Fic: Phalaenopsis
Title: Phalaenopsis
Characters/Pairings: Toshiko, Jack (gen)
Rating: PG for themes and very minor language
Spoilers: Big ones for 2x12 "Fragments"
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, done for the love and not for any money at all.
Summary: "Toshiko, at least twenty other brilliant minds thought what you did was impossible."
Author's notes: Hey, look, I wrote gen-fic! (Shocking, I know.) Many, many kind thanks to blackbird_song for her superb beta and britpick job.
ETA: I am aware of the font bizarreness, but on a very, very slow connection and I'm about to go to work. I'll get to them as soon as I can--but in the meantime, please enjoy.
March
It is cold in the prison cell, cold and damp. If the wall against which her hand is pressed were flesh instead of stone, it would be described as clammy, and the person who belonged to the hand would be treated for shock.
She has no idea whether her mother is alive or dead.
*****
April
When Toshiko is released from UNIT custody, she is blindfolded, loaded into a van in the dead of night, and taken away. It's different to when she was taken into custody, both the comfortable, new-smelling van and the way the soldiers treat her. Then, she was blindfolded, bound at the wrists and ankles, gagged, and thrown on her side like a sack of grain. Now, she is sitting upright in a proper seat, and while she's blindfolded, she only wears shackles on her hands. Her prisoner's jumpsuit, scratchy and ill-fitting, is new and clean, and one of the guards gave her a blanket and a pillow in case she wanted to sleep. It's the last thing on her mind, but she appreciates the gesture.
About two hours into the journey, judging by the way the talking on the radio changed, the van pulls over and stops. There is the sound of slamming doors, a whoosh of fresh air into the passenger compartment, and the smell of the ocean. Where are we?
Muffled voices clash against the silence, rising and falling with the cadence of conversation. Eventually one voice rises above the others, saying, “Alright, Ms. Sato, come on out.” It's that man with the American accent again.
It's late, and she's tired that her grasp of English temporarily escapes her. “Domo arigato...” She swallows and tries again. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” One hand settles on her shoulder while the other one keeps her left hand, guiding her across a paved lot. “Not too much farther.”
The man stops her, and she hears the sound of a car door opening. Large hands circle her waist, give her a quick warning of “Alley-oop!” as he lifts her to the passenger compartment. The door closes.
While she sorts herself out on the seat, Toshiko hears the man get in and turn on the engine. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, but leave the blindfold until I tell you.”
She gropes around until she feels the seat belt, grateful (for once) for restraints. Her new captor is a crazy driver.
“Oooooo-kay, you can take it off now!”
Toshiko wrestles off the blindfold and sees the man grinning at her in the rear-view mirror. “Take a good look, because I'm the best thing you'll see for the next two hours.”
“Yes, Captain Harkness,” she says, and promptly bites her lip. In prison, speaking without permission had earned her the humiliation of having to choose between wearing soiled clothing and freezing. She only made that mistake once.
Captain Harkness doesn't snap at her. Instead, he looks over his shoulder says, “There's a brown paper bag on the seat behind you. I'm not sure when the last time those fools gave you a decent meal was, but I'm guessing it's been a while.”
“Thank you, Captain Harkness.”
“Jack.”
“Thank you, Jack.”
Twisting around in the seat, Toshiko picks up the bag, nearly tearing it apart at the sight of the food. Jack appears to keep his attention entirely on the road, allowing her to indulge in the nearly forgotten luxuries of civilization with as much privacy as possible, although she thinks she sees him smile when she discovers the packet's greatest treasure: a fat green apple with a pretty rose blush.
*****
The room Jack leads her to, much to her surprise, is nothing like a cell. It's small and sparsely decorated, but what furniture is there is all antique Victorian. Aside from a bed and hanging rack, there's a small table with more food and water on it, fruit and biscuits and other little things that keep well-and a stamped postcard and a pen. Toshiko's eyes sting; Jack pretends to not notice.
“I'll come find you in the morning. Sleep as long as you want-don't worry, if I come down and you're still asleep, I'll leave you that way until you're ready. There's clothing in the top drawer, and if you get cold, extra blankets under the bed. Toilets and shower are down the hall to your left, and I left soap and towels in there for you.” Jack grins again and pats her on the shoulder. “See you in the morning,” he says, vanishing into the hall.
“Good night,” she says to an already empty room. She doesn't bother with clothes, just strips down to the skin, crawls into bed, and falls asleep the moment her head touches the pillow.
*****
The next morning she has been dressed for only about five minutes when she hears the noise of heavy boots practically bounding down the hall. Moments later, Jack pokes his head in the door. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.” No, sir. Not at all.
“Great. Follow me.” He leads her through the passage to another passage to some stairs and yet another passage, ending in an office. “After you.”
Toshiko steps gingerly into a surprisingly shabby office. After closing the door behind them, Jack drops down into a chair and props his feet up on the desk. Waving a pen at her, he says, “Have a seat.”
She sits, and waits.
“First order of business...according to UNIT, Torchwood owns you. It owns your body, it owns your mind, and it owns your soul. For the next five years, your life is entirely at my disposal. You are, as far as they're concerned, as much my property as if you were a car or a sofa, only more dangerous.”
Toshiko feels all the blood drain out of her face.
“Scared?” He flicks the pen against his knee.
She nods.
“You should be. That's a hell of a bargain you signed. I'd like to think it was out of your own free will, but let's face it, you'd never sign something like that if you were free.”
Toshiko doesn't answer. She still isn't sure if speaking out of turn will earn punishment, or, for that matter, what, if any, response she could possibly give.
Jack leans back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. The way he looks at her makes her feel like a bug on a pin, skewered into place by a dispassionate observer. He says, “See, what really happened is that I made a deal with UNIT and you made a deal with UNIT, but I haven't made a deal with you.” Digging in the desk drawer with his free hand, he pulls out something and says, “So, let's make a deal. Catch.”
Her hands come up before she thinks, closing around something small and black. It's a wallet. Small and heavy and made of smooth black leather-her own wallet, taken from her when she was taken into custody, only...
Suddenly she begins tearing cards out of it, cards for banks she's never had accounts with, a driver's licence with an address she's never lived in, and money, five hundred pounds in cash. Something small and lumpy is zippered in the front. Undoing the zip, she finds a key with an address written on a yellow tag.
Jack doesn't smile so much as bare his teeth. “According to UNIT, I can do whatever I want with your life. I'm giving it back to you.”
Toshiko is once again stunned speechless. She holds up two fifty-pound notes.
“Handy cash for starting out. You might want to go grocery shopping, for starters. I have no idea what you like to eat.” He slides a black folder with a red “T” in the lower right-hand corner across the desk to her. “Here's the rest of my deal with you.”
The folder contains every document relevant and some that surprise her. There is a copy of the agreement between Torchwood and UNIT, followed by a copy of the court verdict against her, a copy of her birth certificate, and two citizenship documents. One, the original document from when she was a small child, has “Revoked” stamped across it in red ink; the second, issued three weeks ago, bears no such mark.
A small shiver runs down her spine. She puts the naturalization certificates aside. There are a few other documents in the folder, including something called “Conditions of Work,” her university transcripts, the abstract of her doctoral thesis, and an exhaustive account of her work at Ministry of Defence. She puts those aside and looks at the Conditions of Work.
§1.1 Relevant Parties
This agreement is between Ms. Toshiko Sato, Technical Specialist, hereinafter referred to as Sato, and Torchwood Institute, Division Three, Cardiff, United Kingdom, hereinafter referred to as Torchwood.
This document does not in any way, shape, or form invalidate, supersede, or overrule any prior agreements entered into by Torchwood regarding Sato.
That's no surprise, she thinks. Jack had been very plain that the contract with UNIT trumped all.
§4.1 Remuneration
Sato, under all relevant laws of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, is entitled to just and fair compensation for labour performed in execution of this contract.
§4.1.1 Salary
Sato, upon commencement of employment, will receive a salary of ₤75 000 per annum, exclusive of monetary bonuses given at the sole discretion of Torchwood. This salary may be increased upon satisfactory performance by Sato, to a maximum of ₤100 000 per annum.
All salary negotiations and determinations form an exclusive agreement between Torchwood and Sato and may not be challenged, garnished, or otherwise seized in whole or in part by any other party.
§4.1.2 Other benefits
Sato will be provided housing (exclusive of meals) for three (3) months upon arrival to Cardiff, after which housing is no longer provided by Torchwood.
Sato will be provided all necessary personal protective equipment for performance of her duties, including but not limited to exposure suits, eyewear, footwear, and lab gear. Replacement of this personal protective equipment is provided by Torchwood regardless of reason necessitating replacement.
§4.1.3 Security
The security firm Kuroshiro and Associated (Pty Ltd) (Kuroshiro) has been contracted to provide security services for Mrs. O. M. Sato, previously of London, now living in Osaka, Japan. Security services include but are not limited to physical security, protection of real and personal property, financial monitoring, and monitoring of unknown contacts until deemed safe by Kuroshiro. Security services will be provided to Mrs. Sato by Torchwood for one year starting on the calendar date of commencement of employment of Sato. Following that year, Sato may continue security services at her own expense or terminate this service at her own discretion.
Toshiko rereads the contract four times, just to make sure she isn't dreaming.
She looks up and sees Jack watching her.
“Any questions?” he asks.
Toshiko fidgets in her chair. “I don't understand.” She points to the paragraph detailing her salary. “That's twice what I made at MOD, and then a bit.”
Jack regards her soberly. “Do you think it's unfair?”
“No, no,” she says, “it's nothing...” Her voice trails off. Only the water walkers at MOD made anything close to this.
“Well then, if you don't have anything you'd like to add?” He hands Toshiko a pen.
As she signs the agreement, she wonders whether he's the most arrogant bastard she's ever met in her entire life, trying to buy her loyalty like he bought her freedom, or he's just made the most stunning gesture of good faith she's ever seen.
*****
Friday morning finds Toshiko sitting at her desk, attempting to wade through a poorly-written, nearly incomprehensible manual on what to do should one encounter a time-traveling version of oneself when Jack appears out of the aether and says, “Good morning!”
Toshiko jumps nearly out of her skin in fright.
Jack backs away immediately, holding up his hands and saying, “Sorry, sorry! Are you at a stopping point?”
“Yes, please.” She puts the awful book on her desk.
“Great. Meeting time, up in the conference room. Bring Suzie.”
When Toshiko and Suzie arrive in the conference room, they find Jack sitting next to a shockingly pale, pinched-faced man in a red jersey. Jack claps his hands and says, “Short and sweet today. Suzie Costello, Toshiko Sato, meet Doctor Jonathan Green, acting team physician. Jonathan, Suzie is our engineer and Toshiko is our technical specialist.”
Toshiko and Suzie shake his hand and take their seats. “Jonathan,” says Jack, reading from a form in front of him, “has been with Torchwood One for two years now, working as a medic with their field teams. Since that's what we need, and Diana was transferred up there to work in the main xenobiology labs, he's on loan from London until I can hire a permanent replacement.”
“Is that where Diana went? I thought she liked it here.”
“She did,” Jack answers, “but London's been after her a long time, and three weeks ago there was an offer too good to pass up.” His eyes slide from Suzie over to Toshiko and back again. “She's the associate director of xenobio research now. Jonathan, you'd have met her, right?”
Jonathan nods. “Unorthodox with her methods, but incredibly competent.”
Suzie snickers. “That's us, the anarchist heathens from the wilds of Wales. We're mad...but we're good.” As Jonathan looks aghast, she says, “What? Don't tell me Yvonne Hartmann herself didn't come down to personally warn you about us.”
The expression on Jonathan's face implies that was exactly what happened.
“Excuse me?” Toshiko waves a hand. “Who is Yvonne Hartfield?”
“Hartmann,” answers Suzie. “Director of Torchwood One in London. The only person on earth who calls Jack 'bastard' more often than I do, I imagine.”
“I have no way to prove that that,” Jack says, tapping his pencil against his cheek. “Let's just say that she and I have our differences and leave it at that.”
Over next to Jack, Jonathan starts to choke.
Jack says genially, “When she calls you at home tonight to interrogate you about me, because she will, tell her I said hello and that the Callisto parakeet is doing fine. That'll be a good fifteen minutes' entertainment, promise. Annnnnddddd....on to the next order of business. Now that our numbers are back up, we need to train the way we'll work. Suzie, you and I will be one response team. Toshiko and Jonathan will be the next...”
“Hey, Jack?”
“What?”
“Are you sure about that?” Suzie points to Jonathan and Toshiko. “You're putting the two inexperienced people together...”
Jonathan pipes up, “I'm quite experienced, thank you...”
“...so you know your way around Cardiff, who to call for help, what kind of equipment we have...”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jack says, punctuating his words with his hands. “Suzie, good point. You and Jonathan will be one response team and Toshiko and I will be the other. Okay?”
Suzie, Toshiko, and Jonathan glance at one another. “Fine by me,” Toshiko says. The others nod.
“Done. Toshiko, you and I will discuss your training after this meeting, and John, yours after lunch.” Jack makes a note on a foolscap pad. “Next order of business. Toshiko, congratulations. Here's your first project.” He slides three pieces of paper across the desk to her.
One looks like cubist art, a random scattering of squares in odd little groups. One is a series of small images. The last is a collection of squiggles and lines.
Suzie leans over Toshiko's shoulder for a closer look. She points to the paper with the squares. “I recognize that one,” she says. “It was on the side of that little yellow thing we found with the green sticky stuff inside.”
Toshiko is utterly confused. She looks up at Jack.
“They're language samples,” he says. “Two are alien languages and one is an Earth language, although I won't tell you which one.” Leaning back in his chair, he adds, “You, Ms. Sato, are going to take all of the of written and recorded language samples this branch has collected over the last half-century, including these, and use them to design a program that will translate any alien language into commonly-spoken Earth languages. This is a mission-critical, top-priority project, and you will have all of Torchwood's resources at your disposal.”
Toshiko, Jonathan, and Suzie look at one another in stunned silence. While Toshiko quietly fidgets in her seat, Jonathan says, “Wow. No pressure.”
Suzie lets out a breathless laugh. “You don't ask much, do you?”
“Only what I know I can get.” Jack stands up and walks around the table. “Toshiko, at least twenty other brilliant minds at MOD thought what you did was impossible.” He puts his hands on her shoulders. “You will do this, and you will change the world.”
Toshiko had expected her first project to be something simple, working under Suzie, perhaps, or that Jack would put her on some inconsequential job until he decided what to do with her. She is intensely aware of his hands lying gently by her neck, of Suzie's intense gaze, and of Jonathan shaking his head.
Jack takes his hands away and steps back a pace. “That's all I had this morning. Anybody else?” When nobody answers, he says, “Okay then. Suzie, yesterday I heard you say if you didn't get more sunshine, you'd have the albedo of a glacier. We can't be having that, so you and Jonathan get out of here and don't come back until...” He checks his watch. “Half past one.”
Suzie snorts. “It's raining, Jack.”
Jack says, “Tanning bed, then. Or whatever. You can get a sunburn when it's cloudy out. And you know, I'm giving you the rest of the morning off, and you're complaining? Go on, get out of here.” He leans over Toshiko and whispers in her ear, “Wait for it...”
“Harkness, you are such a bastard.”
With a lopsided grin, Jack says, “Oh, come on, Suzie. You wouldn't have me any other way.”
*****
Jack gives Toshiko a few minutes after the meeting ends, telling her to go do anything she needs to do and meet him in his office when she's done. She walks up the stairs, pausing at the entrance.
Without looking up from what he's doing, Jack says, “Come in and close the door behind you.”
She edges in the door and closes it.
“Take a seat.” Jack's voice has a harsh edge that she's never heard before.
There is a hard wooden chair in front of his desk. It reminds her uncomfortably of the chairs in the interrogation room at the prison, and the stripped-down, bare feel of his office only adds to that impression. She sits on the edge of the seat, wringing her hands in her lap.
“Good.” He digs through a desk drawer, pulls out a small object, and walks over to put it in her hands. “Three guesses to what I just gave you.”
Her eyes drop down involuntarily and all the blood drains from her face. “A hand grenade.”
“To be precise, a hand grenade from 1942.”
She's never held live ammunition before. It makes her feel queasy. I thought I was here to discuss training?
“It's a pretty thing, in its own way.” Jack points at it. “Designed perfectly for its task, simple to make, simple to use, and damn good at its job.” Circling around her, holding his hands clenched into fists, he says, “It's made for killing people. It has no other purpose. Kind of like that thing you built, only not nearly as sophisticated or elegant, and it can only kill a few people at a time.”
There is a long, drawn-out silence in the room. Toshiko realizes that Jack is waiting for some kind of answer. A confession is irrelevant at this point, and there is no excuse she can give for what she's done. Bitter experience with the UNIT interrogation teams has taught her that any answer she gives is wrong, so she goes with a simple, “Yes, sir,” and braces for the onslaught.
“Yes, sir?” Jack spits her words back to her. “Yes, sir? You sell out your country and all you can say to me is, yes, sir? Funny, I would think you had more courage than that. Damn it, look at me when I'm talking to you!”
He paces from left to right, forcing her to twist her head around to keep eye contact with him. “Feeling humiliated? Say, 'yes, sir.' Since you seem to like those words.”
Toshiko considers her situation. She's a convicted terrorist, sitting in a room with a roaring giant of a man and an antique grenade on her lap. Small wonder Suzie calls him “bastard” all the time. She hunches over and stares at her lap. “Yes, sir.” Tears well up in her eyes, tears that she refuses to let fall until they do.
“You should be. That was unbelievably stupid, what you did. You, personally, could have responsible for the deaths of millions of people.”
There is a rustling noise; Jack is looming over her, diving in to take the grenade. “Just think of all the things that could have happened because you gave in.” He flips the grenade up in the air and catches it; she instinctively raises her hands above her face. Jack sneers and says, “Pin's out. I thought you'd notice. Or maybe you're just not as bright as you want us to believe.”
Bastard! That stings her pride, especially after the grandiose speech in the prison about her building the blaster in the first place, stings enough to make Toshiko's nostrils flare in anger. She bites back the words go to hell.
“What, not willing to talk back to me? You're not afraid of me, are you?” Jack leans back in his chair and puts his boots on the desk. “Or did your mother teach you to be a good little girl and not talk back to her elders? She'd be so proud of you, right now.”
That is enough. “Leave my mother out of this,” Toshiko hisses. “Keep being a bastard to me, I don't care, but leave her alone.” The words tumble out in a rush, and as soon as they're out, the instinct to shrivel away, get back from the threat nearly overwhelms her.
Through sheer force of will, she compels herself to sit up straight and look Jack in the eye, even though she can feel her hands shaking and her shoulders tense, waiting for the reprisal.
Jack raises an eyebrow and returns her stare. He steeples his fingers together, tapping them like a metronome.
Toshiko is shaking all over now, trembling with fear and anger and hurt and betrayal. Holding herself straight is harder and harder with each passing second, especially when Jack leans forward. When he stands up and walks stiff-backed toward her, still staring her down, right hand extended, Toshiko braces herself for a blow, keeping eye contact even through the tears that spill down her face.
It never comes.
Instead of a backhand to the face, Jack sinks to the floor, takes her hand, and gently squeezes. His face and posture soften so much it's hard to believe she's facing the same person. Stroking her hand, he says, “Toshiko. Relax, please. It's over.”
She jerks in her chair, shocked at the turnabout.
“I'm done, I promise. And for what it's worth, I'm very, very sorry, and I will never treat you like that again.”
What? Toshiko has no idea what just happened. “Done with what?”
“Testing you. Finding out how you react to threats, so that I know what kind of training to give you.” Jack releases her hand, slides across the floor to lean back against his desk. “You're frightened of weapons, even though you helped build them at MOD. When you're afraid of something you'd rather get away from it than investigate it, you're easily intimidated by threatening postures, your first instinct when challenged is to submit without question....”
He ticks off each statement on his fingers. “When repeatedly provoked, you'll get upset, but remain submissive, right up until the point where somebody threatens your mother, at which point you'll make a show of defiance.” He pauses for a moment. “The bit about threatening you and your mother, by the way, is more or less exactly what the UNIT psych monkey said about you.” It's a pitiless assessment, and not especially comfortable to hear, but given without judgment.
I don't know whether I've been complimented or insulted. She wraps her arms around herself and mutters, “At least I'm consistent.”
“You are, and that's not a bad thing. You're also not a coward, for what it's worth. Never, ever believe that.”
“I don't see how I can't.” The words are as bitter as ashes on her tongue.
“You're not. I promise.”
Toshiko slides to the back of the chair and pulls her knees up to her chest. If I could crawl into a hole and never come out, I would.
Jack studies her for a moment. “Have you ever been for a helicopter ride?”
She shakes her head.
“That's okay. The blades of the main rotor are held onto the rotor shaft by a single giant hex nut.” He spreads his hands to indicate its size. “If something happens to that nut, the blades fall off, and the helicopter crashes. The pilots call it the Jesus Nut.”
It's such a funny image that Toshiko smiles weakly in spite of herself. Jack smiles back and says, “Point is, everything that exists has a critical weakness of some kind. If that critical weakness is exploited, no matter how good the rest of it is, the system fails.”
“And my critical weakness is my mother.”
“Your critical weakness is your mother.” Jack pauses again, scratching his head. “Even though you knew you and she were both likely dead no matter what, you still risked your life trying to save her-and when you were caught, you owned up to your mistake. You made a bad decision, Toshiko, but it was a brave decision. Not cowardly. Never, ever.”
While she's thinking that over, Jack pats the floor next to him, and she obediently slides down next to him. Sitting next to Jack is easier, somehow, despite her still not being quite over her earlier fear. He's not as big from the floor, nor does he expect her to make eye contact. He takes her hand and strokes the palm with his thumb.
I'm not going to cry. I am not going to cry.
Eventually, Jack says, “In a sense, you're lucky, odd as that may sound. We know your critical weakness already. That means we can do things to protect you.” He tugs on her hand, getting her to look up at him. “Rest assured that as long as you are with me, we will make...arrangements...to make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”
Understanding unfurls in Toshiko's mind, a flower opening to the sun. “Kuroshiro,” she breathes.
“Ex-actly.” Jack looks triumphant. “And something that isn't in the contract, because UNIT wants control over things that are none of its damn business, Torchwood....well, let's just say Torchwood is on very friendly terms with certain banks. If you tell me how much you'd like to send to your mother each month, I will personally deduct the money from your wages and transfer it to Japan for you. It will appear to be a pension from the Japanese government. Nobody else will ever need to know.”
Toshiko's mouth gapes open in shock while the magnitude of his words sink in. She begins to shake, sucking in great, deep gasping breaths, and all she feels is sheer relief that she's safe, her mother is safe, and the nightmare of the last few months is over, completely and totally and undeniably over. It's too much, and she breaks down and sobs like a child.
“Hey, hey. C'mere.” Jack wraps an arm around her and pulls her close to him, bracing her against his side and stroking her hair. “S'okay.”