Fic - Torchwood Big Bang: Shattered in Aspect 4/5 [PG-15] TW/HL/DW crossover
Title: Shattered In Aspect
Author: A Lanart
Beta: idontlikegravy
Artist: idontlikegravy
Characters/Pairing(s): Torchwood Team and CoE characters, Methos and Joe from Highlander: The Series, OFC and the Doctor.
Pairings: Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Methos, Jack/Methos, (background of Methos/Jack/Ianto)
Rating: PG-15 (M)
Word Count: 28,120
Warnings: It’s a non-fixit Children of Earth story - character Death. Lots of Angst; tissues might be required.
Disclaimer: Not Mine! Everything you recognise belongs to either the BBC or Panzer/Davis
Summary: Methos, Jack and Ianto deal with events - and each other - both during, and in the aftermath of the 5 days that changed their world.
Author's Notes: : Crossover with Highlander: The Series and Doctor Who (set in my ongoing AU, The Mystery verse).
Some dialogue from Days 2-5 of CoE is used in the fic.
The title is from the song ‘Shattered in Aspect’ by Faith and the Muse, as is the longer quote near the end. Other quotes are from the song ‘No Time to Cry’ by the Sisters of Mercy.
Each part takes place on a separate Day of Children of Earth, starting from Day 2 and continuing beyond Day 5.
Shattered in Aspect
Day 5
~*~
~ No time for breaking down ~
*
Jack sat quietly next to Gwen in what had been a cafeteria area, and was now just a place with seating near more of the ever present bodies that littered Thames House. He said nothing as Frobisher and his assistant joined them; couldn’t bring himself to care overmuch about them. Gwen still cared; Gwen cared too much and Jack couldn’t bear it. He steeled himself to meet her eyes as he told her to stand down, and call Rhys back. As she went to make the call, Jack felt obliged to ask Frobisher about Lois who’d risked so much to help them, but wasn’t surprised at the answer when he heard she was in custody.
“Then what about my daughter and her son?” Jack asked. There were few things left now that he could bring himself to care about, and fewer still over which he had any influence. Alice and Stephen were the foremost of those.
“They're free to go,” Frobisher replied.
Jack ducked his head and breathed a faint sigh of relief; he hadn’t dare hope for that. Maybe something good would come out of this after all. Then he remembered *why* he was sitting there, and raised his eyes again, ready to ask Frobisher the last thing on his mind.
“Ianto Jones, he's got family back in South Wales, a sister, has she been told?”
“We're not releasing any of the names, not yet.”
“Then let Gwen tell her. You said yourself the world is going to hell any second. Before it does, give us a moment of grace. Just take Gwen home, please.” Jack glanced over to Gwen where she sat on the floor, crying quietly into her drawn-up knees. His stomach flipped unpleasantly. “I can't look at her any more,” he added in almost a whisper. To his surprise, Frobisher agreed, but of course there was a condition. Jack consented to being put into custody without a second thought; he could do nothing now, even if he wanted to.
The blades of the helicopter caused his coat to whip around him as he gave Gwen one last hug before she left. It wasn’t the only thing he had for Gwen though. His lips were pressed to her ear, her hair a tangled mass around his face that hid what he was saying from view.
“They've got kids. Ianto's niece and nephew,” he murmured, then he squeezed her tighter for emphasis “Save them.” For Ianto, they had to try; it was all they could do. As the helicopter rose above London, his hope went with it, and he didn’t protest when he felt the snick of high-security cuffs around his wrists. There was no reason to fight.
The cell door clanged shut behind Jack, a forbidding sound that ran counterpoint to Lois’ frantic demands to know what was going on. She had every right *to* know seeing as she’d laid her job and possibly her chance at a normal life on the line for the sake of Torchwood while barely knowing who or what they were, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care, not any more. Her life probably had gone to hell but everything he touched seemed to turn to ashes sooner or later so he couldn’t really say it was a complete surprise. Once, he’d allowed himself to hope, to dream - not for a normal life, that was impossible - but for something *better*, something that could touch his heart and soul in a way that had so rarely happened in his life. He’d had it - and now he didn’t. His fault, *his* fault. All of it. The children. Ianto. Lois. The nameless, faceless others who had died with Ianto in Thames House who, like Ianto, shouldn’t have died. And more - back - further back. Tosh. Owen. Susie. Estelle. Lucia. Alex. Michael. More - so many more. Every name a reminder that try as he might, he ultimately failed. It was easy to ignore the small voice inside him - sounding suspiciously like Ianto - that whispered ‘what about Methos?’ as he’d been doing his utmost to ignore it for the last few days. He couldn’t accept that there was someone in his life who would understand, who felt the same pain, who *dealt* with that pain, and had even been the cause of similar pain himself, yet who lived and loved despite it, who loved *him* no matter that it had never been mentioned, just like Ianto never had... until Jack killed him. To know that he had lost so much due to a lack of forethought, because of his need to be seen to be doing something, was a demon he barely dared face. He hurt so much, his heart hollow and bleeding within him, but all that the pain did was remind him that he wasn’t worthy of people’s trust and love because when he did receive it, he broke them; irrevocably. Even though he was immortal, Methos was not indestructible; Jack knew that and he did not want to break Methos too, but most of all he didn’t think he would be able to face him - not after this. Jack was alone, as fate - or the Bad Wolf - had decreed.
The Doctor’s instinct about him had been correct; he was wrong.
Jack had no idea how long he’d been in the cell; he’d not bothered to check his watch to keep track on the passage of time, there seemed little point. He was half aware of people coming and going - he could have sworn he heard Bridget Spears voice at one point - of the security hatch being opened and closed at irregular intervals, but none of it truly registered. All his attention was taken up by the endless swirl in his head of things he could have done - should have done - differently, never mind what he should have *said* and would never have the chance to say now. Suddenly, an unexpected commotion broke out somewhere beyond the cell door and he still retained enough presence of mind that it instantly put him on alert as he leapt up to peer through the small observation port in the door. Even so, he did not expect that the black-uniformed soldiers would barge into *his* cell and drag him out of the place. He wondered what they wanted with him, but somehow didn’t think they’d be amenable to answering questions. He was cuffed again as soon as they could safely stop to do so and bundled into a waiting Land Rover.
“Agent Johnson will explain,” one of the soldiers said as they drove across London. The meeting wasn’t a pleasant prospect - he presumed Agent Johnson was the one who had destroyed the Hub and sealed him in concrete so he could think of no good reason for why she wanted him back in her custody, not when he was already broken by his own hand. He realised that the last of their journey would be by air when he was manhandled out of the Land Rover and into the service entrance of a building he never had the chance to see properly, apart from realising it was tall. The suspicion was confirmed while they waited by the helipad on the roof which meant that wherever they were going, it wasn’t that close. For better or worse, he would find out what was wanted of him when they arrived at their destination.
Agent Johnson was just as militarily precise and direct as Jack remembered from the little he’d seen of her previously, which he realised had probably been in this very place. The memory made his eyes sting and his heart ache; he had no Ianto to break him out of here this time and his continued freedom was solely under her control. The sight of Alice and Stephen - unrestrained and not under guard - as he was ‘escorted’ down the corridor of the old MOD base was the only light Jack’d had in a day full of darkness; it seemed Frobisher had kept his promise. He hoped that Gwen would be able to keep Ianto’s family safe, but doubted that he would be able - or allowed - to find out.
Jack followed as the soldiers pushed Decker into what appeared to be an old hangar; no-one touched him until it was indicated he should stand so they could remove his cuffs.
“This should be everything you need,” Johnson said. “And if it's not, we'll find it.” She sounded very determined about something, but didn’t say anything else.
“For what?” Jack asked as he rubbed some feeling back into his wrists.
“Wavelengths. The 456 are named after a wavelength, and that's got to be the key to fighting back.” That explained the presence of Decker, though judging by the expression on his face, Decker was less than impressed.
“You're wasting your time,” Decker said. “There's nothing you can do. I've analysed those transmissions for 40 years and never broke 'em.” He sounded very sure of himself and that annoyed Jack for some reason. It must also have annoyed Johnson as she casually pulled out her gun, turned on Decker and shot him in the leg. She turned back to face Jack with the hint of a rather feral smile on her face.
“What do you think, Captain?” Johnson asked, indicating Alice with a jerk of her head. “She told me you were good. Was she right?” Jack could barely believe his ears. Alice? He was here because of Alice? After everything that had passed between them over the years, sometimes acrimoniously, for her to still have faith that he could do something, that he was the *only* person who could do something was almost startling. It gave him a glimmer of hope, a hint of fragile belief that maybe she was right and he could be that person, despite everything that had happened. He gave Alice a smile - a little twisted maybe, but it was a smile.
“Let's get to work,” Jack said. He shrugged out of his coat and headed toward the bank of computers and other electronic paraphernalia. He attacked the computers with a renewed sense of purpose, trying to put out of his mind everything that could interfere; it wasn’t easy but as long as concentrated on what he was doing, what he was trying to achieve, he could almost ignore the empty place at his side and in his heart. He didn’t let Decker’s negativity get to him either as he knew something that Decker most certainly didn’t; no-one had managed to hack into Torchwood Three for the last five years or so, or not without Tosh knowing about it at least and letting them see only what she wanted them to see. There was no way Jack was going to let Decker *or* Johnson know that.
Despite the extra resources, Jack still couldn’t find a solution and he began to think that Alice’s faith in him had been misplaced; he already felt like he hadn’t deserved it and his lack of progress made it worse. Then Alice called him over and showed him what was going on outside - busloads of unhappy children, many of them terrified and screaming, being ferried to an unknown fate. It wasn’t an unknown fate to Jack; he knew, as did everyone else in the hangar. The image of one girl, probably around the same age as Ianto’s niece, was brought into close up; tear stained face pressed close to the window of the bus as she banged her small hand ineffectually on the glass, obviously crying out for her mother. No person, especially not a parent, could look at that girl and fail to be moved to anger. Fury surged through Jack; blinding, white-hot fury that coalesced to an icy knot of rage deep within him. Ianto had been killed trying to help him stop this; he could not let it happen now. It was up to him to save the children, save the world. He would find a way. He had to. Somehow.
*
There’d been no news from Jack, Ianto or Gwen since Ianto’s call the day after the whatever-it-was had descended on Thames House in a pillar of fire, and the few reports that had made it through had only made the waiting worse. They knew *something* had happened, but not exactly what and only the phone call from Ianto had stopped Methos from walking the 5 miles or so into the centre of London to try to get answers, with his sword if needs be. Not that Siannon blamed Methos; she would have been walking right beside him. Then she’d watched today in horror as hundreds - thousands - of terrified children were rounded up by the military with apparently no thought for them or their distraught parents. Her only consolation was knowing that the kids she taught were safe, and that she’d done all she could to protect the younger ones by getting on the phone at the first mention of inoculations by the government to demand of her superiors that they keep the schools closed. There had been no protest; in an area like Cumbria where many of the kids came from remote villages and the weather was unpredictable to say the least, school closures were a facet of everyday life and no-one would turn a hair if they stayed closed.
Siannon sipped her tea as she watched Methos prowl around the room with barely controlled fury, just as she’d watched him rage and curse and scream before he’d manage to haul himself into check. He’d stopped short of doing any major physical damage beyond throwing the odd item at the TV but she had no idea how he was going to continue at the emotional fever-pitch that was currently driving him without doing something or someone - including himself - harm. Throughout it all she’d strived to remain impassive, not to inflame him further by her own anguish, to be the calm centre he needed, his anchor, the voice of reason; it had been one of the most difficult things she’d done in years considering all she’d wanted to do was join him. Finally, it seemed to be getting through to him, and he stopped mid prowl in the centre of the room, head bent, breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he said. She shrugged in reply after breathing a quiet sigh of relief at his apparent return to his ‘normal’ self.
“Happens to us all, sometimes. You just don’t let go very easily - or very often.”
“I can’t afford to.”
She put her tea down on the floor, scrambled out of her chair and picked her way through the scattered mess until she was close enough to fling her arms around him in the hug she’d wanted to give him since he fell apart in front of her.
“Sometimes you have to for the sake of sanity - other people’s if not your own. If it’s any consolation, seeing you so angry is almost therapeutic.”
There was a slightly hysterical sounding but rather muffled snort of disbelief from the vicinity of her shoulder.
“I did say ‘almost’,” Siannon added as she stroked the back of Methos’ head. “Mostly, it just hurts because I can’t do anything about the cause. I wish I could.”
“You and me both,” he mumbled, before he stepped out of the circle of her arms. “I know the old adage is ‘no news is good news’ but...”
“That’s not the way you feel. I know what you mean - it’s like waiting for a blade to fall...” she shuddered and reached out to grab his hand again, needing the contact and the mutual comfort. Judging by how tightly he held on, Methos did too.
*
Dekker continued to be dismissive of Jack’s efforts, in effect telling him there was nothing he was doing that hadn’t already been done, and done better, by people the world over. That got Jack to thinking; what did *they* have that was different? There must be a piece of the puzzle he was missing. Then he had it - the remnant that had been disconnected.
“Why did Clem die?” Jack asked, as much thinking aloud as truly expecting an answer.
“It was the 456 that killed him,” Johnson replied.
“But how did they do it? Why did they do it?” He didn’t look at her, still trying to chase the idea that was forming in his head.
“We've got the recording here.” Johnson moved to one of the other stations. Jack paid her little heed, intent on following the path his thoughts were taking.
“His mind must have synced to the 456 back when he was a child. But they didn't need to kill him. He wasn't any threat.” But maybe Clem *had* been a threat, or at least an irritant. “Unless maybe that connection hurt them,” Jack mused.
“This is the 456 at the moment of his death,” said Johnson as she made her way back to Jack’s side, She tapped in a few commands and stood back. “We've lifted the sound from the Thames House link.”
The eerie noise filled the silence between them.
“That sound, Mr Dekker, what's that sound?” Jack demanded.
“I don't know. It's new,” Dekker said. The uncertainty in his voice was plain to hear and a contrast to his earlier attitude. That alone would have convinced Jack he was on the right path, even if his own thoughts hadn’t been leading him in the same direction.
“Exactly. It's new,” Jack said. “We don't have to analyse the wavelength, just copy it. Turn it into a constructive wave... But we've got no way of transmitting.”
“Of course you have.” Dekker sounded entirely too smug to Jack’s ears - he looked it too. Then something in Jack’s mind clicked as he realised where the path he’d been following ended and he flinched in horrified disbelief at the prospect.
“Shut up,” he told Dekker.
“Same way as them,” Dekker continued.
“I'll find something else.” He couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t. Not if he could help it.
“What does he mean?” Johnson asked.
“Don't listen to him,” Jack ground out.
“Dekker, tell me,” she demanded,
“The 456 used children… to establish the resonance.” Jack’s eyes flicked toward Dekker, who sounded for all the world like he was discussing a hypothetical problem; it probably was one to him.
“Meaning what?” Johnson asked for clarification.
“We need a child,” Dekker said. Jack felt Alice draw closer, but he would not look at her. He hoped she wouldn’t ask the question, but she was his daughter and too curious for her own well being. She was also a mother, with all the protective instincts that brought.
“What do you mean?” Alice asked. Jack’s heart sank; he wanted to wring Dekker’s neck and wipe that smug expression off his face once and for all, but he daren’t. There was too much at stake.
“Centre of the resonance. Oh, that child's going to fry.” Dekker’s voice was entirely too gleeful for pronouncing what was basically a death sentence. Jack clenched his jaw and stared resolutely at the keyboard. Any second now…
“No, Dad. No, tell them no.”
“One child or millions.”
Alice and Johnson made him feel like he was being ripped apart.
“Dad, tell them no!”
“We're running out of time.”
Ripped apart and trampled underfoot.
Both of them making his heart bleed. Pleading. Begging him for such different reasons, for the same thing.
Life.
“Dad, no! No, Dad!” Alice was almost screaming at him.
“Captain?!” Jack could see the tears in Johnson’s eyes but the distress caused by the thought of what she was asking him to do didn’t stop her doing her duty; she was asking anyway.
Duty. Was that all he had left? Did he *have* another way to stop the 456? Could he live with himself if he didn’t stop them? He heard the voices of Torchwood’s past echoing in his head... the Needs of the Many Outweigh the Needs of the Few. He’d lived by that tenet himself for so many years, was it so different now? Could he really give up millions of children to that fate because he wasn’t prepared to give up one, even if that child was his own flesh and blood?
The answer was no.
He was Torchwood; the man who didn’t care, the one who made the decisions other people couldn’t bear to make. It was what he did.
Jack nodded tightly, and the hangar erupted into action; Johnson’s men hurried out of the door with Alice tearing after them, as she screamed for Stephen at the top of her voice.
The hangar was locked as Stephen was brought in and placed onto the grill that would be their resonance source; he would be both amplifier and transmitter. Jack glanced at him, the innocent blue eyes were wide with apprehension and yet still trusting.
“What are we doing, Uncle Jack?” Jack turned away. He wouldn’t answer. How could he? Even so, Stephen didn’t move, despite his mother hammering on the safety glass of the door. “What's happening? What do you want me to do?”
Jack hesitated; he would have done this with barely a second thought if it had been another child, he had before, but this was Stephen; his own grandson, the kid whose face lit up every time he saw Jack no matter how infrequently it was. Family. Blood was thicker than water...
Blood.
Blood on Ianto’s face as he lay dying in Jack’s arms, dying because he’d loved him and trusted him to do what was needed. Jack reached out with shaking hands and hit the keys that would save the planet, and kill Stephen.
Then all he could do was stand vigil, consumed by pain and disgust, while Stephen gave his life for them all.
He remained motionless when Johnson gave the order to let Alice back in, staring at his daughter with tear-filled eyes. Jack had thought he couldn’t sink any deeper into despair, but as he watched Alice weeping over Stephen’s body he realised he’d been the worst kind of fool to assume that. He might have saved millions of children a fate worse than death but the hatred and accusation in his daughter’s eyes made it all seem irrelevant - he hadn’t tried to save his own flesh and blood. The tears ran unhindered down his face as another part of him died; never had he felt more unworthy to bear the name of Jack Harkness.
~*~
~ No Time for Tears ~
*
Gwen almost dropped the phone from nerveless fingers after Johnson rang off. She stood there shaking, unable to completely process the enormity of what she'd been told.
“Jesus Christ!” The words were choked by shock and her never ending supply of tears. “Jesus Holy Fucking Christ!”
“What? Gwen, Love. What is it now? What happened?” Rhys’ arms were a comforting presence around her. She turned, and buried her face in his shoulder.
“It was him. He did it. He stopped them. He... I can’t believe it. I can’t.”
“Who?” Rhys mumbled into her hair.
“Jack. He stopped the 456.”
“That’s good - isn’t it?”
She shook her head where it rested against Rhys, then raised teary eyes to gaze at him.
“He sacrificed his grandson to do it,” she said baldly, not trying to soften the blow at all.
“Fuck.”
“Ianto would have stopped him. He would have found another way, I’m sure. He was like that.” Rhys’ arms tightened around her - she was so glad she had him; someone who loved her, someone to comfort her, someone who tried to *understand* even if he walked a different path - and something clicked in her head. She pulled away from Rhys’ embrace. “Ianto. My God, *Ianto* he...”
She started tearing around the flat, searching.
--
After they’d lost Tosh and Owen, Ianto had taken her aside and given her a Torchwood business card. She’d been puzzled until she turned it over and noticed the mobile number, then she’d put two and two together - and surprisingly got four.
“Adam’s?” She’d asked.
“His private number.” Ianto confirmed. “If.. if... anything should happen to me I need you to tell him; for me - for Jack. Please.”
“I will,” she’d promised.
--
She looked in all the normal places, and couldn’t find it. Cursing, tears pouring down her face she decided to try the unlikely ones and ran into the bedroom. She found it inside the wedding card she’d got from Owen and Tosh, the one she kept in her bedside cabinet.
“Thank bloody God!” She yelled, and dashed back out into the living room with the card in her hand, making straight for the phone.
“Gwen, love. I don’t...”
“Jack and Ianto had a..a...friend. Adam. He needs to know about Ianto. Hell, he needs to know about *Jack*.”
“Are you sure that’s really a good idea?” Rhys didn’t sound convinced in the least, but then he hadn’t met Adam and certainly didn’t know how significant he was - had been - in Ianto’s life. Gwen clutched the card like a talisman and took a deep breath.
“Trust me on this, Rhys,” she said. “He’s the only person who could understand, I know I bloody can’t. And for Ianto? I’d do more if I could.”
She reached for the phone and dialled, heart in her mouth and didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when it was picked up quickly, with a terse ‘yes’.
“Adam? Adam Pierson? It’s Gwen - from Torchwood.”
There was a pause, as if he were trying to remember or trying to get himself under enough control to answer. The latter, she decided when she heard his deep sigh.
“It’s Ianto, isn’t it?”
She nodded, and then remembered he couldn’t see her. She took a deep breath and bit her lip before replying.
“I’m sorry. He... Jack...” her voice was filling with tears and she couldn’t go on for a moment.
“Tell me, Gwen. I need to know. All of it.”
She reached out her free hand to Rhys, needing the contact, the reassurance and his support more than she’d ever done in her life. Slowly, tearfully, she began to recount the horror of the last day - and of Ianto’s last hours - to the only person left on the planet that might understand Jack Harkness.
*
Jack stood blinking in the sunshine as the doors swung shut behind him, the sound echoing through him with an eerie finality. The sunlight seemed to mock his heavy heart with its bright cheerfulness - he almost felt as if the sky should be weeping now that he had no tears left to shed.
The end is where we start from
How he had to laugh at himself for that now he realised there was no way forward for someone like him. But still... he took one step, then another and another and soon he was almost running - it was all he could do. He came to a slithering stop against a car that suddenly pulled over in front of him, staring with wide eyes as he recognised it, his hands shaking.
The passenger door opened, beckoning to him, and he stumbled toward it, almost falling into the embrace of the familiar seat. He pulled the door closed and leaned back, head bowed.
“Ianto’s gone,” he whispered.
“I know,” was the gentle reply. There were no platitudes, no expressions of sorrow but Jack wasn’t really surprised at that, even though he was kind of surprised to have Methos there in the first place; he’d expected to be left alone, to be shunned by everyone after what he’d done. The car began to move away, smooth and quiet as always and totally at odds with how Jack felt.
“I killed my grandson, alienated my daughter forever and I can’t bear to even *look* at Gwen. I’ve reached the end of the road, Methos, I can’t *do* this any more,” he said wearily.
“I know.”
Jack sighed. “I guess you do...” There was silence then, and the merest brush of fingers against his, reassuring in its brevity. Eventually Jack felt the need to break the silence. “Where are we going?”
“Wherever we have to so you can find the next road to travel.”
“We?”
“We. For now.”
*
~ Part Five - Beyond Day Five ~
Author: A Lanart
Beta: idontlikegravy
Artist: idontlikegravy
Characters/Pairing(s): Torchwood Team and CoE characters, Methos and Joe from Highlander: The Series, OFC and the Doctor.
Pairings: Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Methos, Jack/Methos, (background of Methos/Jack/Ianto)
Rating: PG-15 (M)
Word Count: 28,120
Warnings: It’s a non-fixit Children of Earth story - character Death. Lots of Angst; tissues might be required.
Disclaimer: Not Mine! Everything you recognise belongs to either the BBC or Panzer/Davis
Summary: Methos, Jack and Ianto deal with events - and each other - both during, and in the aftermath of the 5 days that changed their world.
Author's Notes: : Crossover with Highlander: The Series and Doctor Who (set in my ongoing AU, The Mystery verse).
Some dialogue from Days 2-5 of CoE is used in the fic.
The title is from the song ‘Shattered in Aspect’ by Faith and the Muse, as is the longer quote near the end. Other quotes are from the song ‘No Time to Cry’ by the Sisters of Mercy.
Each part takes place on a separate Day of Children of Earth, starting from Day 2 and continuing beyond Day 5.
Shattered in Aspect
Day 5
~*~
~ No time for breaking down ~
*
Jack sat quietly next to Gwen in what had been a cafeteria area, and was now just a place with seating near more of the ever present bodies that littered Thames House. He said nothing as Frobisher and his assistant joined them; couldn’t bring himself to care overmuch about them. Gwen still cared; Gwen cared too much and Jack couldn’t bear it. He steeled himself to meet her eyes as he told her to stand down, and call Rhys back. As she went to make the call, Jack felt obliged to ask Frobisher about Lois who’d risked so much to help them, but wasn’t surprised at the answer when he heard she was in custody.
“Then what about my daughter and her son?” Jack asked. There were few things left now that he could bring himself to care about, and fewer still over which he had any influence. Alice and Stephen were the foremost of those.
“They're free to go,” Frobisher replied.
Jack ducked his head and breathed a faint sigh of relief; he hadn’t dare hope for that. Maybe something good would come out of this after all. Then he remembered *why* he was sitting there, and raised his eyes again, ready to ask Frobisher the last thing on his mind.
“Ianto Jones, he's got family back in South Wales, a sister, has she been told?”
“We're not releasing any of the names, not yet.”
“Then let Gwen tell her. You said yourself the world is going to hell any second. Before it does, give us a moment of grace. Just take Gwen home, please.” Jack glanced over to Gwen where she sat on the floor, crying quietly into her drawn-up knees. His stomach flipped unpleasantly. “I can't look at her any more,” he added in almost a whisper. To his surprise, Frobisher agreed, but of course there was a condition. Jack consented to being put into custody without a second thought; he could do nothing now, even if he wanted to.
The blades of the helicopter caused his coat to whip around him as he gave Gwen one last hug before she left. It wasn’t the only thing he had for Gwen though. His lips were pressed to her ear, her hair a tangled mass around his face that hid what he was saying from view.
“They've got kids. Ianto's niece and nephew,” he murmured, then he squeezed her tighter for emphasis “Save them.” For Ianto, they had to try; it was all they could do. As the helicopter rose above London, his hope went with it, and he didn’t protest when he felt the snick of high-security cuffs around his wrists. There was no reason to fight.
The cell door clanged shut behind Jack, a forbidding sound that ran counterpoint to Lois’ frantic demands to know what was going on. She had every right *to* know seeing as she’d laid her job and possibly her chance at a normal life on the line for the sake of Torchwood while barely knowing who or what they were, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care, not any more. Her life probably had gone to hell but everything he touched seemed to turn to ashes sooner or later so he couldn’t really say it was a complete surprise. Once, he’d allowed himself to hope, to dream - not for a normal life, that was impossible - but for something *better*, something that could touch his heart and soul in a way that had so rarely happened in his life. He’d had it - and now he didn’t. His fault, *his* fault. All of it. The children. Ianto. Lois. The nameless, faceless others who had died with Ianto in Thames House who, like Ianto, shouldn’t have died. And more - back - further back. Tosh. Owen. Susie. Estelle. Lucia. Alex. Michael. More - so many more. Every name a reminder that try as he might, he ultimately failed. It was easy to ignore the small voice inside him - sounding suspiciously like Ianto - that whispered ‘what about Methos?’ as he’d been doing his utmost to ignore it for the last few days. He couldn’t accept that there was someone in his life who would understand, who felt the same pain, who *dealt* with that pain, and had even been the cause of similar pain himself, yet who lived and loved despite it, who loved *him* no matter that it had never been mentioned, just like Ianto never had... until Jack killed him. To know that he had lost so much due to a lack of forethought, because of his need to be seen to be doing something, was a demon he barely dared face. He hurt so much, his heart hollow and bleeding within him, but all that the pain did was remind him that he wasn’t worthy of people’s trust and love because when he did receive it, he broke them; irrevocably. Even though he was immortal, Methos was not indestructible; Jack knew that and he did not want to break Methos too, but most of all he didn’t think he would be able to face him - not after this. Jack was alone, as fate - or the Bad Wolf - had decreed.
The Doctor’s instinct about him had been correct; he was wrong.
Jack had no idea how long he’d been in the cell; he’d not bothered to check his watch to keep track on the passage of time, there seemed little point. He was half aware of people coming and going - he could have sworn he heard Bridget Spears voice at one point - of the security hatch being opened and closed at irregular intervals, but none of it truly registered. All his attention was taken up by the endless swirl in his head of things he could have done - should have done - differently, never mind what he should have *said* and would never have the chance to say now. Suddenly, an unexpected commotion broke out somewhere beyond the cell door and he still retained enough presence of mind that it instantly put him on alert as he leapt up to peer through the small observation port in the door. Even so, he did not expect that the black-uniformed soldiers would barge into *his* cell and drag him out of the place. He wondered what they wanted with him, but somehow didn’t think they’d be amenable to answering questions. He was cuffed again as soon as they could safely stop to do so and bundled into a waiting Land Rover.
“Agent Johnson will explain,” one of the soldiers said as they drove across London. The meeting wasn’t a pleasant prospect - he presumed Agent Johnson was the one who had destroyed the Hub and sealed him in concrete so he could think of no good reason for why she wanted him back in her custody, not when he was already broken by his own hand. He realised that the last of their journey would be by air when he was manhandled out of the Land Rover and into the service entrance of a building he never had the chance to see properly, apart from realising it was tall. The suspicion was confirmed while they waited by the helipad on the roof which meant that wherever they were going, it wasn’t that close. For better or worse, he would find out what was wanted of him when they arrived at their destination.
Agent Johnson was just as militarily precise and direct as Jack remembered from the little he’d seen of her previously, which he realised had probably been in this very place. The memory made his eyes sting and his heart ache; he had no Ianto to break him out of here this time and his continued freedom was solely under her control. The sight of Alice and Stephen - unrestrained and not under guard - as he was ‘escorted’ down the corridor of the old MOD base was the only light Jack’d had in a day full of darkness; it seemed Frobisher had kept his promise. He hoped that Gwen would be able to keep Ianto’s family safe, but doubted that he would be able - or allowed - to find out.
Jack followed as the soldiers pushed Decker into what appeared to be an old hangar; no-one touched him until it was indicated he should stand so they could remove his cuffs.
“This should be everything you need,” Johnson said. “And if it's not, we'll find it.” She sounded very determined about something, but didn’t say anything else.
“For what?” Jack asked as he rubbed some feeling back into his wrists.
“Wavelengths. The 456 are named after a wavelength, and that's got to be the key to fighting back.” That explained the presence of Decker, though judging by the expression on his face, Decker was less than impressed.
“You're wasting your time,” Decker said. “There's nothing you can do. I've analysed those transmissions for 40 years and never broke 'em.” He sounded very sure of himself and that annoyed Jack for some reason. It must also have annoyed Johnson as she casually pulled out her gun, turned on Decker and shot him in the leg. She turned back to face Jack with the hint of a rather feral smile on her face.
“What do you think, Captain?” Johnson asked, indicating Alice with a jerk of her head. “She told me you were good. Was she right?” Jack could barely believe his ears. Alice? He was here because of Alice? After everything that had passed between them over the years, sometimes acrimoniously, for her to still have faith that he could do something, that he was the *only* person who could do something was almost startling. It gave him a glimmer of hope, a hint of fragile belief that maybe she was right and he could be that person, despite everything that had happened. He gave Alice a smile - a little twisted maybe, but it was a smile.
“Let's get to work,” Jack said. He shrugged out of his coat and headed toward the bank of computers and other electronic paraphernalia. He attacked the computers with a renewed sense of purpose, trying to put out of his mind everything that could interfere; it wasn’t easy but as long as concentrated on what he was doing, what he was trying to achieve, he could almost ignore the empty place at his side and in his heart. He didn’t let Decker’s negativity get to him either as he knew something that Decker most certainly didn’t; no-one had managed to hack into Torchwood Three for the last five years or so, or not without Tosh knowing about it at least and letting them see only what she wanted them to see. There was no way Jack was going to let Decker *or* Johnson know that.
Despite the extra resources, Jack still couldn’t find a solution and he began to think that Alice’s faith in him had been misplaced; he already felt like he hadn’t deserved it and his lack of progress made it worse. Then Alice called him over and showed him what was going on outside - busloads of unhappy children, many of them terrified and screaming, being ferried to an unknown fate. It wasn’t an unknown fate to Jack; he knew, as did everyone else in the hangar. The image of one girl, probably around the same age as Ianto’s niece, was brought into close up; tear stained face pressed close to the window of the bus as she banged her small hand ineffectually on the glass, obviously crying out for her mother. No person, especially not a parent, could look at that girl and fail to be moved to anger. Fury surged through Jack; blinding, white-hot fury that coalesced to an icy knot of rage deep within him. Ianto had been killed trying to help him stop this; he could not let it happen now. It was up to him to save the children, save the world. He would find a way. He had to. Somehow.
*
There’d been no news from Jack, Ianto or Gwen since Ianto’s call the day after the whatever-it-was had descended on Thames House in a pillar of fire, and the few reports that had made it through had only made the waiting worse. They knew *something* had happened, but not exactly what and only the phone call from Ianto had stopped Methos from walking the 5 miles or so into the centre of London to try to get answers, with his sword if needs be. Not that Siannon blamed Methos; she would have been walking right beside him. Then she’d watched today in horror as hundreds - thousands - of terrified children were rounded up by the military with apparently no thought for them or their distraught parents. Her only consolation was knowing that the kids she taught were safe, and that she’d done all she could to protect the younger ones by getting on the phone at the first mention of inoculations by the government to demand of her superiors that they keep the schools closed. There had been no protest; in an area like Cumbria where many of the kids came from remote villages and the weather was unpredictable to say the least, school closures were a facet of everyday life and no-one would turn a hair if they stayed closed.
Siannon sipped her tea as she watched Methos prowl around the room with barely controlled fury, just as she’d watched him rage and curse and scream before he’d manage to haul himself into check. He’d stopped short of doing any major physical damage beyond throwing the odd item at the TV but she had no idea how he was going to continue at the emotional fever-pitch that was currently driving him without doing something or someone - including himself - harm. Throughout it all she’d strived to remain impassive, not to inflame him further by her own anguish, to be the calm centre he needed, his anchor, the voice of reason; it had been one of the most difficult things she’d done in years considering all she’d wanted to do was join him. Finally, it seemed to be getting through to him, and he stopped mid prowl in the centre of the room, head bent, breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he said. She shrugged in reply after breathing a quiet sigh of relief at his apparent return to his ‘normal’ self.
“Happens to us all, sometimes. You just don’t let go very easily - or very often.”
“I can’t afford to.”
She put her tea down on the floor, scrambled out of her chair and picked her way through the scattered mess until she was close enough to fling her arms around him in the hug she’d wanted to give him since he fell apart in front of her.
“Sometimes you have to for the sake of sanity - other people’s if not your own. If it’s any consolation, seeing you so angry is almost therapeutic.”
There was a slightly hysterical sounding but rather muffled snort of disbelief from the vicinity of her shoulder.
“I did say ‘almost’,” Siannon added as she stroked the back of Methos’ head. “Mostly, it just hurts because I can’t do anything about the cause. I wish I could.”
“You and me both,” he mumbled, before he stepped out of the circle of her arms. “I know the old adage is ‘no news is good news’ but...”
“That’s not the way you feel. I know what you mean - it’s like waiting for a blade to fall...” she shuddered and reached out to grab his hand again, needing the contact and the mutual comfort. Judging by how tightly he held on, Methos did too.
*
Dekker continued to be dismissive of Jack’s efforts, in effect telling him there was nothing he was doing that hadn’t already been done, and done better, by people the world over. That got Jack to thinking; what did *they* have that was different? There must be a piece of the puzzle he was missing. Then he had it - the remnant that had been disconnected.
“Why did Clem die?” Jack asked, as much thinking aloud as truly expecting an answer.
“It was the 456 that killed him,” Johnson replied.
“But how did they do it? Why did they do it?” He didn’t look at her, still trying to chase the idea that was forming in his head.
“We've got the recording here.” Johnson moved to one of the other stations. Jack paid her little heed, intent on following the path his thoughts were taking.
“His mind must have synced to the 456 back when he was a child. But they didn't need to kill him. He wasn't any threat.” But maybe Clem *had* been a threat, or at least an irritant. “Unless maybe that connection hurt them,” Jack mused.
“This is the 456 at the moment of his death,” said Johnson as she made her way back to Jack’s side, She tapped in a few commands and stood back. “We've lifted the sound from the Thames House link.”
The eerie noise filled the silence between them.
“That sound, Mr Dekker, what's that sound?” Jack demanded.
“I don't know. It's new,” Dekker said. The uncertainty in his voice was plain to hear and a contrast to his earlier attitude. That alone would have convinced Jack he was on the right path, even if his own thoughts hadn’t been leading him in the same direction.
“Exactly. It's new,” Jack said. “We don't have to analyse the wavelength, just copy it. Turn it into a constructive wave... But we've got no way of transmitting.”
“Of course you have.” Dekker sounded entirely too smug to Jack’s ears - he looked it too. Then something in Jack’s mind clicked as he realised where the path he’d been following ended and he flinched in horrified disbelief at the prospect.
“Shut up,” he told Dekker.
“Same way as them,” Dekker continued.
“I'll find something else.” He couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t. Not if he could help it.
“What does he mean?” Johnson asked.
“Don't listen to him,” Jack ground out.
“Dekker, tell me,” she demanded,
“The 456 used children… to establish the resonance.” Jack’s eyes flicked toward Dekker, who sounded for all the world like he was discussing a hypothetical problem; it probably was one to him.
“Meaning what?” Johnson asked for clarification.
“We need a child,” Dekker said. Jack felt Alice draw closer, but he would not look at her. He hoped she wouldn’t ask the question, but she was his daughter and too curious for her own well being. She was also a mother, with all the protective instincts that brought.
“What do you mean?” Alice asked. Jack’s heart sank; he wanted to wring Dekker’s neck and wipe that smug expression off his face once and for all, but he daren’t. There was too much at stake.
“Centre of the resonance. Oh, that child's going to fry.” Dekker’s voice was entirely too gleeful for pronouncing what was basically a death sentence. Jack clenched his jaw and stared resolutely at the keyboard. Any second now…
“No, Dad. No, tell them no.”
“One child or millions.”
Alice and Johnson made him feel like he was being ripped apart.
“Dad, tell them no!”
“We're running out of time.”
Ripped apart and trampled underfoot.
Both of them making his heart bleed. Pleading. Begging him for such different reasons, for the same thing.
Life.
“Dad, no! No, Dad!” Alice was almost screaming at him.
“Captain?!” Jack could see the tears in Johnson’s eyes but the distress caused by the thought of what she was asking him to do didn’t stop her doing her duty; she was asking anyway.
Duty. Was that all he had left? Did he *have* another way to stop the 456? Could he live with himself if he didn’t stop them? He heard the voices of Torchwood’s past echoing in his head... the Needs of the Many Outweigh the Needs of the Few. He’d lived by that tenet himself for so many years, was it so different now? Could he really give up millions of children to that fate because he wasn’t prepared to give up one, even if that child was his own flesh and blood?
The answer was no.
He was Torchwood; the man who didn’t care, the one who made the decisions other people couldn’t bear to make. It was what he did.
Jack nodded tightly, and the hangar erupted into action; Johnson’s men hurried out of the door with Alice tearing after them, as she screamed for Stephen at the top of her voice.
The hangar was locked as Stephen was brought in and placed onto the grill that would be their resonance source; he would be both amplifier and transmitter. Jack glanced at him, the innocent blue eyes were wide with apprehension and yet still trusting.
“What are we doing, Uncle Jack?” Jack turned away. He wouldn’t answer. How could he? Even so, Stephen didn’t move, despite his mother hammering on the safety glass of the door. “What's happening? What do you want me to do?”
Jack hesitated; he would have done this with barely a second thought if it had been another child, he had before, but this was Stephen; his own grandson, the kid whose face lit up every time he saw Jack no matter how infrequently it was. Family. Blood was thicker than water...
Blood.
Blood on Ianto’s face as he lay dying in Jack’s arms, dying because he’d loved him and trusted him to do what was needed. Jack reached out with shaking hands and hit the keys that would save the planet, and kill Stephen.
Then all he could do was stand vigil, consumed by pain and disgust, while Stephen gave his life for them all.
He remained motionless when Johnson gave the order to let Alice back in, staring at his daughter with tear-filled eyes. Jack had thought he couldn’t sink any deeper into despair, but as he watched Alice weeping over Stephen’s body he realised he’d been the worst kind of fool to assume that. He might have saved millions of children a fate worse than death but the hatred and accusation in his daughter’s eyes made it all seem irrelevant - he hadn’t tried to save his own flesh and blood. The tears ran unhindered down his face as another part of him died; never had he felt more unworthy to bear the name of Jack Harkness.
~*~
~ No Time for Tears ~
*
Gwen almost dropped the phone from nerveless fingers after Johnson rang off. She stood there shaking, unable to completely process the enormity of what she'd been told.
“Jesus Christ!” The words were choked by shock and her never ending supply of tears. “Jesus Holy Fucking Christ!”
“What? Gwen, Love. What is it now? What happened?” Rhys’ arms were a comforting presence around her. She turned, and buried her face in his shoulder.
“It was him. He did it. He stopped them. He... I can’t believe it. I can’t.”
“Who?” Rhys mumbled into her hair.
“Jack. He stopped the 456.”
“That’s good - isn’t it?”
She shook her head where it rested against Rhys, then raised teary eyes to gaze at him.
“He sacrificed his grandson to do it,” she said baldly, not trying to soften the blow at all.
“Fuck.”
“Ianto would have stopped him. He would have found another way, I’m sure. He was like that.” Rhys’ arms tightened around her - she was so glad she had him; someone who loved her, someone to comfort her, someone who tried to *understand* even if he walked a different path - and something clicked in her head. She pulled away from Rhys’ embrace. “Ianto. My God, *Ianto* he...”
She started tearing around the flat, searching.
--
After they’d lost Tosh and Owen, Ianto had taken her aside and given her a Torchwood business card. She’d been puzzled until she turned it over and noticed the mobile number, then she’d put two and two together - and surprisingly got four.
“Adam’s?” She’d asked.
“His private number.” Ianto confirmed. “If.. if... anything should happen to me I need you to tell him; for me - for Jack. Please.”
“I will,” she’d promised.
--
She looked in all the normal places, and couldn’t find it. Cursing, tears pouring down her face she decided to try the unlikely ones and ran into the bedroom. She found it inside the wedding card she’d got from Owen and Tosh, the one she kept in her bedside cabinet.
“Thank bloody God!” She yelled, and dashed back out into the living room with the card in her hand, making straight for the phone.
“Gwen, love. I don’t...”
“Jack and Ianto had a..a...friend. Adam. He needs to know about Ianto. Hell, he needs to know about *Jack*.”
“Are you sure that’s really a good idea?” Rhys didn’t sound convinced in the least, but then he hadn’t met Adam and certainly didn’t know how significant he was - had been - in Ianto’s life. Gwen clutched the card like a talisman and took a deep breath.
“Trust me on this, Rhys,” she said. “He’s the only person who could understand, I know I bloody can’t. And for Ianto? I’d do more if I could.”
She reached for the phone and dialled, heart in her mouth and didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when it was picked up quickly, with a terse ‘yes’.
“Adam? Adam Pierson? It’s Gwen - from Torchwood.”
There was a pause, as if he were trying to remember or trying to get himself under enough control to answer. The latter, she decided when she heard his deep sigh.
“It’s Ianto, isn’t it?”
She nodded, and then remembered he couldn’t see her. She took a deep breath and bit her lip before replying.
“I’m sorry. He... Jack...” her voice was filling with tears and she couldn’t go on for a moment.
“Tell me, Gwen. I need to know. All of it.”
She reached out her free hand to Rhys, needing the contact, the reassurance and his support more than she’d ever done in her life. Slowly, tearfully, she began to recount the horror of the last day - and of Ianto’s last hours - to the only person left on the planet that might understand Jack Harkness.
*
Jack stood blinking in the sunshine as the doors swung shut behind him, the sound echoing through him with an eerie finality. The sunlight seemed to mock his heavy heart with its bright cheerfulness - he almost felt as if the sky should be weeping now that he had no tears left to shed.
The end is where we start from
How he had to laugh at himself for that now he realised there was no way forward for someone like him. But still... he took one step, then another and another and soon he was almost running - it was all he could do. He came to a slithering stop against a car that suddenly pulled over in front of him, staring with wide eyes as he recognised it, his hands shaking.
The passenger door opened, beckoning to him, and he stumbled toward it, almost falling into the embrace of the familiar seat. He pulled the door closed and leaned back, head bowed.
“Ianto’s gone,” he whispered.
“I know,” was the gentle reply. There were no platitudes, no expressions of sorrow but Jack wasn’t really surprised at that, even though he was kind of surprised to have Methos there in the first place; he’d expected to be left alone, to be shunned by everyone after what he’d done. The car began to move away, smooth and quiet as always and totally at odds with how Jack felt.
“I killed my grandson, alienated my daughter forever and I can’t bear to even *look* at Gwen. I’ve reached the end of the road, Methos, I can’t *do* this any more,” he said wearily.
“I know.”
Jack sighed. “I guess you do...” There was silence then, and the merest brush of fingers against his, reassuring in its brevity. Eventually Jack felt the need to break the silence. “Where are we going?”
“Wherever we have to so you can find the next road to travel.”
“We?”
“We. For now.”
*
~ Part Five - Beyond Day Five ~