Fic: Times Like This
Title: Times Like This
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Alun Evans, Andy, Ianto, Jack, Tosh, Owen, Gwen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1693
Spoilers: Nada, but it does reference a few of my other fics.
Summary: Everyone on the team had warned Alun there’d be times like this, but there was a world of difference between being told and seeing it for himself.
Written For: Weekend Challenge: Tortured Prompts Department 2, using “They all warned us about times like this,” at 1_million_words.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Alun Evans couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned there’d be times like this. Even so, experiencing it firsthand, as it were, was a bit… jarring. Everyone had regaled him with tales of bizarre alien tech-related events when he’d first joined Torchwood Three. It had even been covered in the introductory briefing, even if that had mostly amounted to being told that alien technology was often capable of doing things to people that made no logical sense, and therefore should always be handled with extreme caution, even if you thought you knew what something was.
Andy had told him about the day the Torchwood SUV had been turned into an onion, which to Alun had seemed a bit farfetched, even though he knew he should be able to take his fellow former-PC’s word, and anyway, Ianto had corroborated the story. So had Jack, for that matter, but Torchwood’s leader told so many wild stories Alun found it difficult to know which of them he should believe, and which were complete and utter nonsense. Even Ianto rolled his eyes at some of them.
The onion incident wasn’t the only story Alun had heard either. Ianto had told him about the time Jack had tripped on a device the Rift had dumped in a field and accidentally swapped bodies with a cow, and Owen had told him about the time Ianto wound up with eyes in the back of his head. Even Tosh, the most sensible and down-to-earth member of the team, had laughingly told him about Owen getting turned into a giant pink alien slug. Owen had been less than delighted about being reminded of that incident and had spent the rest of the day sulking. For some reason, that had seemed to amuse Tosh even more; every time she’d looked Owen’s way, she’d started giggling, until in the end, Torchwood’s medic had retreated to the autopsy bay, where he could sulk in private.
And yet, despite all the weird stories he’d been told, not to mention all the warnings he’d been given, somehow Alun had still been unprepared for the full reality of being a member of the Torchwood Three team. Then again, he’d only been working here for five weeks, and although he’d seen Weevils, and Kneebles, and Spider-mice, which were cute in a slightly creepy way, he hadn’t had a lot to do with alien tech. Most of the Rift retrievals he’d participated in had been to collect non-technological items: a lump of metal Jack claimed was shielding off a spaceship, a peculiar alien sculpture, a sad-looking plant, a rusty bicycle wheel, and a collection of pamphlets printed in an undecipherable language. Tosh was still working on translating those in her free time, just in case they might prove interesting.
The only technology he’d retrieved was the camera he’d brought back with him a few hours ago from his first solo retrieval, and even though it had appeared totally innocuous, he’d followed all the safety protocols Ianto had drummed into him. Still, perhaps he shouldn’t have been quite so quick to make assumptions. As he’d set the box on Tosh’s workstation, for her to look at when she had a moment, he’d cheerfully informed everyone within earshot, which hadn’t included Jack, who was on the phone in his office, that it was just an old camera. If Jack had been present, perhaps he would have recognised the device for what it was, and this entire incident might have been avoided. Unfortunately for everyone involved, however…
Owen, bored because he had nothing interesting to do, just a pile of paperwork awaiting his attention, had immediately reached into the box, and picked up the ‘camera’.
“Maybe I should’ve taken up photography instead of becomin’ a doctor. I could’ve spent my days doin’ photoshoots with glamorous supermodels instead of up to my elbows in something’s innards.”
“I thought you enjoyed cutting up dead aliens,” Gwen had teased. “Never happier than when you’re doing an autopsy.”
“That’s because the dead don’t talk back, not the way living patients do.” Owen had raised the camera to his eye, pointing it at Gwen. “Let’s see a pose then, luv.”
Gwen, of course, had played along, doing the whole fashion model bit, tossing her long hair back and going for a sultry look. She loved having her picture taken.
“Yeah, like that!” Owen had snapped the shutter, and…
A beam of weird greenish light had shot out of the supposed camera, bathing Gwen in a shimmering glow, and when it had faded, she… wasn’t herself anymore.
“Oh shit!” Owen yelled, hurriedly dropping the device back in the containment box. “Thought you said that thing was a camera!”
“I thought it was! I mean, that’s what it looks like, but what do I know? I’ve only been here a few weeks!” Alun stared at what used to be Gwen with a mixture of horror and fascination. Gwen simply sat where she was, since she no longer had any legs, and flailed her tentacles, although it was impossible to tell whether that was from distress and agitation, or merely normal behaviour for whatever creature she’d been turned into.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” Jack demanded, striding out of his office, then stopping a few feet away and staring. “Okay, that’s different.” He sounded more intrigued than concerned.
“It’s Gwen,” Ianto informed him, wandering over to join the others, hands in his trouser pockets, perhaps so he wouldn’t be tempted to strangle someone. He didn’t look happy. “At least it was, before Owen started messing around with our latest Rift Gift. You’d think he’d know better by now, but…” He trailed off with a shrug. “Apparently not.”
“Newbie over there said it was an old camera!”
“You took the word of the newest member of the team?” Ianto raised a disparaging eyebrow. It always amazed Alun how much the man could convey with a facial feature he’d never previously paid much attention to.
“It LOOKED like a bloody camera!” Owen attempted to defend himself. Not that it helped his case.
“When it comes to alien technology, looks can be deceptive, something you should be well aware of.”
Owen deflated. “I screwed up, okay?”
“Yes you did, and no, it’s not okay, especially not for Gwen.”
“Alright, I’m sorry, I was a prat ‘cause I was bored. But I didn’t think it would do…” he waved one hand vaguely in Gwen’s direction. “THAT to her!”
Jack was still staring at Gwen, or more accurately, at her tentacles. She sat there, a lumpy thing in shades of green and blue that looked a bit like a human-sized sea anemone, but with twenty or so tentacles sprouting from the top instead of cilia. They were restlessly coiling and uncoiling at random. As far as Alun could tell, she didn’t seem to be in any distress, but he wasn’t an expert on marine biology, or any kind of biology for that matter, earth-based or alien.
“Jack?”
No answer.
Ianto tried again, this time louder. “JACK!”
“Huh?” reluctantly, the man in question tore his gaze away from Gwen’s new form.
“Yes, Ianto?” His air of innocence didn’t fool Ianto for a second.
“Focus, please. I know you have trouble resisting the charms of a shapely tentacle, but I’m sure we’d all appreciate it if you could make an exception this time and keep your hands, and other body parts, to yourself. Regardless of her current appearance, Gwen is a married woman, and you don’t want to upset Rhys.” The word ‘again’ wasn’t uttered, but somehow it hung in the air anyway.
Jack sighed, clearly disappointed. “I suppose you’re right, he can be a bit excitable, but it’s a criminal waste of tentacles, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” Ianto fixed Jack with a stern glare, and once again Alun had to wonder who was really in charge around here.
“You’re no fun.” Jack pouted.
“You say that now…” Ianto turned to Owen. “Hadn’t you better check Gwen over, make sure she doesn’t have any special environmental needs in her current form?”
“Yeah, right, I’ll just get my scanners.” Owen scurried away.
“Tosh, could you take a look at the device, please?” Ianto glanced over at his friend.
“Already on it,” Tosh replied calmly.
Ianto gave Alun a reassuring smile. “Try not to worry, these things happen to all of us sooner or later. I’m sure it won’t be too long before Gwen’s herself again. Tosh is quite the expert on transformative technology.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Tosh agreed.
“How can you all be so calm about this?” Alun watched Owen examining Gwen with various pieces of medical equipment while Jack gazed covetously at her writhing tentacles.
“You get used to it,” Andy said, from somewhere behind him. He’d been so quiet up to now that Alun had forgotten he was even there. “After the fourth or fifth time you see weird stuff like this, you just start to accept it. Then by the time it happens to you, it’s just like a minor inconvenience. You put up with it until you’re changed back. It can even be sort of fun, depending on what you get turned into.”
“You’ve been… something else?”
“Yep! Call it an occupational hazard. Being an alien lobster was a bit boring though. They don’t really do much.”
Alun sat down on the nearest chair. Yes, everyone had warned him there’d be times like this, but it was still a shock to the system. He wondered if it would be bad form to have a nervous breakdown at this point.
Andy patted him on the shoulder. “Just breathe. You’ll be fine, and so will Gwen. She’s tough. Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“Tea. Yes. Thanks.” Alun let Andy pull him to his feet and steer him towards the kitchen, wondering how the hell they expected him to just get used to stuff like this. He pinched himself surreptitiously in the hopes that this might be nothing more than a really bizarre dream. No such luck.
There was no way around it, Torchwood was just plain weird.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Alun Evans, Andy, Ianto, Jack, Tosh, Owen, Gwen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1693
Spoilers: Nada, but it does reference a few of my other fics.
Summary: Everyone on the team had warned Alun there’d be times like this, but there was a world of difference between being told and seeing it for himself.
Written For: Weekend Challenge: Tortured Prompts Department 2, using “They all warned us about times like this,” at 1_million_words.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Alun Evans couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned there’d be times like this. Even so, experiencing it firsthand, as it were, was a bit… jarring. Everyone had regaled him with tales of bizarre alien tech-related events when he’d first joined Torchwood Three. It had even been covered in the introductory briefing, even if that had mostly amounted to being told that alien technology was often capable of doing things to people that made no logical sense, and therefore should always be handled with extreme caution, even if you thought you knew what something was.
Andy had told him about the day the Torchwood SUV had been turned into an onion, which to Alun had seemed a bit farfetched, even though he knew he should be able to take his fellow former-PC’s word, and anyway, Ianto had corroborated the story. So had Jack, for that matter, but Torchwood’s leader told so many wild stories Alun found it difficult to know which of them he should believe, and which were complete and utter nonsense. Even Ianto rolled his eyes at some of them.
The onion incident wasn’t the only story Alun had heard either. Ianto had told him about the time Jack had tripped on a device the Rift had dumped in a field and accidentally swapped bodies with a cow, and Owen had told him about the time Ianto wound up with eyes in the back of his head. Even Tosh, the most sensible and down-to-earth member of the team, had laughingly told him about Owen getting turned into a giant pink alien slug. Owen had been less than delighted about being reminded of that incident and had spent the rest of the day sulking. For some reason, that had seemed to amuse Tosh even more; every time she’d looked Owen’s way, she’d started giggling, until in the end, Torchwood’s medic had retreated to the autopsy bay, where he could sulk in private.
And yet, despite all the weird stories he’d been told, not to mention all the warnings he’d been given, somehow Alun had still been unprepared for the full reality of being a member of the Torchwood Three team. Then again, he’d only been working here for five weeks, and although he’d seen Weevils, and Kneebles, and Spider-mice, which were cute in a slightly creepy way, he hadn’t had a lot to do with alien tech. Most of the Rift retrievals he’d participated in had been to collect non-technological items: a lump of metal Jack claimed was shielding off a spaceship, a peculiar alien sculpture, a sad-looking plant, a rusty bicycle wheel, and a collection of pamphlets printed in an undecipherable language. Tosh was still working on translating those in her free time, just in case they might prove interesting.
The only technology he’d retrieved was the camera he’d brought back with him a few hours ago from his first solo retrieval, and even though it had appeared totally innocuous, he’d followed all the safety protocols Ianto had drummed into him. Still, perhaps he shouldn’t have been quite so quick to make assumptions. As he’d set the box on Tosh’s workstation, for her to look at when she had a moment, he’d cheerfully informed everyone within earshot, which hadn’t included Jack, who was on the phone in his office, that it was just an old camera. If Jack had been present, perhaps he would have recognised the device for what it was, and this entire incident might have been avoided. Unfortunately for everyone involved, however…
Owen, bored because he had nothing interesting to do, just a pile of paperwork awaiting his attention, had immediately reached into the box, and picked up the ‘camera’.
“Maybe I should’ve taken up photography instead of becomin’ a doctor. I could’ve spent my days doin’ photoshoots with glamorous supermodels instead of up to my elbows in something’s innards.”
“I thought you enjoyed cutting up dead aliens,” Gwen had teased. “Never happier than when you’re doing an autopsy.”
“That’s because the dead don’t talk back, not the way living patients do.” Owen had raised the camera to his eye, pointing it at Gwen. “Let’s see a pose then, luv.”
Gwen, of course, had played along, doing the whole fashion model bit, tossing her long hair back and going for a sultry look. She loved having her picture taken.
“Yeah, like that!” Owen had snapped the shutter, and…
A beam of weird greenish light had shot out of the supposed camera, bathing Gwen in a shimmering glow, and when it had faded, she… wasn’t herself anymore.
“Oh shit!” Owen yelled, hurriedly dropping the device back in the containment box. “Thought you said that thing was a camera!”
“I thought it was! I mean, that’s what it looks like, but what do I know? I’ve only been here a few weeks!” Alun stared at what used to be Gwen with a mixture of horror and fascination. Gwen simply sat where she was, since she no longer had any legs, and flailed her tentacles, although it was impossible to tell whether that was from distress and agitation, or merely normal behaviour for whatever creature she’d been turned into.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” Jack demanded, striding out of his office, then stopping a few feet away and staring. “Okay, that’s different.” He sounded more intrigued than concerned.
“It’s Gwen,” Ianto informed him, wandering over to join the others, hands in his trouser pockets, perhaps so he wouldn’t be tempted to strangle someone. He didn’t look happy. “At least it was, before Owen started messing around with our latest Rift Gift. You’d think he’d know better by now, but…” He trailed off with a shrug. “Apparently not.”
“Newbie over there said it was an old camera!”
“You took the word of the newest member of the team?” Ianto raised a disparaging eyebrow. It always amazed Alun how much the man could convey with a facial feature he’d never previously paid much attention to.
“It LOOKED like a bloody camera!” Owen attempted to defend himself. Not that it helped his case.
“When it comes to alien technology, looks can be deceptive, something you should be well aware of.”
Owen deflated. “I screwed up, okay?”
“Yes you did, and no, it’s not okay, especially not for Gwen.”
“Alright, I’m sorry, I was a prat ‘cause I was bored. But I didn’t think it would do…” he waved one hand vaguely in Gwen’s direction. “THAT to her!”
Jack was still staring at Gwen, or more accurately, at her tentacles. She sat there, a lumpy thing in shades of green and blue that looked a bit like a human-sized sea anemone, but with twenty or so tentacles sprouting from the top instead of cilia. They were restlessly coiling and uncoiling at random. As far as Alun could tell, she didn’t seem to be in any distress, but he wasn’t an expert on marine biology, or any kind of biology for that matter, earth-based or alien.
“Jack?”
No answer.
Ianto tried again, this time louder. “JACK!”
“Huh?” reluctantly, the man in question tore his gaze away from Gwen’s new form.
“Yes, Ianto?” His air of innocence didn’t fool Ianto for a second.
“Focus, please. I know you have trouble resisting the charms of a shapely tentacle, but I’m sure we’d all appreciate it if you could make an exception this time and keep your hands, and other body parts, to yourself. Regardless of her current appearance, Gwen is a married woman, and you don’t want to upset Rhys.” The word ‘again’ wasn’t uttered, but somehow it hung in the air anyway.
Jack sighed, clearly disappointed. “I suppose you’re right, he can be a bit excitable, but it’s a criminal waste of tentacles, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” Ianto fixed Jack with a stern glare, and once again Alun had to wonder who was really in charge around here.
“You’re no fun.” Jack pouted.
“You say that now…” Ianto turned to Owen. “Hadn’t you better check Gwen over, make sure she doesn’t have any special environmental needs in her current form?”
“Yeah, right, I’ll just get my scanners.” Owen scurried away.
“Tosh, could you take a look at the device, please?” Ianto glanced over at his friend.
“Already on it,” Tosh replied calmly.
Ianto gave Alun a reassuring smile. “Try not to worry, these things happen to all of us sooner or later. I’m sure it won’t be too long before Gwen’s herself again. Tosh is quite the expert on transformative technology.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Tosh agreed.
“How can you all be so calm about this?” Alun watched Owen examining Gwen with various pieces of medical equipment while Jack gazed covetously at her writhing tentacles.
“You get used to it,” Andy said, from somewhere behind him. He’d been so quiet up to now that Alun had forgotten he was even there. “After the fourth or fifth time you see weird stuff like this, you just start to accept it. Then by the time it happens to you, it’s just like a minor inconvenience. You put up with it until you’re changed back. It can even be sort of fun, depending on what you get turned into.”
“You’ve been… something else?”
“Yep! Call it an occupational hazard. Being an alien lobster was a bit boring though. They don’t really do much.”
Alun sat down on the nearest chair. Yes, everyone had warned him there’d be times like this, but it was still a shock to the system. He wondered if it would be bad form to have a nervous breakdown at this point.
Andy patted him on the shoulder. “Just breathe. You’ll be fine, and so will Gwen. She’s tough. Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“Tea. Yes. Thanks.” Alun let Andy pull him to his feet and steer him towards the kitchen, wondering how the hell they expected him to just get used to stuff like this. He pinched himself surreptitiously in the hopes that this might be nothing more than a really bizarre dream. No such luck.
There was no way around it, Torchwood was just plain weird.
The End