Fic: Snapshots
Mica Davies is special.
She knew she was. Not because sometimes Mrs Griffiths would look at her books and give her a sticker, then go on and on about ‘potential’ and ‘effort’ and making something of herself. And not because after the funeral, her dad had pulled her and David close (her dad who was good at racing on the computer and piggyback rides round the house and funny faces) and told them that they were good and special and needed to help Mum for the next little while. Not because her mum had started looking at her (usually when she got up from in front of the telly, something she’s started doing more and more since her uncle died, and went to boss her brother around or find out what her dad’s latest scheme is) and sighing and telling her she was sensible, just like Ianto. And not even because Gwen Cooper (Gwen who has a gun and fights soldiers and aliens and everything) came round every week to play with her and David, or take them out for ice-cream. Sometimes she came round at other times to sit with Mica by herself and tell her stories about her uncle, little things that made them both laugh. Mica knew she was special because of The Man.
The Man always appeared when she was by herself. She was worried, at first, that he always picked times when there was no-one around. She was more worried when he told her she couldn’t tell anyone about him. She wasn’t stupid and she knew that aliens weren’t the only danger out there. She’d heard people, adults as well as other kids, talk about Cerys Williams and she saw her stepdad being taken away by the police and heard the shouts and saw the stones and bottles people threw as he walked to the cop car. She heard her dad yell at her mum, months later, when she got ready to go to Cerys’s birthday, and even though they shut the door she heard her mum yell back that it wasn’t the kid’s fault and she’d been through enough and she deserved a party like any other girl. So she was wary those first few times he appeared, but then he showed her a picture of her uncle and he wasn’t wearing suits like he was in all the pictures Gwen has. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and he looked young; she realised, all at once, he was a real person - like her dad, like Uncle Mark from the pub who’s not a real uncle, like her friend Betty - and he was dead and even if he never properly belonged in her world, he belonged somewhere and he’s never going to get to go back there. She was crying, then, and The Man hesitated then hugged her and she forgot to be wary, to shout ‘fire’ like they teach you at school, or to kick him like her dad taught her at home, because she noticed he was crying as well.
Mica Davies thinks she’s really stupid.
But it was all that bitch Lizzie’s fault so maybe she wasn’t stupid after all, just really unlucky to be in Lizzie’s form at school. They hadn’t known each other before big school and they hadn’t liked each other from the start, but something changed between year 8 and year 9 and, when she went back after the summer, they were at each other’s throats. Lizzie, bloody Lizzie, had boobs and hips and a belly piercing and even though Mica knew she cold outsmart her, that didn’t seem to count for much at the moment. And even though Dad kept telling her he’d be beating the boys away with a stick for her, and even though Gwen, gorgeous Gwen, told her that it took her a while to grow into her looks and brought the pictures to prove it, it was The Man who always made her feel better. Because he told her that she looked like her uncle, and he told her that her uncle was beautiful. He told her that she was going to be just like Ianto, brains and beauty. So when Alan, who was supposed to be her friend, was going on and on about that cow, she told him that if he wanted he could go drool over tarty Lizzie, because she was beautiful and clever. That would have been fine if Lizzie hadn’t overheard and laughed and asked who’d told her that, because they were a dirty liar. She got mad, so she told Lizzie The Man had said so without thinking.
Even that would have been fine (it really would, because everyone knew Jade in year 10 has been seeing an older bloke for ages and no-one ever says anything) if Miss Morrison hadn’t come into the form room just then.
She’d tried to brush it off when Miss Morrison asked, "What man?" but it hadn’t worked. So she’d lied and said she'd made it up when Miss Morrison sent her to speak to Mrs Lamb, who does pastoral care, but she must not be a very good liar, because Mrs Lamb had called her mum and made her wait outside while they had a chat then sent her home to rest. Her mum and dad hadn’t believed her, either, when she’d tried to convince them. They called Gwen, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince her so she tried a different lie and told her that it was Alan who told her and she didn’t want to say, because he’s her boyfriend and they’ve been kissing and stuff and she didn’t want her mum to know. Then they had to have a really embarrassing conversation when Gwen asked if kissing’s all they’ve done, and didn’t believe her when she said yes. Gwen told her about respect, and waiting 'til she was ready, and being careful. She stopped before she got to actually talking about sex and the pill and things - which was good, because Mica didn't think she could have survived that conversation. Gwen still looked pissed off, but not like she did before, and Mica really hoped she wasn’t going to shoot Alan, because Dad had already been round to speak to his parents, and there's no way she could explain this to him, and he’d probably never speak to her again even though it was all his fault to start, him and bloody Lizzie.
She was up in her room and she wasn’t quite grounded, but she knew not to push her luck by asking to go out, when The Man appeared and smiled and gestured at her to be quiet, as if she were a kid that needed reminding.
“I’m not clever like Ianto now, am I? I bet he wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.” She remembered not to shout, just.
“He could lie better than you, but your uncle made some really stupid mistakes.” The Man smiled while he spoke and she thought she might cry. The Man grabbed her maths book off her desk and sat down next to her. “It’s been a while, but I’m sure I still know how to work some magic on simultaneous equations.” He went through her homework with her and then went through the rest of the book and found the interesting bits that she knew they’d never get to in class.
He went when her mum came up to check that she was going to bed, but he promised to bring more books when he comes back, maths and chemistry. Mum hugged her and tucked her in, even though she was too old for it really, but she knew it meant she wasn’t in trouble anymore.
Mica Davies suspects she might be going mental.
You could get away with having an imaginary friend when you were a kid, but she was fifteen and this was ridiculous. The Man was still appearing when no-one else was around. The last time, she asked him if he was real; he laughed and pulled out the chest she keeps under her bed with all the books he’d brought her over the years. He asked what the latest one, about maths and physics, said about reality and she was answering before she could stop herself. By the time he left they’d turned the theory over and she’d heard a new story about Ianto and something called a perception-filter, but he hadn’t answered her, neither the question she asked nor the questions beneath that - "Who are you? What was he to you that you keep coming here?"
Still, she treasured the books and the conversations she knew she couldn’t have with anyone else and, even more, she treasured any story about her uncle she could get hold of. She might be exhausting Gwen’s supply and she was never sure if asking about him would make her mum cry and The Man seemed to know things no-one else did. If she was losing it, she didn’t think she cared.
Mica Davies is realising how blind she’s been.
It all started with her birthday. She was having a proper party, upstairs at the pub, with a DJ and bar and everything. She knew Gwen had given her mum some money for it and she thought Ianto left some money to her mum that her mum was using. It was turning out to be the perfect party. Something her mum and dad, and Gwen and Ianto, were doing for her. And then The Man had brought her the most awesome dress. It seemed like it was made for her and he laughed and said it was, that her uncle would have wanted it that way. She had to sneak it out of the house and bring it back in a paper bag and pretend she got it from one of the posh vintage shops in town. Everyone who mattered had been involved in making her party happen and all of them would be there except him so she told him he should come. She told him he should be there, that everyone else was going.
The Man looked sad and hesitated before he answered. “I can’t. No-one can know I’m here.”
She was still barely more than a child, although she’d never admit it and it was the child that she’d only just left behind that spoke next. “It’s not fair. You miss everything, Christmas and birthdays and everything. You never get to be there.”
He looked away from her. “I don’t deserve to see it.” Then he was gone.
She didn’t understand what he could possibly have done that meant he had to cut himself off from everything like he did, but she knew that he’d be back, a couple of days after the party to hear all about it and tell her of other parties in different times and places. Maybe there would even be a story about her uncle.
In the end, he didn’t wait a few days; he came back on the night of the party. Some bloody party, in the end. Her bloody boyfriend and the town bike at it in the bogs at her birthday party. And she was the last to know. Ashley had seen them and told Stacey and then it spread round the room until it got to her best friend and Lizzie had come to tell her and she’d thrown her drink over the cheating bastard and ordered him out. She’d run out then, away from everyone looking at her. When she’d left, Rhys was holding Gwen back, reminding her that they were just kids. So she was in her room, crying and furious when he appeared. And the first thing she said was designed to hurt him.
“Don’t you bloody dare try and comfort me by saying I’m like him. I’m going to be just like him, alone and miserable.”
He looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Gwen told me about Lisa, about how she died and Ianto came back from London but she never talks about anyone after that.”
“He… there was someone.”
Oh, she thought, of course. That was why The Man kept coming back. He was that someone. She didn’t speak. Neither did he, for a while.
“You want to talk about it?” The Man asked.
“Not much to talk about, is there.” She might've had mascara all down her face and have been all blotchy from crying, but she wasn’t going to give either of them another thought. “My ex-boyfriend and some cow I didn’t even want to invite, Annie’s cousin’s friend, at my party. Actually at me party.” She looked at him to check he wasn’t laughing at her. “What would you do?”
“Me? Ask for an invite next time.”
She gulped down a giggle. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Days later she asked Gwen if Ianto ever had love troubles. Gwen looked surprised and a little sad and turned the conversation. So in the end, it was her mum who told her. Told her that before he died, Ianto had been seeing a man, that she was never to mention him to Gwen, that he’d been the head of Torchwood, that he’d left and never come back and broken Gwen’s heart, that his name was Jack Harkness. She’d realise that, of course, she’d heard the name before, that once years ago she’d eavesdropped as Gwen sat in the living room and sobbed and cursed Jack Harkness and her mum offered comfort and warm white wine.
Mica Davies feels proud.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her uncle, his memory, the stories she hears about him, the idea of him. She was happy when people compared her to him, the people who loved them both. And she knew that it was ridiculous to feel like she was in competition with a dead man, but she was still happy to have done something he didn’t, to have achieved, at least in one thing, more than he did. She’d never have a dashing hero travel through time and space to find echoes of her, she’d never get to die trying to save the human race - she knew, she’d already asked Gwen about a job at Torchwood. While Gwen was alive, she'd never be allowed on the front line. She would, though, graduate from bloody Oxford with a degree in Biochemistry.
“Taking in the view?” Jack asked.
She was stood, looking out at the bay. Not outside Torchwood, obviously, he’d never have gone there. She was at the marina, over in Penarth. “Something like that.” She smiled and turned towards him. “Don’t know why I felt the need, it’s not like I’m never coming back.”
He grinned, something old and sad in his smile. “Don’t be so sure. There’s a whole world out there for you to explore.”
“That sounds a lot like goodbye, Jack.” She wanted to say more, but stopped herself. She suspected that if she told him how much he meant to her, how much a part of her life he was, he’d never come back.
“Not goodbye, maybe farewell? You don’t want the olds breathing down your neck when you’re trying to enjoy campus life.”
She adopted a look of mock severity. “I’ll have you know I am going to one of the nation’s finest centres of learning to study, not to enjoy myself.”
He laughed and took her off for lunch. He didn’t say anything else about coming back, but she thought he would.
Mica Davies has stopped.
She knew they worried about her. They were so pleased when she graduated - even David, who laughed and yelled for his mates at the garage to come and meet his egg-head sister before she got too grand to say hello. More pleased still when she became Dr Davies. And then she came back home and the pride had turned to worry. She knew they hadn’t expected her to come home again. She thought they’d be happier if she hadn’t. Even Gwen, who’d sent a letter every week and a case of wine each month and torn her hair out at the thought of all the boys, and the odd girl, she wasn’t there to vet and intimidate into good behaviour, would be happier if she had stayed in London, albeit beyond Gwen’s watchful gaze. She knew they were waiting for her to do something, anything. She’d heard David tell Dad that all the studying has made her soft in the head. She’d heard Gwen tell her mum to give her time, that she was going to do great things. She couldn't tell them, though, that her mind was as sound as it ever was and that she would never do great things. She thought she’d probably seen the last of Jack. She saw him just before she came back to Cardiff, she knew that he watched her. Now he knew there were going to be no great deeds from her, there was no reason for him to come back. So she was surprised and not entirely pleased to hear his voice as she sat on the bank of the reservoir.
“Chip?”
“If you’ve come here to tell me I should be doing something, you can piss off.” He didn’t say anything, just sat next to her, and the tang of the vinegar reminded her how long it had been since lunch, so she reached over and took a chip. They finished the rest of the packet in silence.
“Not going to tell me I should be doing something with my life? That I’m letting down your precious Ianto?”
“No. And I bet no-one else has told you that, either.”
She hated the tone of sulkiness that crept into her voice. “It’s what they all think.”
“Wow, telepathy. Even your uncle never managed that one.”
She considered pushing him into the reservoir, but settled for walking back to her car. She realised he wasn’t following and told herself she was glad. When she saw him in front of her, leaning on the passenger side door, she told herself it was disappointment she felt. He got in before he spoke. “I think I told you once that Ianto made mistakes.” She stayed silent; if he decided to view that as encouragement, it was nothing to do with her. “He betrayed me, betrayed the rest of the team and endangered the entire human race. Then he betrayed me again and nearly brought about the end of the world.” She was glad she hadn’t started driving.
“What?”
“One of his mistakes. It got two people killed; it could have been a lot worse. He’d been lying in my bed, lying to me for months by the time I found out. Another time, he helped unleash a demon. He was so many things, good things, and we’ve all told you about them because they’re things you share with him. But he could screw up as well. You can screw up. Whatever you do can’t be as bad as the end of world.” She didn’t say anything, but when he opened the door to get out she reached over to kiss him on the check. “Ask Gwen about a research job with UNIT.” He closed the door and vanished.
She did ask a couple of days later and it was a research post, not a combat one and Gwen was so pleased that she’d shown some interest in something that she pulled some strings. Besides, by now everyone knew that something was coming, something bad. UNIT were advertising everywhere as part of a major recruitment drive. Even Torchwood had a website for prospective recruits. She met Martha Jones once, to discuss her new job, ignored the whispers that followed her when she first joined about how she was only there because of a family connection with the Director-General and resolved to show everyone what she could do.
Mica Davies is safe.
Well, at least comparatively. Two months after she joined UNIT, war had been declared, an all out invasion rather than an ultimatum: Planet Earth versus creatures out of nightmare, pouring from the sky.
People she worked with were researching on battlefields and in charnel houses, trying to find a practical application for their knowledge, playing catch-up with an enemy that was too far ahead of them. She’d been moved, Gwen pulling strings again, to a facility near Carmarthen. She spent 90% of her time in a bunker under Bryn Myrddin. After the devastating strikes on the US and China, that became 100% of the time.
She was watching the news in her room, picture after picture showing the horrors going on in the real world. Occasionally she saw Gwen on the broadcasts. Torchwood was closed now. The Rift and the alien flotsam and jetsam that washed through it were the least of anyone’s worries. Torchwood, along with national armies, the security services and police forces around the world had been merged with UNIT. Major Cooper had become Colonel Cooper had become General Cooper. Now she was Field Marshal Cooper, commander of the European sector forces.
When Jack arrived, he turned the television off. “It’ll give you nightmares.”
“We’re living in a nightmare, haven’t you noticed?” His only answer was to pull out a bottle of Scotch. It must have been from another time, because there were no resources here and now to devote to pleasure rather than survival.
“Do we survive, Jack? They say that UNIT high command have a doctor, a special doctor. They say he’s going to win this war for us. Do you think one man can make that much difference?”
She didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one. But she was surprised at how his face lit up when she mentioned a doctor. They talked of other things and drank and later she would look back on that night and think of it as the last time her happiness was innocent.
Mica Davies is mourning.
Gwen’s son was in command of the research centre. No-one muttered about family connections this time. They all knew that brilliant Major Williams was here so that there would be someone left to take charge if their current leaders fell. On her thirtieth birthday, Mica buried her brother. He’d joined up, of course. Not like her, safe in science, that way wasn’t for him. He’d joined up as an engineer, but he might as well have been an infantryman. Everyone knew Earth was losing. Joining up meant the front line, Earth forces were too stretched to hold anyone in reserve. She went back to Cardiff, even though her mum begged her to stay safe in her bunker. She didn’t expect to see Gwen, didn’t expect that she’d be able to get away. So it was nice that she was there, less nice that she was followed by news crews and TV cameras. Still, Mica understood the need for propaganda now, when everything hung by such a thin thread. She knew that UNIT didn't have the resources to fight two enemies; it barely had the resources to fight one. If the occasional riots turned into full-scale civil unrest it would be the end of everything. So she didn’t say anything as Gwen turned the funeral of a boy she used to know into a PR coup, a way to show the world that UNIT felt its loss. She went back to Bryn Myrddin that night, but didn’t head down to her room underground. Instead she went to sit on the hill and watch the stars among the battleships.
She felt his presence before he spoke. The night was cold and he was warm.
“Come back to us, Jack. We need you.”
She leant back into him, felt his warmth and his strength. He kissed her, a lover’s kiss. He took his coat off, spread it on the ground and she laid back.
“I’m not staying.” He reached out a hand to cup her face. She pulled him down.
“I know.”
They stayed on the hillside as long as they could; although the coat was warm, the night was cold. When she woke, in her bed, she still had the coat wrapped around her. She knew they were doomed.
Mica Davies is numb.
After the funeral, she stopped watching the news. She still heard things, of course; she had dinner with Major Williams once a week although she never asked if he was there, like her, in the hope of recapturing the feeling of their childhood, where they were safe and Gwen could protect them from anything. She learnt what she had already begun to suspect, that the Doctor couldn’t win this war for them. Even his brilliance wasn’t a match for overwhelming numbers and advanced technology. All he could do was harry their enemies and slow their defeat.
She didn’t see the news again until the day Danny, the most junior researcher left at the base, ran into the common room and turned it on. Gwen was there, urging calm, promising that UNIT was doing all it could to safeguard Earth. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes into the broadcast that she realised what had happened. An entire UNIT research base had been raided, the staff taken, including the Chief Scientific Officer, Martha Jones. It was a huge blow. Before now, ground forces had only made limited incursions onto Earth, most of the damage had been from aerial bombardment and most of the battles have taken place in the sky.
She saw Gwen once more, two weeks later, when she announced to the world that UNIT had recovered the body of Martha Jones and another scientist. Later she found out that all they recovered, all that was left to recover, was her head. The next time she saw Gwen, it wasn’t really her. It was a picture, in full UNIT dress uniform which she’d hate. It was the backdrop for the press conference the acting head of UNIT forces was giving. She didn’t go to the funeral. Gwen’s son was going, obviously, and so she needed to stay at the bunker to take command. She wondered if Ianto wasn’t the lucky one after all, if Gwen resented being the last one left. A month later, when Major-General Williams had settled into his new role and she had picked her own second in command, she took a 24 hour leave. There was no grave, but she headed back to Cardiff by boat and went to the Hub. She’d come armed but there was no need, she saw no-one. She wondered if she’d missed a notice about this area being contaminated, but, if so, it was already too late. She didn’t think she would try and persuade him to come back. If he wouldn’t for Gwen, who he loved for her own sake, he won’t for Mica, who he loved for the sake of a dead man.
Still, when he arrived, the first words she said were, “Come back to us, Jack.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You should stay here, Mica. When Gwen rebuilt, she made sure this place could withstand pretty much anything. I could bring food, supplies…”
It was her turn to shake her head. “I’m not you, Jack. I’m not running away.” She paused. “Would he have run away?”
“No. And he’s dead.” They sat in the deserted Hub with the Rift Dampener humming behind them and Jack managed to get one of the old computers working and pulled up CCTV from before. It was nothing special, hours of Gwen and Ianto and sometimes even Jack leaving the Hub and returning, day after day. They both sat, though, hungry eyes feeding on the screen. And it was dark enough that she could pretend not to see the tears on his face.
A month later, her dad died. He was one of the growing number of dead Home Guard, a result of the increasing frequency of land skirmishes. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the full scale occupation was in place. She laid on her bed, thinking, dry eyed.
Mica Davies is hopeful.
Work at the lab had long since shifted from weapons to anything that might help humanity survive among the stars. If they’d been earlier, if they had more time, she thought it might have worked. They could have abandoned Earth to the dead and run far away. They weren’t earlier, though, and they’re out of time. No retreat was possible, not for most people, not by human means. So she’d half been expecting the orders when they arrived. She was, after all, their most senior scientist now. If the Doctor was taking a seed colony to a new home, far away, it made sense to take the most brilliant. Major-General Williams was going though, so she turned down her place, pointing out that he was as capable of leading the scientific team as she was. She knew who they’d picked; a small UNIT Corps to keep order and deal with any new threats on their new planet, a scientific team with expertise in things like atmospheric science and agriculture to help them survive and prosper in their new home, and a sprinkling of practical skills like building and carpentry and a few administrators. The remaining places had gone to those who were in some way brilliant. She thought she remembered a time when that sort of coldness and calculation would have sparked a war, but she was very young then and the world had not learnt what horror was.
Everyone with a place on the voyage was young and fertile. She was the oldest at 34. She told UNIT high command that what they need was someone older, wiser. A mother figure who could remind the colony of their own mothers and make them strive to meet the expectations of those left behind. She knew just the person. Maybe they remembered Rhiannon Davies giving a eulogy at Gwen’s funeral that moved even battle-hardened hearts; maybe they remember that she was one of the founders of the Cardiff Mutual, an organisation that still provides the template for civilian support for the war effort. Or maybe they were just too tired to argue. Rhiannon Davies got a place on the expedition as its figure-head. Mica went to watch the preparation, gave a last minute pep talk to some of her people and checked the lab equipment was properly packed. She saw the Doctor at last. When he ushered everyone else out of the room housing his ship for their last night on Earth, she hung back, waiting in the shadows. There were things she wanted to ask, hints from Jack. She needed to know if he was truly powerless to stop this or if it was just something he had decided must happen, something he knew had already happened.
For once, Jack didn’t wait until she was alone to appear. But he hadn’t come for her, not this time. She stayed in the shadows as he stepped forward.
“Hello, Jack.” There was something in the Doctor’s voice, something in the air between the two men that set her teeth on edge. She wondered if the Doctor was yet another name on the list of the people Jack Harkness had left behind. “I thought you’d decided to stop being a coward.”
“Old habits.”
“You could come with me, Jack. The first human colony off-planet and you could be part of it.” The Doctor was trying not to beg, she could tell.
Jack said nothing. She could have told the Doctor that there was no point asking; Jack Harkness was never going to stop running. The Doctor looked at him for a moment before stepping forward. He hugged Jack, gently, as though he worried the other man might break. “Goodbye, old friend.” The Doctor turned back to his blue box.
Jack was there, with her in the shadows, the next day waving Hestia-I off. He was there with her two weeks later as the first pieces of debris fell back to earth and UNIT received a film that showed the destruction of the Doctor’s box, with the Doctor and the colony inside.
Mica Davies is ready.
Gwen’s legacy had been enough to keep her safe through nearly a decade of war, cloistered in her lab underground. There were only three of them, now, all that could be spared from front line functions. There was another lab out in India, but that wasn’t faring much better. She knew that if she did nothing, Gwen’s legacy would continue to protect her. Rhys Williams, newly appointed to the newly created post of First Minister of Earth was negotiating surrender: Slavery for most and subterfuge for a few. There was a plan to keep both labs functioning in secret with a small guerrilla force operating in each continent. It wasn’t UNIT’s plan, of course; they supported the First Minister’s negotiations. But UNIT’s people and UNIT’s facilities were part of it.
There was no reason she couldn’t live out the rest of her life underground, spared the horrors of the world above, hoping and working for something to set the human race free. The people who would lead the fighting units were so young, though. She wondered how many of them could remember the start of this war, how many were fobbed off with toys and games while their parents watched news channels reporting on the beginning of the end of the world. She'd known about aliens for longer than nearly anyone else left alive. In many ways she was a child of Torchwood. She shouldn’t be safe in this lab while others fought. If it wasn’t for Gwen and a dead man, she wouldn’t be here. It was time for her to step up.
When Jack arrived, she didn’t hear him. She saw him, briefly, and then she didn’t, because he was behind her, one arm around her neck, gun pressed to her temple. It was too fast and she couldn’t see any way to get free. “You aren’t a fighter,” he hissed at her. “You’ve got nothing to offer out there.” She thought about asking how he knew what she’d been planning, but didn’t bother. He pushed her away; she stumbled over a pack-bag he must have dropped. She decided to ignore what just happened, just as she decided to ignore the hope that was shredding her stomach.
“Luggage, Jack? That’s new.” He smiled, sad and so very old, took her hand and picked up the pack bag.
“It’s not mine.” He started to fade and she just had time to notice that he was holding something else in his hand when the world faded too.
She knew at once she wasn’t on Earth. The colours were wrong and there was an extra sun, but mostly she knew because she couldn’t smell the burning. “Take me back. Jack, take me back!” She didn’t need to see him shake his head to know that he wouldn't. “You can’t do this to me, Jack, you have no right to choose for me.” She sobbed as he pulled her close and kissed her forehead.
Later, when she was alone and had a headache from her tears and had run out of curses for him, she opened the bag. On top was a device that slid into life as soon as she touched it. It led her to the outskirts of a city, twenty minutes away. She found that as long as she was holding the device, she could understand what the planet's inhabitants were saying. When she fell asleep that night, she was still clinging to it in the way she’d seen the children of the house she’d been welcomed into clinging to their toys, in the way she herself had clung to a stuffed elephant, every night for months, when she’d been a child.
Mica Davies is done.
She was old now. She thought that she had had a good life, on balance. This planet had been her home for over 60 years. She’d realised, after the first wave of shock and grief, that she could get home if she really wanted to. This was a merchant planet after all and, although she couldn’t have found anyone willing to take her into a war zone, Jack left enough money that she could have bought a wreck of a ship, fit only for one journey and gone back. She didn’t. Sometimes she thought about her uncle. She was sure he would have gone back. She thought about his death. Sitting in the setting lesser sun, listening to the crickets sing, she wondered which one of them made the right choice.
She was a rich woman now. Jack chose well for her, this planet where science could turn a pretty profit if it served trade. She sometimes wondered what her mum would have made of the big house and the servants. Her own children found it amusing she wouldn’t let the servants tend to the great coat that she wore. Their own children teased them, she knew, about being the great Madame Davies’s most successful creation. The inhabitants of the planet were, after all, not human, and it took a great deal of effort in her lab for her to find a way to breed with her lover. Physically the races were compatible, spectacularly so. Jack had chosen well there, too. He'd never come back. Not since the day he left her here. She used to wish he would return, just once, so she could tell him that she'd forgiven him.
Occasionally she got newsdisks about Earth. The war was over, but from time to time a rebellion would break out. It was always swiftly suppressed, but she thought one day one might succeed. She scoured the pictures that came with the reports. They were propaganda shots, bodies piled high, designed to remind the humans of the price of disobedience, but for her purposes that was perfect. The first time she saw it, she was skimming the disk over coffee and thought she was seeing things. Since then, she’d checked every image of every Earth rebellion that she could find. Not in every one, but in well over half she saw a familiar face among the dead, blue eyes open.
She knew she was. Not because sometimes Mrs Griffiths would look at her books and give her a sticker, then go on and on about ‘potential’ and ‘effort’ and making something of herself. And not because after the funeral, her dad had pulled her and David close (her dad who was good at racing on the computer and piggyback rides round the house and funny faces) and told them that they were good and special and needed to help Mum for the next little while. Not because her mum had started looking at her (usually when she got up from in front of the telly, something she’s started doing more and more since her uncle died, and went to boss her brother around or find out what her dad’s latest scheme is) and sighing and telling her she was sensible, just like Ianto. And not even because Gwen Cooper (Gwen who has a gun and fights soldiers and aliens and everything) came round every week to play with her and David, or take them out for ice-cream. Sometimes she came round at other times to sit with Mica by herself and tell her stories about her uncle, little things that made them both laugh. Mica knew she was special because of The Man.
The Man always appeared when she was by herself. She was worried, at first, that he always picked times when there was no-one around. She was more worried when he told her she couldn’t tell anyone about him. She wasn’t stupid and she knew that aliens weren’t the only danger out there. She’d heard people, adults as well as other kids, talk about Cerys Williams and she saw her stepdad being taken away by the police and heard the shouts and saw the stones and bottles people threw as he walked to the cop car. She heard her dad yell at her mum, months later, when she got ready to go to Cerys’s birthday, and even though they shut the door she heard her mum yell back that it wasn’t the kid’s fault and she’d been through enough and she deserved a party like any other girl. So she was wary those first few times he appeared, but then he showed her a picture of her uncle and he wasn’t wearing suits like he was in all the pictures Gwen has. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and he looked young; she realised, all at once, he was a real person - like her dad, like Uncle Mark from the pub who’s not a real uncle, like her friend Betty - and he was dead and even if he never properly belonged in her world, he belonged somewhere and he’s never going to get to go back there. She was crying, then, and The Man hesitated then hugged her and she forgot to be wary, to shout ‘fire’ like they teach you at school, or to kick him like her dad taught her at home, because she noticed he was crying as well.
Mica Davies thinks she’s really stupid.
But it was all that bitch Lizzie’s fault so maybe she wasn’t stupid after all, just really unlucky to be in Lizzie’s form at school. They hadn’t known each other before big school and they hadn’t liked each other from the start, but something changed between year 8 and year 9 and, when she went back after the summer, they were at each other’s throats. Lizzie, bloody Lizzie, had boobs and hips and a belly piercing and even though Mica knew she cold outsmart her, that didn’t seem to count for much at the moment. And even though Dad kept telling her he’d be beating the boys away with a stick for her, and even though Gwen, gorgeous Gwen, told her that it took her a while to grow into her looks and brought the pictures to prove it, it was The Man who always made her feel better. Because he told her that she looked like her uncle, and he told her that her uncle was beautiful. He told her that she was going to be just like Ianto, brains and beauty. So when Alan, who was supposed to be her friend, was going on and on about that cow, she told him that if he wanted he could go drool over tarty Lizzie, because she was beautiful and clever. That would have been fine if Lizzie hadn’t overheard and laughed and asked who’d told her that, because they were a dirty liar. She got mad, so she told Lizzie The Man had said so without thinking.
Even that would have been fine (it really would, because everyone knew Jade in year 10 has been seeing an older bloke for ages and no-one ever says anything) if Miss Morrison hadn’t come into the form room just then.
She’d tried to brush it off when Miss Morrison asked, "What man?" but it hadn’t worked. So she’d lied and said she'd made it up when Miss Morrison sent her to speak to Mrs Lamb, who does pastoral care, but she must not be a very good liar, because Mrs Lamb had called her mum and made her wait outside while they had a chat then sent her home to rest. Her mum and dad hadn’t believed her, either, when she’d tried to convince them. They called Gwen, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince her so she tried a different lie and told her that it was Alan who told her and she didn’t want to say, because he’s her boyfriend and they’ve been kissing and stuff and she didn’t want her mum to know. Then they had to have a really embarrassing conversation when Gwen asked if kissing’s all they’ve done, and didn’t believe her when she said yes. Gwen told her about respect, and waiting 'til she was ready, and being careful. She stopped before she got to actually talking about sex and the pill and things - which was good, because Mica didn't think she could have survived that conversation. Gwen still looked pissed off, but not like she did before, and Mica really hoped she wasn’t going to shoot Alan, because Dad had already been round to speak to his parents, and there's no way she could explain this to him, and he’d probably never speak to her again even though it was all his fault to start, him and bloody Lizzie.
She was up in her room and she wasn’t quite grounded, but she knew not to push her luck by asking to go out, when The Man appeared and smiled and gestured at her to be quiet, as if she were a kid that needed reminding.
“I’m not clever like Ianto now, am I? I bet he wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.” She remembered not to shout, just.
“He could lie better than you, but your uncle made some really stupid mistakes.” The Man smiled while he spoke and she thought she might cry. The Man grabbed her maths book off her desk and sat down next to her. “It’s been a while, but I’m sure I still know how to work some magic on simultaneous equations.” He went through her homework with her and then went through the rest of the book and found the interesting bits that she knew they’d never get to in class.
He went when her mum came up to check that she was going to bed, but he promised to bring more books when he comes back, maths and chemistry. Mum hugged her and tucked her in, even though she was too old for it really, but she knew it meant she wasn’t in trouble anymore.
Mica Davies suspects she might be going mental.
You could get away with having an imaginary friend when you were a kid, but she was fifteen and this was ridiculous. The Man was still appearing when no-one else was around. The last time, she asked him if he was real; he laughed and pulled out the chest she keeps under her bed with all the books he’d brought her over the years. He asked what the latest one, about maths and physics, said about reality and she was answering before she could stop herself. By the time he left they’d turned the theory over and she’d heard a new story about Ianto and something called a perception-filter, but he hadn’t answered her, neither the question she asked nor the questions beneath that - "Who are you? What was he to you that you keep coming here?"
Still, she treasured the books and the conversations she knew she couldn’t have with anyone else and, even more, she treasured any story about her uncle she could get hold of. She might be exhausting Gwen’s supply and she was never sure if asking about him would make her mum cry and The Man seemed to know things no-one else did. If she was losing it, she didn’t think she cared.
Mica Davies is realising how blind she’s been.
It all started with her birthday. She was having a proper party, upstairs at the pub, with a DJ and bar and everything. She knew Gwen had given her mum some money for it and she thought Ianto left some money to her mum that her mum was using. It was turning out to be the perfect party. Something her mum and dad, and Gwen and Ianto, were doing for her. And then The Man had brought her the most awesome dress. It seemed like it was made for her and he laughed and said it was, that her uncle would have wanted it that way. She had to sneak it out of the house and bring it back in a paper bag and pretend she got it from one of the posh vintage shops in town. Everyone who mattered had been involved in making her party happen and all of them would be there except him so she told him he should come. She told him he should be there, that everyone else was going.
The Man looked sad and hesitated before he answered. “I can’t. No-one can know I’m here.”
She was still barely more than a child, although she’d never admit it and it was the child that she’d only just left behind that spoke next. “It’s not fair. You miss everything, Christmas and birthdays and everything. You never get to be there.”
He looked away from her. “I don’t deserve to see it.” Then he was gone.
She didn’t understand what he could possibly have done that meant he had to cut himself off from everything like he did, but she knew that he’d be back, a couple of days after the party to hear all about it and tell her of other parties in different times and places. Maybe there would even be a story about her uncle.
In the end, he didn’t wait a few days; he came back on the night of the party. Some bloody party, in the end. Her bloody boyfriend and the town bike at it in the bogs at her birthday party. And she was the last to know. Ashley had seen them and told Stacey and then it spread round the room until it got to her best friend and Lizzie had come to tell her and she’d thrown her drink over the cheating bastard and ordered him out. She’d run out then, away from everyone looking at her. When she’d left, Rhys was holding Gwen back, reminding her that they were just kids. So she was in her room, crying and furious when he appeared. And the first thing she said was designed to hurt him.
“Don’t you bloody dare try and comfort me by saying I’m like him. I’m going to be just like him, alone and miserable.”
He looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Gwen told me about Lisa, about how she died and Ianto came back from London but she never talks about anyone after that.”
“He… there was someone.”
Oh, she thought, of course. That was why The Man kept coming back. He was that someone. She didn’t speak. Neither did he, for a while.
“You want to talk about it?” The Man asked.
“Not much to talk about, is there.” She might've had mascara all down her face and have been all blotchy from crying, but she wasn’t going to give either of them another thought. “My ex-boyfriend and some cow I didn’t even want to invite, Annie’s cousin’s friend, at my party. Actually at me party.” She looked at him to check he wasn’t laughing at her. “What would you do?”
“Me? Ask for an invite next time.”
She gulped down a giggle. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Days later she asked Gwen if Ianto ever had love troubles. Gwen looked surprised and a little sad and turned the conversation. So in the end, it was her mum who told her. Told her that before he died, Ianto had been seeing a man, that she was never to mention him to Gwen, that he’d been the head of Torchwood, that he’d left and never come back and broken Gwen’s heart, that his name was Jack Harkness. She’d realise that, of course, she’d heard the name before, that once years ago she’d eavesdropped as Gwen sat in the living room and sobbed and cursed Jack Harkness and her mum offered comfort and warm white wine.
Mica Davies feels proud.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her uncle, his memory, the stories she hears about him, the idea of him. She was happy when people compared her to him, the people who loved them both. And she knew that it was ridiculous to feel like she was in competition with a dead man, but she was still happy to have done something he didn’t, to have achieved, at least in one thing, more than he did. She’d never have a dashing hero travel through time and space to find echoes of her, she’d never get to die trying to save the human race - she knew, she’d already asked Gwen about a job at Torchwood. While Gwen was alive, she'd never be allowed on the front line. She would, though, graduate from bloody Oxford with a degree in Biochemistry.
“Taking in the view?” Jack asked.
She was stood, looking out at the bay. Not outside Torchwood, obviously, he’d never have gone there. She was at the marina, over in Penarth. “Something like that.” She smiled and turned towards him. “Don’t know why I felt the need, it’s not like I’m never coming back.”
He grinned, something old and sad in his smile. “Don’t be so sure. There’s a whole world out there for you to explore.”
“That sounds a lot like goodbye, Jack.” She wanted to say more, but stopped herself. She suspected that if she told him how much he meant to her, how much a part of her life he was, he’d never come back.
“Not goodbye, maybe farewell? You don’t want the olds breathing down your neck when you’re trying to enjoy campus life.”
She adopted a look of mock severity. “I’ll have you know I am going to one of the nation’s finest centres of learning to study, not to enjoy myself.”
He laughed and took her off for lunch. He didn’t say anything else about coming back, but she thought he would.
Mica Davies has stopped.
She knew they worried about her. They were so pleased when she graduated - even David, who laughed and yelled for his mates at the garage to come and meet his egg-head sister before she got too grand to say hello. More pleased still when she became Dr Davies. And then she came back home and the pride had turned to worry. She knew they hadn’t expected her to come home again. She thought they’d be happier if she hadn’t. Even Gwen, who’d sent a letter every week and a case of wine each month and torn her hair out at the thought of all the boys, and the odd girl, she wasn’t there to vet and intimidate into good behaviour, would be happier if she had stayed in London, albeit beyond Gwen’s watchful gaze. She knew they were waiting for her to do something, anything. She’d heard David tell Dad that all the studying has made her soft in the head. She’d heard Gwen tell her mum to give her time, that she was going to do great things. She couldn't tell them, though, that her mind was as sound as it ever was and that she would never do great things. She thought she’d probably seen the last of Jack. She saw him just before she came back to Cardiff, she knew that he watched her. Now he knew there were going to be no great deeds from her, there was no reason for him to come back. So she was surprised and not entirely pleased to hear his voice as she sat on the bank of the reservoir.
“Chip?”
“If you’ve come here to tell me I should be doing something, you can piss off.” He didn’t say anything, just sat next to her, and the tang of the vinegar reminded her how long it had been since lunch, so she reached over and took a chip. They finished the rest of the packet in silence.
“Not going to tell me I should be doing something with my life? That I’m letting down your precious Ianto?”
“No. And I bet no-one else has told you that, either.”
She hated the tone of sulkiness that crept into her voice. “It’s what they all think.”
“Wow, telepathy. Even your uncle never managed that one.”
She considered pushing him into the reservoir, but settled for walking back to her car. She realised he wasn’t following and told herself she was glad. When she saw him in front of her, leaning on the passenger side door, she told herself it was disappointment she felt. He got in before he spoke. “I think I told you once that Ianto made mistakes.” She stayed silent; if he decided to view that as encouragement, it was nothing to do with her. “He betrayed me, betrayed the rest of the team and endangered the entire human race. Then he betrayed me again and nearly brought about the end of the world.” She was glad she hadn’t started driving.
“What?”
“One of his mistakes. It got two people killed; it could have been a lot worse. He’d been lying in my bed, lying to me for months by the time I found out. Another time, he helped unleash a demon. He was so many things, good things, and we’ve all told you about them because they’re things you share with him. But he could screw up as well. You can screw up. Whatever you do can’t be as bad as the end of world.” She didn’t say anything, but when he opened the door to get out she reached over to kiss him on the check. “Ask Gwen about a research job with UNIT.” He closed the door and vanished.
She did ask a couple of days later and it was a research post, not a combat one and Gwen was so pleased that she’d shown some interest in something that she pulled some strings. Besides, by now everyone knew that something was coming, something bad. UNIT were advertising everywhere as part of a major recruitment drive. Even Torchwood had a website for prospective recruits. She met Martha Jones once, to discuss her new job, ignored the whispers that followed her when she first joined about how she was only there because of a family connection with the Director-General and resolved to show everyone what she could do.
Mica Davies is safe.
Well, at least comparatively. Two months after she joined UNIT, war had been declared, an all out invasion rather than an ultimatum: Planet Earth versus creatures out of nightmare, pouring from the sky.
People she worked with were researching on battlefields and in charnel houses, trying to find a practical application for their knowledge, playing catch-up with an enemy that was too far ahead of them. She’d been moved, Gwen pulling strings again, to a facility near Carmarthen. She spent 90% of her time in a bunker under Bryn Myrddin. After the devastating strikes on the US and China, that became 100% of the time.
She was watching the news in her room, picture after picture showing the horrors going on in the real world. Occasionally she saw Gwen on the broadcasts. Torchwood was closed now. The Rift and the alien flotsam and jetsam that washed through it were the least of anyone’s worries. Torchwood, along with national armies, the security services and police forces around the world had been merged with UNIT. Major Cooper had become Colonel Cooper had become General Cooper. Now she was Field Marshal Cooper, commander of the European sector forces.
When Jack arrived, he turned the television off. “It’ll give you nightmares.”
“We’re living in a nightmare, haven’t you noticed?” His only answer was to pull out a bottle of Scotch. It must have been from another time, because there were no resources here and now to devote to pleasure rather than survival.
“Do we survive, Jack? They say that UNIT high command have a doctor, a special doctor. They say he’s going to win this war for us. Do you think one man can make that much difference?”
She didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one. But she was surprised at how his face lit up when she mentioned a doctor. They talked of other things and drank and later she would look back on that night and think of it as the last time her happiness was innocent.
Mica Davies is mourning.
Gwen’s son was in command of the research centre. No-one muttered about family connections this time. They all knew that brilliant Major Williams was here so that there would be someone left to take charge if their current leaders fell. On her thirtieth birthday, Mica buried her brother. He’d joined up, of course. Not like her, safe in science, that way wasn’t for him. He’d joined up as an engineer, but he might as well have been an infantryman. Everyone knew Earth was losing. Joining up meant the front line, Earth forces were too stretched to hold anyone in reserve. She went back to Cardiff, even though her mum begged her to stay safe in her bunker. She didn’t expect to see Gwen, didn’t expect that she’d be able to get away. So it was nice that she was there, less nice that she was followed by news crews and TV cameras. Still, Mica understood the need for propaganda now, when everything hung by such a thin thread. She knew that UNIT didn't have the resources to fight two enemies; it barely had the resources to fight one. If the occasional riots turned into full-scale civil unrest it would be the end of everything. So she didn’t say anything as Gwen turned the funeral of a boy she used to know into a PR coup, a way to show the world that UNIT felt its loss. She went back to Bryn Myrddin that night, but didn’t head down to her room underground. Instead she went to sit on the hill and watch the stars among the battleships.
She felt his presence before he spoke. The night was cold and he was warm.
“Come back to us, Jack. We need you.”
She leant back into him, felt his warmth and his strength. He kissed her, a lover’s kiss. He took his coat off, spread it on the ground and she laid back.
“I’m not staying.” He reached out a hand to cup her face. She pulled him down.
“I know.”
They stayed on the hillside as long as they could; although the coat was warm, the night was cold. When she woke, in her bed, she still had the coat wrapped around her. She knew they were doomed.
Mica Davies is numb.
After the funeral, she stopped watching the news. She still heard things, of course; she had dinner with Major Williams once a week although she never asked if he was there, like her, in the hope of recapturing the feeling of their childhood, where they were safe and Gwen could protect them from anything. She learnt what she had already begun to suspect, that the Doctor couldn’t win this war for them. Even his brilliance wasn’t a match for overwhelming numbers and advanced technology. All he could do was harry their enemies and slow their defeat.
She didn’t see the news again until the day Danny, the most junior researcher left at the base, ran into the common room and turned it on. Gwen was there, urging calm, promising that UNIT was doing all it could to safeguard Earth. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes into the broadcast that she realised what had happened. An entire UNIT research base had been raided, the staff taken, including the Chief Scientific Officer, Martha Jones. It was a huge blow. Before now, ground forces had only made limited incursions onto Earth, most of the damage had been from aerial bombardment and most of the battles have taken place in the sky.
She saw Gwen once more, two weeks later, when she announced to the world that UNIT had recovered the body of Martha Jones and another scientist. Later she found out that all they recovered, all that was left to recover, was her head. The next time she saw Gwen, it wasn’t really her. It was a picture, in full UNIT dress uniform which she’d hate. It was the backdrop for the press conference the acting head of UNIT forces was giving. She didn’t go to the funeral. Gwen’s son was going, obviously, and so she needed to stay at the bunker to take command. She wondered if Ianto wasn’t the lucky one after all, if Gwen resented being the last one left. A month later, when Major-General Williams had settled into his new role and she had picked her own second in command, she took a 24 hour leave. There was no grave, but she headed back to Cardiff by boat and went to the Hub. She’d come armed but there was no need, she saw no-one. She wondered if she’d missed a notice about this area being contaminated, but, if so, it was already too late. She didn’t think she would try and persuade him to come back. If he wouldn’t for Gwen, who he loved for her own sake, he won’t for Mica, who he loved for the sake of a dead man.
Still, when he arrived, the first words she said were, “Come back to us, Jack.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You should stay here, Mica. When Gwen rebuilt, she made sure this place could withstand pretty much anything. I could bring food, supplies…”
It was her turn to shake her head. “I’m not you, Jack. I’m not running away.” She paused. “Would he have run away?”
“No. And he’s dead.” They sat in the deserted Hub with the Rift Dampener humming behind them and Jack managed to get one of the old computers working and pulled up CCTV from before. It was nothing special, hours of Gwen and Ianto and sometimes even Jack leaving the Hub and returning, day after day. They both sat, though, hungry eyes feeding on the screen. And it was dark enough that she could pretend not to see the tears on his face.
A month later, her dad died. He was one of the growing number of dead Home Guard, a result of the increasing frequency of land skirmishes. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the full scale occupation was in place. She laid on her bed, thinking, dry eyed.
Mica Davies is hopeful.
Work at the lab had long since shifted from weapons to anything that might help humanity survive among the stars. If they’d been earlier, if they had more time, she thought it might have worked. They could have abandoned Earth to the dead and run far away. They weren’t earlier, though, and they’re out of time. No retreat was possible, not for most people, not by human means. So she’d half been expecting the orders when they arrived. She was, after all, their most senior scientist now. If the Doctor was taking a seed colony to a new home, far away, it made sense to take the most brilliant. Major-General Williams was going though, so she turned down her place, pointing out that he was as capable of leading the scientific team as she was. She knew who they’d picked; a small UNIT Corps to keep order and deal with any new threats on their new planet, a scientific team with expertise in things like atmospheric science and agriculture to help them survive and prosper in their new home, and a sprinkling of practical skills like building and carpentry and a few administrators. The remaining places had gone to those who were in some way brilliant. She thought she remembered a time when that sort of coldness and calculation would have sparked a war, but she was very young then and the world had not learnt what horror was.
Everyone with a place on the voyage was young and fertile. She was the oldest at 34. She told UNIT high command that what they need was someone older, wiser. A mother figure who could remind the colony of their own mothers and make them strive to meet the expectations of those left behind. She knew just the person. Maybe they remembered Rhiannon Davies giving a eulogy at Gwen’s funeral that moved even battle-hardened hearts; maybe they remember that she was one of the founders of the Cardiff Mutual, an organisation that still provides the template for civilian support for the war effort. Or maybe they were just too tired to argue. Rhiannon Davies got a place on the expedition as its figure-head. Mica went to watch the preparation, gave a last minute pep talk to some of her people and checked the lab equipment was properly packed. She saw the Doctor at last. When he ushered everyone else out of the room housing his ship for their last night on Earth, she hung back, waiting in the shadows. There were things she wanted to ask, hints from Jack. She needed to know if he was truly powerless to stop this or if it was just something he had decided must happen, something he knew had already happened.
For once, Jack didn’t wait until she was alone to appear. But he hadn’t come for her, not this time. She stayed in the shadows as he stepped forward.
“Hello, Jack.” There was something in the Doctor’s voice, something in the air between the two men that set her teeth on edge. She wondered if the Doctor was yet another name on the list of the people Jack Harkness had left behind. “I thought you’d decided to stop being a coward.”
“Old habits.”
“You could come with me, Jack. The first human colony off-planet and you could be part of it.” The Doctor was trying not to beg, she could tell.
Jack said nothing. She could have told the Doctor that there was no point asking; Jack Harkness was never going to stop running. The Doctor looked at him for a moment before stepping forward. He hugged Jack, gently, as though he worried the other man might break. “Goodbye, old friend.” The Doctor turned back to his blue box.
Jack was there, with her in the shadows, the next day waving Hestia-I off. He was there with her two weeks later as the first pieces of debris fell back to earth and UNIT received a film that showed the destruction of the Doctor’s box, with the Doctor and the colony inside.
Mica Davies is ready.
Gwen’s legacy had been enough to keep her safe through nearly a decade of war, cloistered in her lab underground. There were only three of them, now, all that could be spared from front line functions. There was another lab out in India, but that wasn’t faring much better. She knew that if she did nothing, Gwen’s legacy would continue to protect her. Rhys Williams, newly appointed to the newly created post of First Minister of Earth was negotiating surrender: Slavery for most and subterfuge for a few. There was a plan to keep both labs functioning in secret with a small guerrilla force operating in each continent. It wasn’t UNIT’s plan, of course; they supported the First Minister’s negotiations. But UNIT’s people and UNIT’s facilities were part of it.
There was no reason she couldn’t live out the rest of her life underground, spared the horrors of the world above, hoping and working for something to set the human race free. The people who would lead the fighting units were so young, though. She wondered how many of them could remember the start of this war, how many were fobbed off with toys and games while their parents watched news channels reporting on the beginning of the end of the world. She'd known about aliens for longer than nearly anyone else left alive. In many ways she was a child of Torchwood. She shouldn’t be safe in this lab while others fought. If it wasn’t for Gwen and a dead man, she wouldn’t be here. It was time for her to step up.
When Jack arrived, she didn’t hear him. She saw him, briefly, and then she didn’t, because he was behind her, one arm around her neck, gun pressed to her temple. It was too fast and she couldn’t see any way to get free. “You aren’t a fighter,” he hissed at her. “You’ve got nothing to offer out there.” She thought about asking how he knew what she’d been planning, but didn’t bother. He pushed her away; she stumbled over a pack-bag he must have dropped. She decided to ignore what just happened, just as she decided to ignore the hope that was shredding her stomach.
“Luggage, Jack? That’s new.” He smiled, sad and so very old, took her hand and picked up the pack bag.
“It’s not mine.” He started to fade and she just had time to notice that he was holding something else in his hand when the world faded too.
She knew at once she wasn’t on Earth. The colours were wrong and there was an extra sun, but mostly she knew because she couldn’t smell the burning. “Take me back. Jack, take me back!” She didn’t need to see him shake his head to know that he wouldn't. “You can’t do this to me, Jack, you have no right to choose for me.” She sobbed as he pulled her close and kissed her forehead.
Later, when she was alone and had a headache from her tears and had run out of curses for him, she opened the bag. On top was a device that slid into life as soon as she touched it. It led her to the outskirts of a city, twenty minutes away. She found that as long as she was holding the device, she could understand what the planet's inhabitants were saying. When she fell asleep that night, she was still clinging to it in the way she’d seen the children of the house she’d been welcomed into clinging to their toys, in the way she herself had clung to a stuffed elephant, every night for months, when she’d been a child.
Mica Davies is done.
She was old now. She thought that she had had a good life, on balance. This planet had been her home for over 60 years. She’d realised, after the first wave of shock and grief, that she could get home if she really wanted to. This was a merchant planet after all and, although she couldn’t have found anyone willing to take her into a war zone, Jack left enough money that she could have bought a wreck of a ship, fit only for one journey and gone back. She didn’t. Sometimes she thought about her uncle. She was sure he would have gone back. She thought about his death. Sitting in the setting lesser sun, listening to the crickets sing, she wondered which one of them made the right choice.
She was a rich woman now. Jack chose well for her, this planet where science could turn a pretty profit if it served trade. She sometimes wondered what her mum would have made of the big house and the servants. Her own children found it amusing she wouldn’t let the servants tend to the great coat that she wore. Their own children teased them, she knew, about being the great Madame Davies’s most successful creation. The inhabitants of the planet were, after all, not human, and it took a great deal of effort in her lab for her to find a way to breed with her lover. Physically the races were compatible, spectacularly so. Jack had chosen well there, too. He'd never come back. Not since the day he left her here. She used to wish he would return, just once, so she could tell him that she'd forgiven him.
Occasionally she got newsdisks about Earth. The war was over, but from time to time a rebellion would break out. It was always swiftly suppressed, but she thought one day one might succeed. She scoured the pictures that came with the reports. They were propaganda shots, bodies piled high, designed to remind the humans of the price of disobedience, but for her purposes that was perfect. The first time she saw it, she was skimming the disk over coffee and thought she was seeing things. Since then, she’d checked every image of every Earth rebellion that she could find. Not in every one, but in well over half she saw a familiar face among the dead, blue eyes open.