, and Jack had told them her name was Susan Foreman. Jack and Dr. Jones had gone off with her after the escape, and Jack had returned later that night. He'd said nothing about where they'd gone. Perry closed his lips tightly. He felt more than saw her gaze go across his face.
"Come now," said the woman. "We're all friends here. Well, I tell a lie. We're not friends. And I am authorised to hurt you. You have no rights."
He swallowed. They'd said, back then, that the Germans did this. If they caught you and locked you away in a POW camp, they'd torture a man until he told them what they wanted to know, and if he didn't have the intel, until he died. The stories grew grotesque in the telling. A month ago, he'd steeled himself to go looking online for what had been documented by history.
The woman said to someone Perry couldn't see, "Bring Dr. Jones."
Gwen put herself in front of the door. "You will not."
"Cooper is collateral. Shoot her if she causes trouble. Do not under any circumstances kill the good doctor." Her voice was tight, proud. "You and I do not get that honour."
A guard came to the other cell. A second guard stood back with a gun at the ready. "Leave her alone," Perry said, for all the good it would do.
"I intend to," said the woman. "If she doesn't give me the information I require, she will be quite definitely alone. I have my prisoners. However, her child is surplus to our needs. Guards?"
Martha let out a sharp breath that rattled and carried. Gwen growled.
As the key fitted to the lock, Jack said, "Lucy Saxon is in Indonesia. She's working at a free clinic in Palu." He came to the door slowly, and Perry let him pass to the window. "She's using a false name, but she may have changed the one we gave her. I would have."
He watched the woman. Perry could only assume she watched him back.
"Your cooperation is noted, Captain. I will also need the codes to enter and reactivate the Torchwood base in Glasgow."
"I don't have them."
"Don't play stupid, Captain. I have all of your friends. I have your daughter and grandson."
"I wasn't on-site during the lockdown." His face was glass. "Ianto handled it. He never gave me the codes, and I never remembered to ask."
"If you expect me to believe ... "
"Believe what you want. I can't get in, either, unless he wrote the passcode down somewhere. We thought we had time."
Perry recalled seeing Ianto recording day to day minutiae in his diary, but wouldn't dare suggest looking there now. If they managed to get out of this mess, someone would have to.
The Governor was silent for a moment. "I believe I am required by protocol to say, I am sorry for your loss." Her heels clicked down the hallway, and were gone.
Jack rested his head against the door. Gwen said, "Jack?"
"No more deaths today. Martha, all right?"
Her voice trembled. "All right."
Jack went back to his bunk and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
They had to get out of here.
***
She tried to make it a game. "We're not really in gaol, sweetheart," Alice told Steven. "They're playacting. We have to stay here and pretend to be good." And then Dad better bloody well get us the fuck out of here. She petted his head.
"It's not like on the telly." He dangled his feet over the edge of the bunk, looking around in curiosity. He wasn't at all afraid, thank God. She was frightened enough for them both.
"You're not supposed to be watching those programmes."
He grinned sheepishly, turning his two index fingers into a single pistol. "Bang! Bang!"
"Stop it," she chided, but gently.
Alice went over escape plans in her head. This did not take long. Were she alone, she was willing to attack her guard, should a guard be dim-witted enough to enter her cell. But with Steven there, she didn't dare. So long as they had him, they had her. Which was why they had her, because surely Jack was nearby going through similar mental contortions.
So many times, she wished he would leave her alone. Nothing good ever came of interacting with him, and hadn't since she'd been little. Steven needed a place to grow up in safety, where she wouldn't have to worry about someone trying to hurt him because of his grandfather's mistakes.
Alice heard a noise outside her cell, a weird electrical sound she couldn't place. "Ugh," said a familiar voice. "That was awful."
"Not designed for passengers, Eye Candy. I told you." She didn't know the other voice.
Alice went to the door. There was no glass, just a blank wall. "Ianto?"
"Alice? Is Steven with you?"
"Yes." She glanced at her son, who had perked up. He got on well with Dad's current fling, God alone knew why.
"Get back from the door."
She drew back. She wrapped herself around Steven, putting her back to the door. There was a high-pitched noise and a spark. The door fell in with a loud clang. Alice didn't wait to see what was outside, merely took Steven by the arm.
"How are we getting out of here?" She didn't know the other man, a thin man with a languid face, suspect fashion sense, and the same overpowering sexuality she associated with a certain family member. "Who's this?"
Ianto said, "Take his hand," placing her hand and Steven's on the other's wrist, which bore a leather strap with a strong resemblance to Jack's. She heard shouts and running boots.
"Time to go," said the other man, and Alice felt a sharp, sickening tug in her stomach. She cried out, reached out, tried to get Steven, she was falling.
She fell to her knees suddenly, stomach threatening to empty itself, head pounding. She lay on a polished hardwood floor. The room was dark. No, it was a hallway, furnished in old, fine wood. Rich hangings and paintings of stodgy men and women she didn't know decorated the walls. One door cracked open, leading to a room that had the twilight, dusty mien of a forgotten room with long-closed blinds.
Her head cleared, and she steadied herself, looking for her son. Steven was perfectly fine, looking around himself in delight.
Ianto held out his hand and helped her to her feet. Alice said, "If you say 'Welcome to Wonderland' you're getting a pinch. Where are we?"
The other man broke away from them, examining a painting on one wall the way an art appraiser -- or art thief -- would do. Ianto said, "Torchwood House. We're in Glasgow. It's as tight as a fortress from the outside. I needed to get the two of you somewhere safe."
The man, the one who reminded her too strongly of Jack, oozed over. "And we did get you safe." He took her hand without asking and brought it to his lips, merry eyes leering at her. She yanked her arm back.
"Who's this?"
"Call him John," said Ianto, looking unhappy. "He is, sadly, our rescuer."
"How does he know Jack?"
Both men looked at her thoughtfully. John said, "Interesting."
"They used to be partners."
"It was like being married," John said in a delighted drawl. Ianto rolled his eyes. Alice felt her usual disgust for her father's sex partners. Now she was stuck with two of them.
"Are you going to rescue him next?"
John grinned. "Oh yes. We had to spring you first."
Ianto said, "As long as they had you and Steven, Jack wouldn't be able to move against them."
"I know that. I'm not stupid." Glasgow. And whoever had taken them, whoever was behind this, they were happy to play dirty. She looked at John, but asked Ianto, "Is he trustworthy?"
"God, no."
"Right." She took Ianto's hand and half-dragged him into the study, closing the door. John whistled.
Ianto said, "We shouldn't leave him alone in a room with Steven. Or you. Or anyone, really. I've probably endangered you further by telling him who you are." He looked worn out and shocky and desperate, not a good combination, but Alice didn't have time for his problems right now.
"I have a brother. He's in Aberdeen. He's an old man."
"Wait." Confusion drizzled through his tone like caramel. "You know Frank?"
"You know Frank? He told you about Frank and he never told me?" Her voice was rising, and she wanted to punch things.
"I figured it out. I figured you out. He doesn't ... tell me things. Not intentionally." The confession obviously cost him, but she refused to care.
She said, "Dad told my brother about me, little things here and there. When I was a baby, he even took me to meet him once. Frank put the pieces together. It's a habit you get into when you're dealing with Jack." She read that much understanding on his face. "Frank looked me up a few years ago. I almost hung up on him. I thought he was trying to blackmail me or threaten me. He just wanted to talk."
She smiled faintly at the memory. Some mad old pensioner, claiming to be her brother? But not only did he know about Jack, he knew what it was like to grow up under the shadow of what their father was. They chatted perhaps twice a year, and kept it their secret, something of their own to hide away from the man whose secrets had shaped their whole lives.
"The thing is, I called him last week, and I'm certain he's talked to Jack recently. If they've been watching us, they'll find Frank and use him too."
"Right." He took a breath. "Let me talk to John. We'll bring Frank here. Then we can get Jack and the others."
"What are we waiting for?" She was already halfway to the door.
He said, "I need a moment to think. I've run out of money."
***
Intercepting the man from the funeral home went smoothly. He was a hefty bloke, so Rhys donned his dark suit. Tish would act as his assistant in her official and prim yet stylish business suit. Mickey could hide out as their backup in the van. He took a long, searching look at the coffin.
"I'm not claustrophobic. Really."
"They'll search the van," Tish said reasonably. "You'll be safe enough inside."
"Right." Still, he waited until the van approached the gates to the base before unfastening the lid. He didn't know for coffins, except when he'd picked out a nice one for his Gran's funeral. Was this the carry-and-go floor model? The high end government model? He'd seen the names on the list and winced at the loss. Was Ianto's family being contacted even now and told, "Good news, we've got your man's body banged up in a sweet casket?"
"Hop in," Rhys said. But Rhys wasn't the one getting inside his own coffin, and shutting the lid on top of himself. The plush cream-coloured velour smelled antiseptic with an overlay of floral perfume, an Odour-Eater for dead people built into the fabric. He found the scent pleasant at first, then gagging.
In the darkness, Mickey was jostled as the van pulled to a stop by the gate. Soldiers rapped on the window. Rhys played up the sombre yet dotty funeral director's assistant, sent out on a late run to a new address. Tish was his assistant, and they did a nice little improv where she'd been sent with him 'cause of that one body he misplaced in the records, Mr. Yoo's family had been so distraught.
Mickey tried not to laugh, stayed silent as the grave.
He heard the van door open in the back, and held his breath whilst someone stood there, then shut the van again without checking the coffins.
"Go on, then. Building 3C. Take this road, turn right at the sign, you can't miss it. They'll meet you at the door." Building 3C was listed as the same building where the prisoners were kept, if they hadn't been moved since Mickey had looked it up.
"Thanks, mate."
The van jerked into motion, rocking Mickey in his coffin. He daren't get out yet.
"I hope this works," he muttered.
He hadn't let himself consider why he was doing all this, but in the darkness, introspection was high on the list of things to do to pass the time. Jack wasn't his best mate; they had a reasonable working relationship begun with the tenuous connection of having shagged the same girl. (And not at the same time, Mickey was quick to point out to anyone who knew Jack.) Still, with only that between them, Jack had set Mickey up in this universe, and he'd given him a job. Mickey could feel like he owed the man a debt, owed Torchwood whatever shabby loyalty it demanded. But his reason was simpler than that, here in the dark.
All this time, and he was still pushing back against 'Mickey the idiot' and 'Mickey the coward.' Sure, he'd done his part in that other universe, fighting Cybermen and everything, but doing that he'd figured out on his own that he had to work every single day to earn the name 'Mickey the hero.'
***
Gwen took Martha's hand and squeezed. Her own pulse was racing, nervous, but Martha remained placid, her heartbeat fluttering no faster than if they were contemplating a walk by the Bay. Jack hadn't told Gwen much about the strange, missing year. His eyes grew dark every time, and he twitched, and Gwen wanted to know, needed to know. Ianto had taken her arm one day and said to her plainly that she didn't, his own eyes dimmed by what little he'd been told. Once Jack had told Gwen his secrets, and that had changed, and now ...
Now Jack wasn't saying anything, not about the missing year, not about anything. Gwen had only the crumbs, and the hints. Martha had undertaken a great journey, a mission, had saved the Earth amidst horrors, the memory of which made Jack wake up screaming. And in this cell, Martha's gaze was not shadowed, and she did not quake, and her pulse stayed calm.
All at once, Martha's eyes rolled up in her head as she fell to the floor, moaning and convulsing.
Gwen sprang to her feet. "Help! Someone help!" She rattled the door, or tried, but it was solid. She pounded her fists. Across the way, she saw Perry at the window. "Martha's sick! She needs help!"
Perry bellowed, his deep voice carrying further than hers: "Help!" Behind her, Martha's moans grew in volume.
Moments passed before Gwen heard footsteps running her way. Gwen kept shouting as two soldiers came to the cell door. "Please! I think she's having a seizure."
The first turned to his friend, who raised his rifle. Keys were dug out and Gwen stood back as the door swung open. The first came into the cell with them, went to his knees beside Martha's spasming body. "How long has she been like this?"
"Just a few minutes." Gwen cast scared eyes on the soldier with the gun, her arms flat at her sides. "Can you help her? Take her to the infirmary, something. Please, she's pregnant." And never mind what that woman threatened to do to her baby. She wished they'd both come in to check on Martha.
"Yeah," said the first soldier, who looked too young for this job. He nodded to his friend, who walked into the cell, lowering his rifle.
He didn't see the kick coming as Gwen booted his rifle out of his hands and followed up with a fast punch to his face. Before his friend could stand, Martha had grabbed his neck, throwing him to the ground and seating herself on his chest, arms at his throat, cutting off his windpipe.
The other guard struck out at Gwen's abdomen, but she had an elbow for his jaw, and she was faster grabbing for his gun. Seconds later, she was above him with the rifle pointed at his head.
"All right, you two, into the cell and we won't shoot you." Martha climbed off the gasping man, and his friend slowly moved into the cell. "Martha, get his keys."
"You'll be fine," Martha said. "I prescribe about twenty minutes of rest and a new career option." She grasped the key ring and locked the cell door as Gwen covered the guards. They hurried across to the other cell. "Time to go, boys."
Moments later, Perry and Jack joined them in the corridor. Gwen kept her gun. She nodded to the next set of cells. "Johnson?"
"Leave her," Perry said, and Jack said, "Give her the keys."
Martha unlocked Johnson's cell but did not open the door. Gwen said, "Come or go, we're not staying for you."
Jack came up beside Gwen. "Did you have more of a plan than get the gun and get out of the cells?"
"I figured you'd improvise something."
Perry said, "Never mind, I'm going back to my cell."
"More your arse," said Johnson, coming out of hers. "This way." Without waiting, she struck out in a different direction than the guards had brought them.
Gwen looked at Jack, but Jack wasn't in a place where he could make decisions, and he followed Johnson. "They're going to be here any minute," he said in a low voice. "Do whatever you have to and get Martha and Perry out. Don't stop for me, don't worry about me, just take whatever opening you get. I want the three of you safe. Understood?" He placed a hand on her shoulder like a robe, like a mantle. How many times had he left her in charge in his absence? What absence was he planning this time?
"We need you with us." She kept her voice as low.
"Get them out," he repeated, and Gwen recognised an order when she heard one.
Voices up ahead prevented her from responding. Jack waved them back behind the last corner. Johnson stayed put in the centre of the hallway, arms folded. He gestured at her to no avail, then joined Gwen around the corner.
"Conserve your bullets," he mouthed at her. She nodded.
"Halt!" said a voice from Johnson's position.
"You idiots, the prisoners have escaped." Her voice dripped derision and authority. Even Gwen felt her own spine straightening in fear. "They went out the other end of the prison block. They're armed."
"Ma'am?" asked someone. "What's going on?"
"I just told you. The prisoners escaped because someone was stupid enough to leave the cells unlocked. Go to the other end and you might not find yourself on the wrong end of a hearing!"
"Yes, ma'am." The footsteps hurried in the other direction, away from them.
The four of them shared a glance as Jack quietly counted to fifteen. "Come on."
Johnson was gone, as were most of the guards. One lone guard remained on duty outside the cellblock. Unfortunately, he saw them as soon as they saw him, and his weapon was already up. Jack fronted the group as a decoy. Gwen watched the bullets slam into him, and her own took out the guard's shoulder as Jack fell dead to the floor.
She stood over the stricken guard as he clutched his wound. "Tell us the way out. Do it now or your other shoulder will match and I can aim lower."
He didn't answer, only lay there whimpering, watching her with scared eyes. Gwen steeled herself. She could do this. She'd shot people, shot aliens. Most of the time, they'd been shooting back.
Behind her, Martha huffed as she helped Perry lift Jack's body to a half-carry. Martha was tiny, and Perry wasn't a big man. Gwen prayed Jack came around quickly. She shifted her hold on her gun. "You have to the count of five to tell us the way out. One. Four."
The door beyond them opened, and Gwen cursed. She raised her gun. She wasn't going back without a good fight. Gwen had faced down Daleks and Cybermen.
"Stay behind me!" she said to the rest. She aimed.
"Don't you dare shoot me, Gwen Cooper, you daft woman!"
Shock ran through her. She lowered the gun. "Rhys?"
***
Chapter Six