Fic- The Darkness Within 3
Title- The Darkness within 3
Author- Faythbrady
Show/Ship- Doctor Who. Doctor/Rose post Runaway Bride
Genre- Drama, dark
Rating- PG13 for scenes of a violent nature
Disclaimer- If I owned them this would be canon-- think on that.
Summary- Regeneration takes the pieces of you and turns them into something else. But what if a part of you didn't want to leave. What if your old self didn't agree with what you were doing? What if the animal within got out?
A/n- This is quite long and something I've been working on for some time-- one of the reason's I've not posted much fic. With thanks to my amazing beta-- Gargantua!
Chapter 3
Ianto looked up as a young man in a dark leather jacket strode into the shop like he owned it, his presence commanding and his aura one of power and decisiveness.
The leather-clad man offered a brief grin and started to browse the shop, flicking through postcards of interesting places to visit.
Ianto was in a somewhat good mood since Owen had stormed in here ten minutes ago in a bad one, muttering about mad men and stupid mobile phones. Anything that made Owen upset improved Ianto’s day by a hundred-fold.
It wasn’t that he disliked the obnoxious little shite. It was that he loathed and detested his condescending attitude and general air of arrogance and superiority. Ianto took great pleasure in annoying the man as much possible and anything that pissed off Owen, made Ianto’s day that little bit brighter. Petty, maybe, but definitely fun.
Ianto smiled at the man, inwardly thinking that he looked a little too nerdy to pull off the biker look.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Just looking, thanks,” he said, eyes flitting around the place quickly sizing it up and taking in every detail.
Ianto felt a flash of unease as the man’s eyes stayed a beat too long on the hidden door.
“Are you just visiting Wales? I can recommend some good spots, places of interest, local colour.”
The man glanced over his shoulder before flicking through the tour guides on display. “Bit of an odd place to have a tourist shop isn’t it? Bit out of the way.”
“It’s for people who are lost,” Ianto said calmly, wondering if this man with the northern accent was indeed lost or if he was fishing for something.
“Oh, don’t mind me, love places like this I do. Fantastic little shops tucked out of the way of the public. Innocuous, inconspicuous. There was a great one in Victorian London, shut down after the Ripper, of course. Made finding those out of place places a bit more dangerous with him around.” He looked over at Ianto who just stared back unruffled. “See, I’m a big one for things that are hidden. Out of the way.”
Okay, Ianto thought, if he wasn’t crazy, then he was at least disconcerting enough that Ianto wanted back-up. Ianto’s hand drifted down to the panic button under his desk which was linked directly to his boss’s desk.
One flash and Jack would come running … which was quite appropriate now he thought about it.
“Nothing hidden here, sir. Perhaps I could interest you in a guide book of Wales. Tenby is quite nice if you like walks. Welsh castles, some of them had hidden dungeons, secret passages.”
The Doctor felt a smirk edge around his face. “Oh, I love a secret passage.”
“That’s my line.”
The Doctor spun on his heel and his world tilted on its axis as a man came through the beaded curtain.
“Jack?”
Jack Harkness leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his blaster in his hand. “Hello, Doctor.”
>
The Doctor stared for a long moment at a man he never expected to see again, and then slipped his hands into his leather pockets, regarding him silently.
Jack tucked his blaster back into his belt. “When Owen came in moaning about some guy with a blue box and a buzzing pen, I knew it had to be you. Either that, or Cardiff’s gotten a lot stranger in the past 24 hours.”
“Doctor Owen Harper?” The Doctor scoffed. “That prat? Knew he had to work for you.”
“‘Work’ is a bit of an over-statement,” Ianto muttered and Jack smirked at the butler-esque man.
The Doctor was more concerned with the man in front of him, however, and regarded Jack steadily, an edge of curiosity creeping into his voice. “How-”
“Did I know it was you?” Jack interrupted. “Archive footage from the Canary Wharf battle was sent over here months ago.”
“Actually I was gonna go with; how did you get in a tourist booth in Wales? But yours works too.”
“Months?” the internal Doctor questioned. “How can it have been months? We left Donna at Christmas. It can’t be much past that.”
“What’s all this ‘we’ stuff?” he shot back quietly. “I wasn’t there. But it is a point, when are we?”
“Nice to know I inherited my piloting skills from a reliable source,” came the scathing retort.
“Oh, and I was the one who dumped Rose on a Space station alone, was I?”
“Twelve hours, twelve months. What’s a year between family?”
The Doctor bit his lip and wished he had the time to go into his own head and punch his future self.
Jack straightened, a dark cloud passing over his eyes, unaware of the Doctors internal struggle. “I saw everything that happened with Yvonne Hartman and Torchwood 1.”
“There’s more than one Torchwood?” the Doctor said quietly, almost to himself.
Jack merely snorted. “Course. Alien menace all over England, think one is gonna cut it? You’re in the Charter, you know that? Pissed off Queen Victoria; not your smartest move, Doc.”
“Regeneration’s been rough,” he said smoothly, his mind ticking away. “So you’re here, under the Millennium Centre. I’m guessin’ that makes you Torchwood, Cardiff?”
“Right in one.” Jack was distracted as his eyes flickered over the Doctor. “Hey, what’s with the retro look? I thought pin-stripes were in this year?”
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. “People change.”
“I’ll say.” Jack’s voice was cold even as his eyes drifted over the Doctor’s new form in a heated way.
The Doctor had always ignored Jack’s blatant innuendos and flirtation, knowing that, although Jack had a far more flexible attitude to multiple partners, Rose had no such flexibility. If he dared do anything with Jack it would ruin anything he could have with Rose. He had governed himself to not react to the come-ons, despite being vaguely interested. This body had had no such inoculation against Jack’s charms and he felt an uncomfortable blush fighting its way over his cheeks.
Ianto suddenly cleared his throat; bring Jack back to the present.
“Forgot my manners. Ianto Jones, this is the Doctor, Doctor this is Ianto. He’s a genius at making coffee. Actually, Ianto, could you fix that whilst I show the Doctor around?”
Ianto took the hint. “Yes, sir.”
“Prefer tea, thanks,” the Doctor said. “Milk, two sugars.”
“I can do that.” Ianto added smoothly. “Provided of course that you continue to annoy Owen.”
“That,” said Jack as the Doctor followed him through the beaded curtain, “is pretty much a given.”
>
The Doctor followed Jack down into the depths of Torchwood, actively not watching the deliberately seductive sway of his hips. His brain was on full overdrive dealing with the ramifications of Jack’s being alive and here; part of Torchwood.
“Jack, part of Torchwood?” The Doctor straightened as his future self perked up.
“Yeah,” he mumbled internally. “How ‘bout that?”
“Torchwood is the reason I lost, Rose.” His voice was low, hurt and angry and the Doctor watched the familiar head in front of him as he opened a sealed room.
“Torchwood exists because you were too damn cocky,” he challenged his future self. “You pissed off Queen Victoria with your arrogance and Rose paid for that. Don’t blame Jack for that when you forgot him.”
Inside his head the new Doctor fell silent, chastened.
While he relished the silence, the older Doctor also felt somewhat ashamed by his lack of attention to Jack’s predicament. To be honest he had been too preoccupied with Rose, Bad Wolf, and his painful regeneration to realise that Jack was still alive. He’d heard the Dalek ray and Jack’s final words and he assumed him dead.
By the time his future self had sat down to commemorate Jack’s memory and realised that he was still alive, Jack was irrecoverably intertwined with the time line and couldn’t be removed. So the new Doctor had just left him, letting him think he was abandoned by those who claimed to love him.
Another point of contention against the pretty boy; it was all mounting up.
Jack peered over at the quiet man trailing behind him, wondering where the ebullient man of the Canary Wharf tapes had gone. That man seemed to have no lack of things to say, talking nineteen-to-the-dozen at all times, whereas this one seemed to be more like the Doctor he remembered; quiet and watchful.
“You okay, Doc?”
“I will be when you stop calling me that,” he replied absently and Jack grinned. That was more like it.
“Sure thing, Doc.”
The Doctor would have commented on that with force and volume but he was caught by the fact that they had arrived in Torchwood central. Jack beamed over his shoulder as he pushed a button and the circular doorway in front of them rolled away showing teeth, like a great cog blocking their way.
“Welcome to the Hub.”
It was not how he imagined it. The Doctor had seen the London branch and equated all Torchwoods with the same pristine lines and smooth operation masking a diabolical cold-hearted determination and a patriotism that bordered on psychosis.
This was nothing like that. The Torchwood of Cardiff was more economical, built along lines of necessity and not aesthetics. London had been all white walls and clean cut corners; Cardiff was rough stone and dark, damp dreary lighting.
London had been mean and greedy; Cardiff seemed to be empty and industrious.
The stench of water filled the Doctor’s sensitive nose and he looked up to the huge column that sat in the centre of the Hub, stretching to the sky like a crystal temple, water cascading down its sides in a liquid profusion of waves. As his eyes drifted from the beautiful aquatic feature he saw something drift in front and allowed his mouth to drop slightly at the Pterodactyl as it soared by.
“Pterodactyl are not exactly native to Cardiff,” he managed and Jack laughed.
“Yeah, it’s a pet, now. C’mon, meet the guys.”
There were at least four work-stations that he could see; two manned by women staring at computers and holding paper files. Another had computers winking away, flashing information faster than any human eye could cope with, and the final station had-
“Oi, Harkness, when I said there was a prat on our emergency exit, I didn’t mean for you to bring ‘im in ‘ere! Or are we open to charity cases now?” The pouty faced man the Doctor had encountered outside was glaring over the top of another work station, pen in his mouth and white lab coat casually thrown over the back of his chair.
Owen sat up, still talking. “I mean, I thought this was a secret establishment, yeah? First of all we get Polly the Policewoman-” he glanced over his shoulder to one of the women, “-no offence.”
“And yet still offended,” she shot back.
“Now what? I thought there was a ‘No Civilians’ zone.”
“But you obviously have an open door policy on morons.” The Doctor shook his head in exasperation as he turned to Jack. “Where did you pick this one up?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Jack swallowed his amusement. “Owen Harper, you’ve met. This is Gwen Cooper; she’s a policewoman on the side, useful to have liaisons with the local PD.”
Owen snorted at the double entendre while the Doctor rolled his eyes and then focused on the dark-haired woman who was watching him curiously. “Hello!” he said jovially. “Is it Sergeant Gwen Cooper?”
“No,” she said with a strong Welsh accent, “Just P.C, never made it that far before getting caught up with this lot. Far more exciting.”
“And dangerous,” the Doctor added, suddenly frowning. “Have I seen you before?”
Gwen blinked. “No, I don’t think so. Unless you’ve had run ins with the Cardiff constabulary?”
“Not in the last hundred years,” the Doctor offered and then turned to the other woman. “Hello.”
“This is Doctor Toshiko Sato, she …”
“We’ve met.”
Jack was wrong-footed. “What?”
Toshiko, herself, looked a little confused. “No, we haven’t.”
“Yes we have, Albian Hospital, few years ago.” He beamed. “We dissected a pig together.”
Tosh blinked at him, her cute face scrunched in bewilderment. “You can’t be.”
“Damn Military shot it, just when you were getting to the heart of it all, found you in the lab covered in blood. Just before the bomb hit Downing Street.”
Toshiko’s mouth dropped open. “But you look completely different, Doctor.”
“Regeneration,” he replied ruefully, sticking his hands into his pockets. “My whole body changes when it gets close to death, it’s a Time Lord trick.”
Tosh’s eyes opened wide. “Fascinating.”
Jack’s amazed gaze fell between Tosh and the Doctor. “Wait, you guys know each other and you never mentioned it? Never dropped into conversation the tiny fact that you knew the Doctor?”
“I thought he’d died in the explosion in Downing Street along with UNIT,” Tosh defended. “Besides, you never asked.”
“So, what do you think of this body then,” the Doctor asked idly. “Too pretty, isn’t it? Preferred the old me, had more character. This one’s too generic, don’t you think?””
“Oi!”
Tosh didn’t know what to say. “Well, I don’t really-”
“It’s okay,” The Doctor added, feeling the new Doctor getting more riled up. “Skinny streak of piss. This regeneration looks a bit like a weasel. I’m not impressed.”
“You’re not exactly a picture, yourself.”
“And it’s not ginger.”
“That’s right, rub it in.”
“I kinda like it,” Jack said, eyeing the body.
“You once flirted with a Bavarian Flaxen Bug,” he said with a shudder. “You have no taste.”
“Wait, let me get this straight,” Owen Harper interrupted. “Torchwood charter, yeah. Foundation 1879; This Great British Institute exists to protect the boundaries of Greater Britain blah blah blah against enemies from other worlds to stop their heretical and blasphemous interference yada yada yada oh, yeah and especially from the Doctor and his companion who are enemies of the Crown.”
Everyone was looking at him.
Tosh broke first. “You read the charter?”
“You can read?” the Doctor was less impressed, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
Owen glowered. “The Doctor as in this bloke here? Number one enemy of Torchwood and you bring him in for coffee?”
“Tea, actually,” Ianto interjected smoothly as he entered with a tray perfectly aligned with mugs of tea, coffee and a plate of biscuits. “Two sugars and milk.”
“Thanks.” The Doctor took the tea with a smirk at Owen’s infuriated face.
“No problem.” Ianto hid his own grin at Owen’s evident displeasure and hoped the Doctor would stay for quite a while.
“So, we’re giving enemies of the Crown tea and a tour?” Owen spat and Jack jumped.
“That’s right, you’ve not seen everything.” Jack grabbed his own mug with a devoted smile at Ianto and gestured around the Hub. “This is Torchwood’s base of operation in Cardiff. Basically we run alongside the rift and as such we get all the fall out of the space time crap that drifts in. We track it, ascertain if it’s dangerous and deal with it either way.” He sounded so proud.
“Look at you,” the Doctor said sarcastically, “policing time. Still.”
Jack’s face fell a little and the Doctor cursed his big mouth. He’d still not learnt to control that part of him.
“Yeah, well, it’s like what you do but on a smaller scale.” He looked away.
“Nice one, Mr. Sensitive.”
“It’s not me that left Jack all alone without any idea what happened or even how to get off the Satellite. Time Lords who live in glass houses and all that.”
The truth was that he was proud of Jack and all he’d achieved; from scamming Time Agents to leading Torchwood and the human race into the twenty-first century. From con-man to hero in next to no time. It was amazing really.
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Nah, s’good work, here, Jack. I’m impressed.”
“Yeah?” Jack seemed to search for approval and found it, standing that little bit taller. “We do our best and I’ve got a great team.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Owen groused.
Jack reconsidered. “Okay, it’s a good team.”
But the Doctor was miles away. “So, the rift is still active then?”
“Yeah.” Jack shoved his hands into his pockets. “It was pretty quiet for a while, but occasionally things still slipped through, Weevils and whatever. After the Battle of Canary Wharf, though, we’ve been getting all sorts. Resurrection gloves and space debris, broken bits of ships and shuttles, even had half a Tyranium garbage terrain vehicle come through.”
“We only figured what it was after one of us had waded through it.” Ianto smirked and Owen flushed bright red.
The Doctor laughed at the thought of desiccated and mouldy food scraps from the junk food capital of the universe. “Ooh nasty.”
“But the magnetic pull, the rift energy has been attracting all sorts of attention. Cardiff is alien central, Doctor. And I mean all sorts; we’ve had fairies and squid and political prisoners and all kinda crap. It’s getting worse.” Jack was intent on the Doctor now. “It’s getting much worse and the human race is not ready.”
The Doctor folded his arms. “It’ll have to get ready, Jack. You know as well as I do that the twenty-first century is when it all happens.”
“When what happens?” Tosh asked intrigued about the subtext clearly being exchanged between the two men.
“Contact, between human and alien,” Jack explained. “The twenty-first century is when humans accept that aliens exist.”
“But they don’t, do they?” Owen said with a deep sarcastic vein. “I mean half the idiots we save are brushed off with swamp gas and student prank excuses.”
“But you accept aliens.” The Doctor watched Owen carefully.
“We’ve seen ‘em.”
“And the big ship hanging over London during Christmas? Sycorax invading, half the population ready to jump? Star in the sky shooting at the city? Cybermen and Daleks fighting?” The Doctor was getting louder and more annoyed. “Bloody stupid apes. Ignore anything you don’t understand even when it’s staring you right in the face.”
Gwen frowned. “You talk like you’re not human.”
“I’m not.”
“You look human.”
The Doctor put his head on the side and regarded her steadily. “Do I?”
Gwen looked deeply into the brown eyes that looked so very old, eyes that had watched star systems die and loved ones fall, eyes that had watched the Earth become nothing and witnessed-caused-the genocide of his own people, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure. He radiated danger and her eyes slid away from his as ice crept through her veins. She bit her lip and looked to Jack for direction.
“The Doctor is unique, but no, he’s not human,” he clarified.
“So, what are you then?” Owen asked.
“Would you know it even if I told you?” The Doctor was getting annoyed at all the constant questions. He’d never liked to be second guessed, even by his own people and he wasn’t about to allow some stupid ape barely out of the trees with delusions of grandeur interrogate him.
“And what about your companion, then?” Owen pushed, realising that he wasn’t going to answer. “Mentioned in the charter. Doctor and companion.”
That was more like it, this was the reason he was here.
“Her name is Rose.” The Doctor straightened and turned to face Jack. “And she’s the reason I’m here.”
Jack looked sad and the expression added centuries to his face, making the Doctor wonder exactly what was up with Jack and how long he’d been here. “I saw the footage of Canary Wharf, Doctor. I know she’s gone.”
Gone. Gone as in can never come back, gone as in not there any more. Gone as in Gone.
The Doctor reached out a hand subconsciously, searching for a soft palm to ease his pain.
But she was gone.
His fist clenched.
There was darkness in his expression, a deep fathomless, pitiless pain that dwarfed all other emotions until the deep blue gaze was perceptibly not human, and definitely not sane. The four humans staring at him had never felt so in the presence of an alien, even when they stood in front of a Weevil with its twisted features. Right now, even that speechless monstrosity was less of a danger than the Doctor.
He turned to Jack. “You’re going to help me get her back,” he said, both his tone and expression clearly stating that, even if Jack were to disagree, there was no way in hell he was taking no for an answer.
Author- Faythbrady
Show/Ship- Doctor Who. Doctor/Rose post Runaway Bride
Genre- Drama, dark
Rating- PG13 for scenes of a violent nature
Disclaimer- If I owned them this would be canon-- think on that.
Summary- Regeneration takes the pieces of you and turns them into something else. But what if a part of you didn't want to leave. What if your old self didn't agree with what you were doing? What if the animal within got out?
A/n- This is quite long and something I've been working on for some time-- one of the reason's I've not posted much fic. With thanks to my amazing beta-- Gargantua!
Chapter 3
Ianto looked up as a young man in a dark leather jacket strode into the shop like he owned it, his presence commanding and his aura one of power and decisiveness.
The leather-clad man offered a brief grin and started to browse the shop, flicking through postcards of interesting places to visit.
Ianto was in a somewhat good mood since Owen had stormed in here ten minutes ago in a bad one, muttering about mad men and stupid mobile phones. Anything that made Owen upset improved Ianto’s day by a hundred-fold.
It wasn’t that he disliked the obnoxious little shite. It was that he loathed and detested his condescending attitude and general air of arrogance and superiority. Ianto took great pleasure in annoying the man as much possible and anything that pissed off Owen, made Ianto’s day that little bit brighter. Petty, maybe, but definitely fun.
Ianto smiled at the man, inwardly thinking that he looked a little too nerdy to pull off the biker look.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Just looking, thanks,” he said, eyes flitting around the place quickly sizing it up and taking in every detail.
Ianto felt a flash of unease as the man’s eyes stayed a beat too long on the hidden door.
“Are you just visiting Wales? I can recommend some good spots, places of interest, local colour.”
The man glanced over his shoulder before flicking through the tour guides on display. “Bit of an odd place to have a tourist shop isn’t it? Bit out of the way.”
“It’s for people who are lost,” Ianto said calmly, wondering if this man with the northern accent was indeed lost or if he was fishing for something.
“Oh, don’t mind me, love places like this I do. Fantastic little shops tucked out of the way of the public. Innocuous, inconspicuous. There was a great one in Victorian London, shut down after the Ripper, of course. Made finding those out of place places a bit more dangerous with him around.” He looked over at Ianto who just stared back unruffled. “See, I’m a big one for things that are hidden. Out of the way.”
Okay, Ianto thought, if he wasn’t crazy, then he was at least disconcerting enough that Ianto wanted back-up. Ianto’s hand drifted down to the panic button under his desk which was linked directly to his boss’s desk.
One flash and Jack would come running … which was quite appropriate now he thought about it.
“Nothing hidden here, sir. Perhaps I could interest you in a guide book of Wales. Tenby is quite nice if you like walks. Welsh castles, some of them had hidden dungeons, secret passages.”
The Doctor felt a smirk edge around his face. “Oh, I love a secret passage.”
“That’s my line.”
The Doctor spun on his heel and his world tilted on its axis as a man came through the beaded curtain.
“Jack?”
Jack Harkness leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his blaster in his hand. “Hello, Doctor.”
>
The Doctor stared for a long moment at a man he never expected to see again, and then slipped his hands into his leather pockets, regarding him silently.
Jack tucked his blaster back into his belt. “When Owen came in moaning about some guy with a blue box and a buzzing pen, I knew it had to be you. Either that, or Cardiff’s gotten a lot stranger in the past 24 hours.”
“Doctor Owen Harper?” The Doctor scoffed. “That prat? Knew he had to work for you.”
“‘Work’ is a bit of an over-statement,” Ianto muttered and Jack smirked at the butler-esque man.
The Doctor was more concerned with the man in front of him, however, and regarded Jack steadily, an edge of curiosity creeping into his voice. “How-”
“Did I know it was you?” Jack interrupted. “Archive footage from the Canary Wharf battle was sent over here months ago.”
“Actually I was gonna go with; how did you get in a tourist booth in Wales? But yours works too.”
“Months?” the internal Doctor questioned. “How can it have been months? We left Donna at Christmas. It can’t be much past that.”
“What’s all this ‘we’ stuff?” he shot back quietly. “I wasn’t there. But it is a point, when are we?”
“Nice to know I inherited my piloting skills from a reliable source,” came the scathing retort.
“Oh, and I was the one who dumped Rose on a Space station alone, was I?”
“Twelve hours, twelve months. What’s a year between family?”
The Doctor bit his lip and wished he had the time to go into his own head and punch his future self.
Jack straightened, a dark cloud passing over his eyes, unaware of the Doctors internal struggle. “I saw everything that happened with Yvonne Hartman and Torchwood 1.”
“There’s more than one Torchwood?” the Doctor said quietly, almost to himself.
Jack merely snorted. “Course. Alien menace all over England, think one is gonna cut it? You’re in the Charter, you know that? Pissed off Queen Victoria; not your smartest move, Doc.”
“Regeneration’s been rough,” he said smoothly, his mind ticking away. “So you’re here, under the Millennium Centre. I’m guessin’ that makes you Torchwood, Cardiff?”
“Right in one.” Jack was distracted as his eyes flickered over the Doctor. “Hey, what’s with the retro look? I thought pin-stripes were in this year?”
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. “People change.”
“I’ll say.” Jack’s voice was cold even as his eyes drifted over the Doctor’s new form in a heated way.
The Doctor had always ignored Jack’s blatant innuendos and flirtation, knowing that, although Jack had a far more flexible attitude to multiple partners, Rose had no such flexibility. If he dared do anything with Jack it would ruin anything he could have with Rose. He had governed himself to not react to the come-ons, despite being vaguely interested. This body had had no such inoculation against Jack’s charms and he felt an uncomfortable blush fighting its way over his cheeks.
Ianto suddenly cleared his throat; bring Jack back to the present.
“Forgot my manners. Ianto Jones, this is the Doctor, Doctor this is Ianto. He’s a genius at making coffee. Actually, Ianto, could you fix that whilst I show the Doctor around?”
Ianto took the hint. “Yes, sir.”
“Prefer tea, thanks,” the Doctor said. “Milk, two sugars.”
“I can do that.” Ianto added smoothly. “Provided of course that you continue to annoy Owen.”
“That,” said Jack as the Doctor followed him through the beaded curtain, “is pretty much a given.”
>
The Doctor followed Jack down into the depths of Torchwood, actively not watching the deliberately seductive sway of his hips. His brain was on full overdrive dealing with the ramifications of Jack’s being alive and here; part of Torchwood.
“Jack, part of Torchwood?” The Doctor straightened as his future self perked up.
“Yeah,” he mumbled internally. “How ‘bout that?”
“Torchwood is the reason I lost, Rose.” His voice was low, hurt and angry and the Doctor watched the familiar head in front of him as he opened a sealed room.
“Torchwood exists because you were too damn cocky,” he challenged his future self. “You pissed off Queen Victoria with your arrogance and Rose paid for that. Don’t blame Jack for that when you forgot him.”
Inside his head the new Doctor fell silent, chastened.
While he relished the silence, the older Doctor also felt somewhat ashamed by his lack of attention to Jack’s predicament. To be honest he had been too preoccupied with Rose, Bad Wolf, and his painful regeneration to realise that Jack was still alive. He’d heard the Dalek ray and Jack’s final words and he assumed him dead.
By the time his future self had sat down to commemorate Jack’s memory and realised that he was still alive, Jack was irrecoverably intertwined with the time line and couldn’t be removed. So the new Doctor had just left him, letting him think he was abandoned by those who claimed to love him.
Another point of contention against the pretty boy; it was all mounting up.
Jack peered over at the quiet man trailing behind him, wondering where the ebullient man of the Canary Wharf tapes had gone. That man seemed to have no lack of things to say, talking nineteen-to-the-dozen at all times, whereas this one seemed to be more like the Doctor he remembered; quiet and watchful.
“You okay, Doc?”
“I will be when you stop calling me that,” he replied absently and Jack grinned. That was more like it.
“Sure thing, Doc.”
The Doctor would have commented on that with force and volume but he was caught by the fact that they had arrived in Torchwood central. Jack beamed over his shoulder as he pushed a button and the circular doorway in front of them rolled away showing teeth, like a great cog blocking their way.
“Welcome to the Hub.”
It was not how he imagined it. The Doctor had seen the London branch and equated all Torchwoods with the same pristine lines and smooth operation masking a diabolical cold-hearted determination and a patriotism that bordered on psychosis.
This was nothing like that. The Torchwood of Cardiff was more economical, built along lines of necessity and not aesthetics. London had been all white walls and clean cut corners; Cardiff was rough stone and dark, damp dreary lighting.
London had been mean and greedy; Cardiff seemed to be empty and industrious.
The stench of water filled the Doctor’s sensitive nose and he looked up to the huge column that sat in the centre of the Hub, stretching to the sky like a crystal temple, water cascading down its sides in a liquid profusion of waves. As his eyes drifted from the beautiful aquatic feature he saw something drift in front and allowed his mouth to drop slightly at the Pterodactyl as it soared by.
“Pterodactyl are not exactly native to Cardiff,” he managed and Jack laughed.
“Yeah, it’s a pet, now. C’mon, meet the guys.”
There were at least four work-stations that he could see; two manned by women staring at computers and holding paper files. Another had computers winking away, flashing information faster than any human eye could cope with, and the final station had-
“Oi, Harkness, when I said there was a prat on our emergency exit, I didn’t mean for you to bring ‘im in ‘ere! Or are we open to charity cases now?” The pouty faced man the Doctor had encountered outside was glaring over the top of another work station, pen in his mouth and white lab coat casually thrown over the back of his chair.
Owen sat up, still talking. “I mean, I thought this was a secret establishment, yeah? First of all we get Polly the Policewoman-” he glanced over his shoulder to one of the women, “-no offence.”
“And yet still offended,” she shot back.
“Now what? I thought there was a ‘No Civilians’ zone.”
“But you obviously have an open door policy on morons.” The Doctor shook his head in exasperation as he turned to Jack. “Where did you pick this one up?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Jack swallowed his amusement. “Owen Harper, you’ve met. This is Gwen Cooper; she’s a policewoman on the side, useful to have liaisons with the local PD.”
Owen snorted at the double entendre while the Doctor rolled his eyes and then focused on the dark-haired woman who was watching him curiously. “Hello!” he said jovially. “Is it Sergeant Gwen Cooper?”
“No,” she said with a strong Welsh accent, “Just P.C, never made it that far before getting caught up with this lot. Far more exciting.”
“And dangerous,” the Doctor added, suddenly frowning. “Have I seen you before?”
Gwen blinked. “No, I don’t think so. Unless you’ve had run ins with the Cardiff constabulary?”
“Not in the last hundred years,” the Doctor offered and then turned to the other woman. “Hello.”
“This is Doctor Toshiko Sato, she …”
“We’ve met.”
Jack was wrong-footed. “What?”
Toshiko, herself, looked a little confused. “No, we haven’t.”
“Yes we have, Albian Hospital, few years ago.” He beamed. “We dissected a pig together.”
Tosh blinked at him, her cute face scrunched in bewilderment. “You can’t be.”
“Damn Military shot it, just when you were getting to the heart of it all, found you in the lab covered in blood. Just before the bomb hit Downing Street.”
Toshiko’s mouth dropped open. “But you look completely different, Doctor.”
“Regeneration,” he replied ruefully, sticking his hands into his pockets. “My whole body changes when it gets close to death, it’s a Time Lord trick.”
Tosh’s eyes opened wide. “Fascinating.”
Jack’s amazed gaze fell between Tosh and the Doctor. “Wait, you guys know each other and you never mentioned it? Never dropped into conversation the tiny fact that you knew the Doctor?”
“I thought he’d died in the explosion in Downing Street along with UNIT,” Tosh defended. “Besides, you never asked.”
“So, what do you think of this body then,” the Doctor asked idly. “Too pretty, isn’t it? Preferred the old me, had more character. This one’s too generic, don’t you think?””
“Oi!”
Tosh didn’t know what to say. “Well, I don’t really-”
“It’s okay,” The Doctor added, feeling the new Doctor getting more riled up. “Skinny streak of piss. This regeneration looks a bit like a weasel. I’m not impressed.”
“You’re not exactly a picture, yourself.”
“And it’s not ginger.”
“That’s right, rub it in.”
“I kinda like it,” Jack said, eyeing the body.
“You once flirted with a Bavarian Flaxen Bug,” he said with a shudder. “You have no taste.”
“Wait, let me get this straight,” Owen Harper interrupted. “Torchwood charter, yeah. Foundation 1879; This Great British Institute exists to protect the boundaries of Greater Britain blah blah blah against enemies from other worlds to stop their heretical and blasphemous interference yada yada yada oh, yeah and especially from the Doctor and his companion who are enemies of the Crown.”
Everyone was looking at him.
Tosh broke first. “You read the charter?”
“You can read?” the Doctor was less impressed, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
Owen glowered. “The Doctor as in this bloke here? Number one enemy of Torchwood and you bring him in for coffee?”
“Tea, actually,” Ianto interjected smoothly as he entered with a tray perfectly aligned with mugs of tea, coffee and a plate of biscuits. “Two sugars and milk.”
“Thanks.” The Doctor took the tea with a smirk at Owen’s infuriated face.
“No problem.” Ianto hid his own grin at Owen’s evident displeasure and hoped the Doctor would stay for quite a while.
“So, we’re giving enemies of the Crown tea and a tour?” Owen spat and Jack jumped.
“That’s right, you’ve not seen everything.” Jack grabbed his own mug with a devoted smile at Ianto and gestured around the Hub. “This is Torchwood’s base of operation in Cardiff. Basically we run alongside the rift and as such we get all the fall out of the space time crap that drifts in. We track it, ascertain if it’s dangerous and deal with it either way.” He sounded so proud.
“Look at you,” the Doctor said sarcastically, “policing time. Still.”
Jack’s face fell a little and the Doctor cursed his big mouth. He’d still not learnt to control that part of him.
“Yeah, well, it’s like what you do but on a smaller scale.” He looked away.
“Nice one, Mr. Sensitive.”
“It’s not me that left Jack all alone without any idea what happened or even how to get off the Satellite. Time Lords who live in glass houses and all that.”
The truth was that he was proud of Jack and all he’d achieved; from scamming Time Agents to leading Torchwood and the human race into the twenty-first century. From con-man to hero in next to no time. It was amazing really.
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Nah, s’good work, here, Jack. I’m impressed.”
“Yeah?” Jack seemed to search for approval and found it, standing that little bit taller. “We do our best and I’ve got a great team.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Owen groused.
Jack reconsidered. “Okay, it’s a good team.”
But the Doctor was miles away. “So, the rift is still active then?”
“Yeah.” Jack shoved his hands into his pockets. “It was pretty quiet for a while, but occasionally things still slipped through, Weevils and whatever. After the Battle of Canary Wharf, though, we’ve been getting all sorts. Resurrection gloves and space debris, broken bits of ships and shuttles, even had half a Tyranium garbage terrain vehicle come through.”
“We only figured what it was after one of us had waded through it.” Ianto smirked and Owen flushed bright red.
The Doctor laughed at the thought of desiccated and mouldy food scraps from the junk food capital of the universe. “Ooh nasty.”
“But the magnetic pull, the rift energy has been attracting all sorts of attention. Cardiff is alien central, Doctor. And I mean all sorts; we’ve had fairies and squid and political prisoners and all kinda crap. It’s getting worse.” Jack was intent on the Doctor now. “It’s getting much worse and the human race is not ready.”
The Doctor folded his arms. “It’ll have to get ready, Jack. You know as well as I do that the twenty-first century is when it all happens.”
“When what happens?” Tosh asked intrigued about the subtext clearly being exchanged between the two men.
“Contact, between human and alien,” Jack explained. “The twenty-first century is when humans accept that aliens exist.”
“But they don’t, do they?” Owen said with a deep sarcastic vein. “I mean half the idiots we save are brushed off with swamp gas and student prank excuses.”
“But you accept aliens.” The Doctor watched Owen carefully.
“We’ve seen ‘em.”
“And the big ship hanging over London during Christmas? Sycorax invading, half the population ready to jump? Star in the sky shooting at the city? Cybermen and Daleks fighting?” The Doctor was getting louder and more annoyed. “Bloody stupid apes. Ignore anything you don’t understand even when it’s staring you right in the face.”
Gwen frowned. “You talk like you’re not human.”
“I’m not.”
“You look human.”
The Doctor put his head on the side and regarded her steadily. “Do I?”
Gwen looked deeply into the brown eyes that looked so very old, eyes that had watched star systems die and loved ones fall, eyes that had watched the Earth become nothing and witnessed-caused-the genocide of his own people, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure. He radiated danger and her eyes slid away from his as ice crept through her veins. She bit her lip and looked to Jack for direction.
“The Doctor is unique, but no, he’s not human,” he clarified.
“So, what are you then?” Owen asked.
“Would you know it even if I told you?” The Doctor was getting annoyed at all the constant questions. He’d never liked to be second guessed, even by his own people and he wasn’t about to allow some stupid ape barely out of the trees with delusions of grandeur interrogate him.
“And what about your companion, then?” Owen pushed, realising that he wasn’t going to answer. “Mentioned in the charter. Doctor and companion.”
That was more like it, this was the reason he was here.
“Her name is Rose.” The Doctor straightened and turned to face Jack. “And she’s the reason I’m here.”
Jack looked sad and the expression added centuries to his face, making the Doctor wonder exactly what was up with Jack and how long he’d been here. “I saw the footage of Canary Wharf, Doctor. I know she’s gone.”
Gone. Gone as in can never come back, gone as in not there any more. Gone as in Gone.
The Doctor reached out a hand subconsciously, searching for a soft palm to ease his pain.
But she was gone.
His fist clenched.
There was darkness in his expression, a deep fathomless, pitiless pain that dwarfed all other emotions until the deep blue gaze was perceptibly not human, and definitely not sane. The four humans staring at him had never felt so in the presence of an alien, even when they stood in front of a Weevil with its twisted features. Right now, even that speechless monstrosity was less of a danger than the Doctor.
He turned to Jack. “You’re going to help me get her back,” he said, both his tone and expression clearly stating that, even if Jack were to disagree, there was no way in hell he was taking no for an answer.