Fic: Quelled or Quenched (4/?)
Title: Quelled or Quenched
Author: rev02a
Beta:comestodecember
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, language
Cast: Team, all canon parings, past Ianto/OC, Rhiannon & Co.
Disclaimer: Yeah, these situations, settings, characters, etc., etc are not mine.
A/N: The title comes from the poem “Binsey Poplars” by Gerard Manley Hopkins. This is AU.
Summary: Torchwood One’s mantra of “if it’s alien, it’s ours” may suit the dreams of rebuilding an empire, but does little for ethical concerns. In 1998, Captain Jack Harkness becomes aware of the imprisonment and experimentation on the Ambassador of the Forest of Cheem.
Back to Part Three
“I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.” -Willa Cather
November 24, 2007
Jack and Ianto met for lunch from time-to-time. Ianto had stories to tell from his cooking classes and Welsh language lessons. He filled Jack in on David and Mica’s progress in school and Rhiannon’s acclimation into society.
“Anyway, I want to go to IKEA,” Ianto explained. “I need stuff for the flat and…”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“I’d like you to come along. If you’re not busy.”
Jack grinned. “Oh yeah! We can try out all the headboards; we’ll find the sturdiest frame. Nobody likes the ones that squeak.”
Ianto blushed deeply. It spread across his face and down his neck. The vines of his hair became more pronounced and Jack noted that little buds of leaves appeared. He grinned. That was one serious blush.
“You lived in a dormitory, yeah?” he asked, determined to see how red he could make his friend. “Did you just do it and damn the torpedoes? Did people take turns to give some privacy?”
Ianto stared uncomprehendingly before grinning. The blush dissipated. “Nah, we just did it. There was no privacy, you know? They documented every time we used the loo.”
At this, Jack frowned. “The WC was glass?”
Ianto shrugged, “Into Torchwood, sure. We had a little privacy from our living area. But the dormitory was just separated by linens. Bruce, Sarah, and I shared a set of bunk beds and Rhia, Johnny, and their kids had another-“
Jack interrupted, “No one had their own bed?”
Ianto shrugged again. “It didn’t matter. We wanted to be close to each other anyway. It felt safer. Our seven, my family, had one little area. Everybody knew what everybody else was doing. Hell, Sarah was on the top bunk when we had sex. My sister was close enough that she could have held my hand while I got off.”
Jack’s lips quirked, a frown lined in his forehead and humor by his mouth.
“Jack,” Ianto said, exasperatedly. He reached across the table, around the saltshaker, and laid his hand over Jack’s. “It happened. It was awful, but I didn’t know any better then.”
Jack closed his eyes against another wave of guilt. “I am Torchwood, Ianto. I have been Torchwood for… way too long. I should have-“
“What?” Ianto asked, pulling Jack’s hand closer. “Barged into a guarded room and let us out? No way you’d have even made it to our floor, Jack. That place was heavily locked down. They made sure we knew it too. If you touched the door to leave the dormitory before lights out was over, you’d get shocked.”
“You were living a mouse maze experiment,” Jack mused, darkly.
Ianto apparently didn’t know what that meant, but carried on anyway. “One of the technicians, she donated her mother’s DNA for one of those clone experiments. She felt really close to the sapling that got the DNA. She slipped her some popcorn kernels. We didn’t know what it was, so the kids were throwing it. Eventually, someone threw it at the armed dormitory door. We figured out what it was shortly thereafter.”
Ianto smiled, widely. “Johnny went crazy. He decided he loved popcorn. Every time they’d take him out for a blood draw or something, he’d demand it. The damned moron got it, too.”
Jack smiled, his mood lifting as he listened. “What did you demand?”
Ianto’s smile turned sad. “My family’s safety. Didn’t work out like I wanted it to, of course.” Jack prepared to change the line of conversation, but Ianto carried on. “Sarah wanted books, always, always books. And a puppy or kitty, something fluffy. She loved animals-she’d never met one, but she was sure she’d love them all.”
“And Bruce?”
It didn’t hurt to use his name now, Jack could tell. Ianto smiled, deviously. “Lube.”
Jack let out a guffaw.
November 26, 2007
Jack had to admit that he was surprised to be able to get away from the Hub twice in one week. He was filling Ianto in on everyone’s pet projects as they drove to the store Ianto had requested. The more Jack talked however, the more Ianto looked concerned.
“Jack, may I ask you something?” he began.
“Anything,” Jack leered. “What have you got in mind? Ropes? Vibrators? Peanut butter?”
Ianto stared at Jack blankly. “Sometimes, I cannot follow your logic.”
Jack’s leer toned down into a grin. “I like sex, what can I say?”
“Color me shocked,” Ianto replied, blandly. “Honestly, though, isn’t Suzie’s project taking up a bit too much time? It seems to me… she’s getting a bit… obsessed. If you don’t mind me saying.”
Jack pursed his lips and slowed for a group of school children at the zebra crossing.
“It’s just a project. She’ll be fine,” he replied.
Ianto was silent. Jack turned to face him when the silence continued.
“What? It’s a project!”
“And sometimes,” Ianto said slowly, “projects consume people. They lose their humanity. They forget about ethics. Suzie sounds like a good person, but this Mitten is going to drive her to her grave.”
Jack let the SUV surge forward as his foot slammed onto the accelerator. He took the entrance into the roundabout a bit too fast. Ianto didn’t comment, but did cling to the handle on the door.
Ianto’s words haunted Jack all through the furniture hunt. He tried to be light and happy, but his heart wasn’t in it. Ianto didn’t press; he just accepted the silences when they fell.
When Ianto and his new flat full of furniture were delivered home, Jack excused himself. David had already located a hex key and was prepared to assemble something. Ianto seemed ready to indulge him.
At the Hub, Tosh was running some sort of program on one screen and watching Graham Norton on another. She muted the chat show and turned to face Jack. In the months since her release from the UNIT prison, Jack watched Toshiko come out of her shell. That stupid telepathy-assisting necklace had set her back, but she seemed to be adjusting again. Tonight, she smiled.
“How were the shops?” she asked, innocently.
Jack gave her a look. He could see through that fake curiosity. “Rhiannon and the kids are blooming and I think Ianto is finally finding his feet… roots… whatever.”
Tosh smiled. The scientist in her was interested in such a large-scale experiment, but the subject of it sickened her. In a moment of honesty, Jack had briefed them all on the Forest Project and on the survivors. One day, Jack had promised to introduce them.
Jack, however, quickly changed topics. “Where’s Suzie?”
“She and Gwen went for a girlie chat and a drink,” Tosh answered. “I offered to take the monitor.”
“And the Glove that Suzie has been working on?” Jack continued.
Tosh looked quickly to Suzie’s workstation. “I think she locked it up-“
Jack hurried to Suzie’s desk and opened the drawer. Yes, the Glove was there. Clearly, Ianto had been mistaken. If Suzie were truly obsessed, she’d cling to it. Yet, he had to be sure. Jack stared at the containment box, before lifting it out. He opened the box to check that the Glove was correctly stowed.
To his surprise, nestled next to the Glove was a knife made of the same metal. A cold chill ran down Jack’s spine. Without a word, he climbed the steps to his office and locked the containment unit into his safe.
When he rejoined Tosh, she looked concerned.
“Jack,” she asked, unsure of herself, “is everything all right?”
Jack flopped into Gwen’s chair. “I’m sure it is. Ianto said that Suzie’s experiments were beginning to sound like an obsession. I’ve decided that she needs a break from this project. She can reopen it later.”
Tosh looked at Jack thoughtfully. “Ianto is a wise man, it seems. You should listen to him more often.”
At that moment, the cog door sounded its alarm and rolled away to allow Suzie to enter.
“Hi!” she greeted, hurrying to her desk and opening the drawer that had housed the Glove. “I had this thought over dinner-where’s the Glove?”
Jack stood and replaced Gwen’s chair under her desk. “I have decided that you are taking a break from that project.”
Suzie snapped. “Jack, I’m really getting great data. I was able to achieve fifteen seconds of reanimation with the goldfish today. I just need more-“
Jack straightened. “No. That’s an order. Obsessions get people killed, Suzie. You’re taking a break from this project. You can come back to it later.”
Suzie bristled and prepared to fight, but instead, stormed out of the Hub.
Once the lights and alarms had silenced again, Jack looked to Tosh.
“I’d say Ianto was right,” Tosh offered.
Jack just nodded and headed into his office to make a phone call.
November 30, 2007
“It’s been one hell of a year,” Jack sighed, dropping onto Ianto’s newly delivered settee. He grimaced and pulled a history book out from the crack between the cushions. He laid it on the floor before continuing. “Canary Wharf, fairies, cannibals, all sorts of emotion and thoughts machines-and today, a guy selling an alien eye on eBay.”
Ianto laughed and handed his friend a glass of water. “No use asking about your day, then, eh?”
Jack smiled slowly. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a day like it. A dead man shoved Gwen out of the line of a moving car. A dead man, Ianto.”
David, who was using the new coffee table, looked up from his doodle to address Jack. “That would make him a zombie.”
Jack sipped his water. “At any other time, David, yes. But he wasn’t actually there, he was like a ghost doing one last good thing before he went away.”
Rhiannon joined the others, bearing a huge bowl of popcorn. Mica trailed after her.
“Ghosts aren’t real,” David continued, earnestly. He set down his marker.
Jack set his glass on the table and leaned down to face David. He had learned a long time ago that the easiest way to shut up a know-it-all kid was to show that he was smarter than they were.
“I think you’re right. I think Eugene was just a collection of emotive energy that exploded when his lady love was in danger,” he suggested, smugly.
David stared at Jack before asking, “Wouldn’t that change the dimension of his existence?”
Jack stopped short. He blinked in surprise. Ianto, however, seemed completely at ease.
“I think its plane, actually. Dimension would suggest travel. Plane is like maths.”
Rhiannon set the bowl of popcorn where everyone could reach it before grabbing a piece of paper and one of the markers.
“It’s like this,” she explained, drawing a rectangle at a slant, “any flat, two dimensional surface is a plane.”
“This table is a plane,” Mica asserted.
“Exactly,” Ianto replied.
“And,” Rhiannon continued, “in graphing…” she carried on to explain the very basics of geometry to her three and four-year-old children.
As she spoke, Jack leaned close to Ianto’s ear. “You’re fourteen now, yeah?”
Ianto cleared his throat. “Rhia and I are thirteen.”
Jack winced. He continued anyway, “And these two, how old are they?”
Ianto looked at his nephew and niece affectionately. “David is almost two, Mica is a thirteen months, I think.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to work out the dates. We never knew when they were exactly grown or birthed or whatever. We just guess. And, of course, growth time for each splicing was different. Bruce was two sproutings before me, but he looked younger than me.”
“A pair of infants are learning the basics of Euclidean geometry,” Jack observed.
Ianto leaned back into the sofa and smiled. “We’re grown to be intelligent. Sorry.”
Jack sipped his water, trying to make sense of this development.
“But,” David interrupted, “this doesn’t explain ghosts.”
Rhiannon pointed to the intersection of the two planes. “Here is where some planes meet. I suppose that if a ghost-or an emotive energy spike-was on this plane, they could intersect with our plane of existence.”
David stared at the drawing. Mica, however, stared at her mother in annoyance. She grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed it in her mouth.
“How do they decide to intersect?” she asked, as she chewed.
“When we speak, our mouth should be empty, please,” Rhiannon scolded. “And I don’t know.”
“Those light shifts,” David offered slowly, “at the Tower. The ones that happened outside the living area, the ghosts, were they intersecting planes?”
“No,” Jack replied, “from a different universe. If, this morning you looked at your bed and said, ‘I could make this, or not’ and you made it, you could alter the universe. What if you decided not to? How would that change things? The Cybermen from the Ghost Shifts came from a different universe, maybe the one where you didn’t make your bed.”
David and Mica looked at one another before Mica haltingly asked a question.
“In another universe, Daddy would still be alive? And Sarah? And Uncle Bruce?”
Jack looked quickly to Ianto and Rhiannon, who both sat very still, shell-shocked.
“Maybe,” he answered for them. “Or maybe someone else died for them. I have a friend who says the universe compensates. If 700 people had to die that day, then any 700 will do.”
David capped his marker slowly before setting it back in its case. He lined the colors up in ROYGBIV order. Mica played with the piece of popcorn in her hand.
“Who controls the universe?” David asked. “I hear some kids at school talk about God. They say God created the world and humans and trees, but Torchwood created us, the tree people.”
Rhiannon took a deep breath, but still looked close to tears. Ianto reached across the coffee table and ruffled David’s hair.
“Sometimes, kiddo, adults don’t know the answers to questions. Tonight, the only answers we have given you are possibilities.” He looked at Mica to include her. “Your dad, Bruce, and Sarah didn’t have to die. No one had to die that day, but they did. There is nothing you or I can do about that. I’m sorry I can’t fix that for you. I’m sorry it hurts.”
Mica crushed her popcorn. “If some emotive man can be on this plane, why can’t Daddy? I want him to be here for me!”
Rhiannon jumped up and gathered her daughter into her arms. Her hug was tight. “My darling girl, he’d be here if he could. But we don’t know how emoting works! Maybe he will one day, and he’s just saving up all his energy for a time you’ll really need him!”
“This does not mean you throw yourself in front of cars!” Jack clarified, looking at both children sternly.
David and Mica agreed, begrudgingly. Jack continued, “Your mum is right. Your dad is probably waiting to see you on a day that you really need him.”
The children seemed to accept this, but they were quiet for the rest of the night.
Well past their bedtime, Ianto helped his sister carry the sleepy children across the hall to their home. Jack took the opportunity to walk out on the balcony and inspect the inside of the greenhouse.
He had insisted that it have UV light, just in case Rhiannon or Ianto needed a hit of sun. Since it had been installed, however, Ianto had built up a small planter of soil. The sliding glass door behind Jack opened and Ianto joined him on the balcony.
“Beautiful night,” Ianto commented, watching the rain clouds gather on the horizon. He slipped his feet out of his shoes and pulled off his socks.
Jack watched him with hooded eyes. He shouldn’t, oh, he knew he shouldn’t, but the more he saw this man, the more he wanted him. Alex’s words from years before haunted him.
Ianto, oblivious to Jack’s thoughts, entered the greenhouse and slid his bare feet into the dirt. To Jack’s surprise, tiny roots unfolded themselves from the skin around Ianto’s feet. They buried into the dirt.
“That’s amazing. They’re like tentacles,” Jack noted.
Ianto laughed. “I don’t know about that,” he reached behind a potted plant and retrieved a lighter and cigarettes. “You mind if I smoke?”
Jack waved the concern off. “You hide them,” he commented.
Ianto shrugged. “The kids came home from school with anti-smoking social commentary. It was easier to hide them than to deal with the guilt.”
“Sounds like the British Women’s Temperance Association. Always preaching about the evils of men drinking,” Jack laughed.
“Let’s see,” Ianto offered as he drew on his cigarette. “That was, what, the 1870s? Where were you then, Jack?”
Jack forced himself not to react. “I don’t know what you mean?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Really? Because I think you were there, well, somewhere in the UK, during that time period, getting pestered by the BWTA about your rowdy pub brawls.”
Jack straightened and glared at Ianto. “What are you on about?”
Ianto rolled his eyes and ground out his half-finished cigarette. “I’m not stupid, Jack. And, you forget, I worked in the Tower’s archives. I know you can’t die and I know about some of your history. Why do you think I’ve had a sudden interest in World War I? I keep hoping you’ll tell me your stories… but you don’t.”
Jack stared at Ianto in anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ianto looked confused, and then glanced down at his feet. His roots drew up and into his feet and he climbed out of the dark gardening soil.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he began, walking toward Jack. “I’ve shared everything with you. I thought you’d like someone educated enough to understand your history if you wanted to talk. You’re family-“
“I am not your family, Ianto. And how can you, at thirteen and barely able to deal with current society, possibly be ready to hear my stories? How could you understand?”
Ianto looked hurt, but then suddenly angry. Then, his face settled into a blank mask. “I thought you would like someone to confide in.”
“If I wanted someone, I’d find someone. I’m not Bruce.”
The last sentence hit its mark, and Ianto stepped back as if stung. Jack spun around and marched into the flat. He grabbed his greatcoat and stormed toward the door. On a low table by the door, Jack noted an assortment of titles about the Great War and the Boer Wars. He glared at the titles before shoving them off onto the ground. Jack slammed the door to the flat as he exited.
As soon as he reached the bank of lifts, however, his anger had left him.
Had he really just reacted like that? If anyone was the immature teenager, it wasn’t Ianto. Jack ignored the lift and climbed the emergency stairs to the roof of the building.
The air and the height gave him a sense of freedom and a chance to think. Jack slowly organized his thoughts. Yes, he was attracted to Ianto. Yes, he wanted to have a family again. Ianto had offered his to Jack.
But did Ianto want Jack? It didn’t seem that way. Honestly, Ianto seemed to want a friend. He was still in love with Bruce, Jack was sure.
“I’m not Bruce!” rang in Jack’s ears. And, of course, Jack had proven that pretty well tonight. From Ianto’s description and stories, Bruce was not rash and angry.
He should go apologize. He should really go apologize.
Part Six has to be written, sorry for the upcoming delay.
Author: rev02a
Beta:comestodecember
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, language
Cast: Team, all canon parings, past Ianto/OC, Rhiannon & Co.
Disclaimer: Yeah, these situations, settings, characters, etc., etc are not mine.
A/N: The title comes from the poem “Binsey Poplars” by Gerard Manley Hopkins. This is AU.
Summary: Torchwood One’s mantra of “if it’s alien, it’s ours” may suit the dreams of rebuilding an empire, but does little for ethical concerns. In 1998, Captain Jack Harkness becomes aware of the imprisonment and experimentation on the Ambassador of the Forest of Cheem.
Back to Part Three
“I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.” -Willa Cather
November 24, 2007
Jack and Ianto met for lunch from time-to-time. Ianto had stories to tell from his cooking classes and Welsh language lessons. He filled Jack in on David and Mica’s progress in school and Rhiannon’s acclimation into society.
“Anyway, I want to go to IKEA,” Ianto explained. “I need stuff for the flat and…”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“I’d like you to come along. If you’re not busy.”
Jack grinned. “Oh yeah! We can try out all the headboards; we’ll find the sturdiest frame. Nobody likes the ones that squeak.”
Ianto blushed deeply. It spread across his face and down his neck. The vines of his hair became more pronounced and Jack noted that little buds of leaves appeared. He grinned. That was one serious blush.
“You lived in a dormitory, yeah?” he asked, determined to see how red he could make his friend. “Did you just do it and damn the torpedoes? Did people take turns to give some privacy?”
Ianto stared uncomprehendingly before grinning. The blush dissipated. “Nah, we just did it. There was no privacy, you know? They documented every time we used the loo.”
At this, Jack frowned. “The WC was glass?”
Ianto shrugged, “Into Torchwood, sure. We had a little privacy from our living area. But the dormitory was just separated by linens. Bruce, Sarah, and I shared a set of bunk beds and Rhia, Johnny, and their kids had another-“
Jack interrupted, “No one had their own bed?”
Ianto shrugged again. “It didn’t matter. We wanted to be close to each other anyway. It felt safer. Our seven, my family, had one little area. Everybody knew what everybody else was doing. Hell, Sarah was on the top bunk when we had sex. My sister was close enough that she could have held my hand while I got off.”
Jack’s lips quirked, a frown lined in his forehead and humor by his mouth.
“Jack,” Ianto said, exasperatedly. He reached across the table, around the saltshaker, and laid his hand over Jack’s. “It happened. It was awful, but I didn’t know any better then.”
Jack closed his eyes against another wave of guilt. “I am Torchwood, Ianto. I have been Torchwood for… way too long. I should have-“
“What?” Ianto asked, pulling Jack’s hand closer. “Barged into a guarded room and let us out? No way you’d have even made it to our floor, Jack. That place was heavily locked down. They made sure we knew it too. If you touched the door to leave the dormitory before lights out was over, you’d get shocked.”
“You were living a mouse maze experiment,” Jack mused, darkly.
Ianto apparently didn’t know what that meant, but carried on anyway. “One of the technicians, she donated her mother’s DNA for one of those clone experiments. She felt really close to the sapling that got the DNA. She slipped her some popcorn kernels. We didn’t know what it was, so the kids were throwing it. Eventually, someone threw it at the armed dormitory door. We figured out what it was shortly thereafter.”
Ianto smiled, widely. “Johnny went crazy. He decided he loved popcorn. Every time they’d take him out for a blood draw or something, he’d demand it. The damned moron got it, too.”
Jack smiled, his mood lifting as he listened. “What did you demand?”
Ianto’s smile turned sad. “My family’s safety. Didn’t work out like I wanted it to, of course.” Jack prepared to change the line of conversation, but Ianto carried on. “Sarah wanted books, always, always books. And a puppy or kitty, something fluffy. She loved animals-she’d never met one, but she was sure she’d love them all.”
“And Bruce?”
It didn’t hurt to use his name now, Jack could tell. Ianto smiled, deviously. “Lube.”
Jack let out a guffaw.
November 26, 2007
Jack had to admit that he was surprised to be able to get away from the Hub twice in one week. He was filling Ianto in on everyone’s pet projects as they drove to the store Ianto had requested. The more Jack talked however, the more Ianto looked concerned.
“Jack, may I ask you something?” he began.
“Anything,” Jack leered. “What have you got in mind? Ropes? Vibrators? Peanut butter?”
Ianto stared at Jack blankly. “Sometimes, I cannot follow your logic.”
Jack’s leer toned down into a grin. “I like sex, what can I say?”
“Color me shocked,” Ianto replied, blandly. “Honestly, though, isn’t Suzie’s project taking up a bit too much time? It seems to me… she’s getting a bit… obsessed. If you don’t mind me saying.”
Jack pursed his lips and slowed for a group of school children at the zebra crossing.
“It’s just a project. She’ll be fine,” he replied.
Ianto was silent. Jack turned to face him when the silence continued.
“What? It’s a project!”
“And sometimes,” Ianto said slowly, “projects consume people. They lose their humanity. They forget about ethics. Suzie sounds like a good person, but this Mitten is going to drive her to her grave.”
Jack let the SUV surge forward as his foot slammed onto the accelerator. He took the entrance into the roundabout a bit too fast. Ianto didn’t comment, but did cling to the handle on the door.
Ianto’s words haunted Jack all through the furniture hunt. He tried to be light and happy, but his heart wasn’t in it. Ianto didn’t press; he just accepted the silences when they fell.
When Ianto and his new flat full of furniture were delivered home, Jack excused himself. David had already located a hex key and was prepared to assemble something. Ianto seemed ready to indulge him.
At the Hub, Tosh was running some sort of program on one screen and watching Graham Norton on another. She muted the chat show and turned to face Jack. In the months since her release from the UNIT prison, Jack watched Toshiko come out of her shell. That stupid telepathy-assisting necklace had set her back, but she seemed to be adjusting again. Tonight, she smiled.
“How were the shops?” she asked, innocently.
Jack gave her a look. He could see through that fake curiosity. “Rhiannon and the kids are blooming and I think Ianto is finally finding his feet… roots… whatever.”
Tosh smiled. The scientist in her was interested in such a large-scale experiment, but the subject of it sickened her. In a moment of honesty, Jack had briefed them all on the Forest Project and on the survivors. One day, Jack had promised to introduce them.
Jack, however, quickly changed topics. “Where’s Suzie?”
“She and Gwen went for a girlie chat and a drink,” Tosh answered. “I offered to take the monitor.”
“And the Glove that Suzie has been working on?” Jack continued.
Tosh looked quickly to Suzie’s workstation. “I think she locked it up-“
Jack hurried to Suzie’s desk and opened the drawer. Yes, the Glove was there. Clearly, Ianto had been mistaken. If Suzie were truly obsessed, she’d cling to it. Yet, he had to be sure. Jack stared at the containment box, before lifting it out. He opened the box to check that the Glove was correctly stowed.
To his surprise, nestled next to the Glove was a knife made of the same metal. A cold chill ran down Jack’s spine. Without a word, he climbed the steps to his office and locked the containment unit into his safe.
When he rejoined Tosh, she looked concerned.
“Jack,” she asked, unsure of herself, “is everything all right?”
Jack flopped into Gwen’s chair. “I’m sure it is. Ianto said that Suzie’s experiments were beginning to sound like an obsession. I’ve decided that she needs a break from this project. She can reopen it later.”
Tosh looked at Jack thoughtfully. “Ianto is a wise man, it seems. You should listen to him more often.”
At that moment, the cog door sounded its alarm and rolled away to allow Suzie to enter.
“Hi!” she greeted, hurrying to her desk and opening the drawer that had housed the Glove. “I had this thought over dinner-where’s the Glove?”
Jack stood and replaced Gwen’s chair under her desk. “I have decided that you are taking a break from that project.”
Suzie snapped. “Jack, I’m really getting great data. I was able to achieve fifteen seconds of reanimation with the goldfish today. I just need more-“
Jack straightened. “No. That’s an order. Obsessions get people killed, Suzie. You’re taking a break from this project. You can come back to it later.”
Suzie bristled and prepared to fight, but instead, stormed out of the Hub.
Once the lights and alarms had silenced again, Jack looked to Tosh.
“I’d say Ianto was right,” Tosh offered.
Jack just nodded and headed into his office to make a phone call.
November 30, 2007
“It’s been one hell of a year,” Jack sighed, dropping onto Ianto’s newly delivered settee. He grimaced and pulled a history book out from the crack between the cushions. He laid it on the floor before continuing. “Canary Wharf, fairies, cannibals, all sorts of emotion and thoughts machines-and today, a guy selling an alien eye on eBay.”
Ianto laughed and handed his friend a glass of water. “No use asking about your day, then, eh?”
Jack smiled slowly. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a day like it. A dead man shoved Gwen out of the line of a moving car. A dead man, Ianto.”
David, who was using the new coffee table, looked up from his doodle to address Jack. “That would make him a zombie.”
Jack sipped his water. “At any other time, David, yes. But he wasn’t actually there, he was like a ghost doing one last good thing before he went away.”
Rhiannon joined the others, bearing a huge bowl of popcorn. Mica trailed after her.
“Ghosts aren’t real,” David continued, earnestly. He set down his marker.
Jack set his glass on the table and leaned down to face David. He had learned a long time ago that the easiest way to shut up a know-it-all kid was to show that he was smarter than they were.
“I think you’re right. I think Eugene was just a collection of emotive energy that exploded when his lady love was in danger,” he suggested, smugly.
David stared at Jack before asking, “Wouldn’t that change the dimension of his existence?”
Jack stopped short. He blinked in surprise. Ianto, however, seemed completely at ease.
“I think its plane, actually. Dimension would suggest travel. Plane is like maths.”
Rhiannon set the bowl of popcorn where everyone could reach it before grabbing a piece of paper and one of the markers.
“It’s like this,” she explained, drawing a rectangle at a slant, “any flat, two dimensional surface is a plane.”
“This table is a plane,” Mica asserted.
“Exactly,” Ianto replied.
“And,” Rhiannon continued, “in graphing…” she carried on to explain the very basics of geometry to her three and four-year-old children.
As she spoke, Jack leaned close to Ianto’s ear. “You’re fourteen now, yeah?”
Ianto cleared his throat. “Rhia and I are thirteen.”
Jack winced. He continued anyway, “And these two, how old are they?”
Ianto looked at his nephew and niece affectionately. “David is almost two, Mica is a thirteen months, I think.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to work out the dates. We never knew when they were exactly grown or birthed or whatever. We just guess. And, of course, growth time for each splicing was different. Bruce was two sproutings before me, but he looked younger than me.”
“A pair of infants are learning the basics of Euclidean geometry,” Jack observed.
Ianto leaned back into the sofa and smiled. “We’re grown to be intelligent. Sorry.”
Jack sipped his water, trying to make sense of this development.
“But,” David interrupted, “this doesn’t explain ghosts.”
Rhiannon pointed to the intersection of the two planes. “Here is where some planes meet. I suppose that if a ghost-or an emotive energy spike-was on this plane, they could intersect with our plane of existence.”
David stared at the drawing. Mica, however, stared at her mother in annoyance. She grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed it in her mouth.
“How do they decide to intersect?” she asked, as she chewed.
“When we speak, our mouth should be empty, please,” Rhiannon scolded. “And I don’t know.”
“Those light shifts,” David offered slowly, “at the Tower. The ones that happened outside the living area, the ghosts, were they intersecting planes?”
“No,” Jack replied, “from a different universe. If, this morning you looked at your bed and said, ‘I could make this, or not’ and you made it, you could alter the universe. What if you decided not to? How would that change things? The Cybermen from the Ghost Shifts came from a different universe, maybe the one where you didn’t make your bed.”
David and Mica looked at one another before Mica haltingly asked a question.
“In another universe, Daddy would still be alive? And Sarah? And Uncle Bruce?”
Jack looked quickly to Ianto and Rhiannon, who both sat very still, shell-shocked.
“Maybe,” he answered for them. “Or maybe someone else died for them. I have a friend who says the universe compensates. If 700 people had to die that day, then any 700 will do.”
David capped his marker slowly before setting it back in its case. He lined the colors up in ROYGBIV order. Mica played with the piece of popcorn in her hand.
“Who controls the universe?” David asked. “I hear some kids at school talk about God. They say God created the world and humans and trees, but Torchwood created us, the tree people.”
Rhiannon took a deep breath, but still looked close to tears. Ianto reached across the coffee table and ruffled David’s hair.
“Sometimes, kiddo, adults don’t know the answers to questions. Tonight, the only answers we have given you are possibilities.” He looked at Mica to include her. “Your dad, Bruce, and Sarah didn’t have to die. No one had to die that day, but they did. There is nothing you or I can do about that. I’m sorry I can’t fix that for you. I’m sorry it hurts.”
Mica crushed her popcorn. “If some emotive man can be on this plane, why can’t Daddy? I want him to be here for me!”
Rhiannon jumped up and gathered her daughter into her arms. Her hug was tight. “My darling girl, he’d be here if he could. But we don’t know how emoting works! Maybe he will one day, and he’s just saving up all his energy for a time you’ll really need him!”
“This does not mean you throw yourself in front of cars!” Jack clarified, looking at both children sternly.
David and Mica agreed, begrudgingly. Jack continued, “Your mum is right. Your dad is probably waiting to see you on a day that you really need him.”
The children seemed to accept this, but they were quiet for the rest of the night.
Well past their bedtime, Ianto helped his sister carry the sleepy children across the hall to their home. Jack took the opportunity to walk out on the balcony and inspect the inside of the greenhouse.
He had insisted that it have UV light, just in case Rhiannon or Ianto needed a hit of sun. Since it had been installed, however, Ianto had built up a small planter of soil. The sliding glass door behind Jack opened and Ianto joined him on the balcony.
“Beautiful night,” Ianto commented, watching the rain clouds gather on the horizon. He slipped his feet out of his shoes and pulled off his socks.
Jack watched him with hooded eyes. He shouldn’t, oh, he knew he shouldn’t, but the more he saw this man, the more he wanted him. Alex’s words from years before haunted him.
Ianto, oblivious to Jack’s thoughts, entered the greenhouse and slid his bare feet into the dirt. To Jack’s surprise, tiny roots unfolded themselves from the skin around Ianto’s feet. They buried into the dirt.
“That’s amazing. They’re like tentacles,” Jack noted.
Ianto laughed. “I don’t know about that,” he reached behind a potted plant and retrieved a lighter and cigarettes. “You mind if I smoke?”
Jack waved the concern off. “You hide them,” he commented.
Ianto shrugged. “The kids came home from school with anti-smoking social commentary. It was easier to hide them than to deal with the guilt.”
“Sounds like the British Women’s Temperance Association. Always preaching about the evils of men drinking,” Jack laughed.
“Let’s see,” Ianto offered as he drew on his cigarette. “That was, what, the 1870s? Where were you then, Jack?”
Jack forced himself not to react. “I don’t know what you mean?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Really? Because I think you were there, well, somewhere in the UK, during that time period, getting pestered by the BWTA about your rowdy pub brawls.”
Jack straightened and glared at Ianto. “What are you on about?”
Ianto rolled his eyes and ground out his half-finished cigarette. “I’m not stupid, Jack. And, you forget, I worked in the Tower’s archives. I know you can’t die and I know about some of your history. Why do you think I’ve had a sudden interest in World War I? I keep hoping you’ll tell me your stories… but you don’t.”
Jack stared at Ianto in anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ianto looked confused, and then glanced down at his feet. His roots drew up and into his feet and he climbed out of the dark gardening soil.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he began, walking toward Jack. “I’ve shared everything with you. I thought you’d like someone educated enough to understand your history if you wanted to talk. You’re family-“
“I am not your family, Ianto. And how can you, at thirteen and barely able to deal with current society, possibly be ready to hear my stories? How could you understand?”
Ianto looked hurt, but then suddenly angry. Then, his face settled into a blank mask. “I thought you would like someone to confide in.”
“If I wanted someone, I’d find someone. I’m not Bruce.”
The last sentence hit its mark, and Ianto stepped back as if stung. Jack spun around and marched into the flat. He grabbed his greatcoat and stormed toward the door. On a low table by the door, Jack noted an assortment of titles about the Great War and the Boer Wars. He glared at the titles before shoving them off onto the ground. Jack slammed the door to the flat as he exited.
As soon as he reached the bank of lifts, however, his anger had left him.
Had he really just reacted like that? If anyone was the immature teenager, it wasn’t Ianto. Jack ignored the lift and climbed the emergency stairs to the roof of the building.
The air and the height gave him a sense of freedom and a chance to think. Jack slowly organized his thoughts. Yes, he was attracted to Ianto. Yes, he wanted to have a family again. Ianto had offered his to Jack.
But did Ianto want Jack? It didn’t seem that way. Honestly, Ianto seemed to want a friend. He was still in love with Bruce, Jack was sure.
“I’m not Bruce!” rang in Jack’s ears. And, of course, Jack had proven that pretty well tonight. From Ianto’s description and stories, Bruce was not rash and angry.
He should go apologize. He should really go apologize.
Part Six has to be written, sorry for the upcoming delay.