Torchwood/Doctor Who - fic - The Torchwood Girls, part 7, Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs, PG
Thanks again for the lovely comments. I'm happy people are enjoying this. As the war gets closer, the story gets a little darker.
Title - The Torchwood Girls
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs
Rating - PG
Length - 1392 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: 1.9-13, 2.2, 3.8/9 and 3.11-13
Summary - “None of those items are of this time. Like the pendant we used with some of you, most aren’t even of this planet.” Audible gasps, all around the room.
Disclaimer: alas, none of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Thanks to hellenebright for the shotgun/rifle info.
Part 1
Part 2 accompanying art by _medley_
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Whistle, Jack/Rose, rated 15/R (in the past of this 'verse) accompanying art
Part 6
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
Part 7
It’s after hearing Jack and Joan speaking to a number of previously unknown women on the telephone on the 1st of July that Michael becomes suspicious.
The two of them are seemingly planning something that the rest of the team haven’t been party to. The seventh call of the day finished, he goes to confront the pair. “What are you two keeping from the rest of us?” he asks, standing in the open doorway of Jack’s office.
Jack goes very pale, and scrubs his hand over his face. Michael almost wishes he hadn’t asked. “Jack?” he gently prompts, walking in and just taking a seat.
***
Jack sighs. Why did he ever think that he could keep his plan from any of his people, smart men that have been with him for years? What he’s gonna tell him? What’s he gonna tell all four of his men?
He’s been trying to ignore it, but he’s known for at least the last year. They’ve never really questioned why he knows so much about alien technology and future machinery, just kind of accepted that he does. But now, it has to be the whole truth; his plan, the war, fifty-first century, his name, the Time Agency, 1941, Rose, the Doctor, all of it. Not yet, though, he needs to use it as a send off to them; a kiss before dying. But he can tell Michael some truth, right now. “Joan and I spent the spring rounding up potential recruits. They’re ringing to confirm that they’ll be coming to see us in a fortnight.”
“And just how many of them are you planning to hire, Jack? Do any of us need to worry about our jobs?”
More than you know, Michael. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that. Not just now, anyway. But I will, Michael, I promise.” He’s clearly not happy, but he looks like he’ll be able to live with what he’s been told. Jack’s very grateful that the phone then rings, for yet another time that day.
“Torchwood, Captain Jack Harkness speaking,” he announces, picking it up, and watching Michael leave his office.
“Captain, this is Eleanor Smythe.”
“Eleanor!” he greets. “Still coming to see us?”
”Of course, sir,” she says brightly. ”What’s the date and itinerary for the day?”
“Saturday July the 18th, and there’ll be information about Torchwood, some tests, that kinda thing.”
”Not more bloody exams!” Eleanor exclaims, but Jack can hear she’s half joking. ”I’ve just sat enough of them to last me a lifetime!”
“We do need to make sure you can actually do this job, Eleanor,” Jack says. “Between you and me, though,” he whispers, conspiratorially, “I’ve always hated tests.”
Eleanor laughs. ”I think we may get on exceptionally well, Captain. I look forward to meeting you and Joan again.”
“As do we, Eleanor.” Jack gives her directions and then says, “See you soon.”
“Goodbye, Captain.”
They hang up on each other. “I like her,” Jack says, smiling.
“So I’d gathered. Is that because she’s reasonably pretty, or because of her fondness for weapons?” Joan asks.
“Both.” He grins, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Your turn, next time,” he tells her. “Only another seven to go, thank goodness.” Jack’s silent for a couple of minutes. Sighing, he says, “I hate this, Joan. I absolutely hate it.” She takes his hand in hers, offering comfort, and they wait for the next call.
***
As his loss looms ever closer on the horizon, with the news on July the 17th that Serbia has called up 70,000 reservists and is preparing for war, Jack puts the final touches to the timetable for Saturday. He gathers up a few of the safer alien objects and some pieces of future technology, ensures the Retcon’s prepared.
He knows exactly what he’s going to say, though, that part needs no planning.
***
The following day, they’re descended upon by fifteen women. Each one reports to the office which serves as their cover and she’s then given access to the Hub by one of Jack’s people.
All twenty-one of them are gathered together in one of the board rooms, with the Metazonican toy, a chamelace, a mobile phone, the Rexel Eight replicator and the differential analyser on the table. The women, apart from Joan, are sat at the table, papers in front of them, courtesy of the photocopier that very helpfully appeared in the Hub back in May.
With one spare cartridge in the cupboard.
They could only hope that an effective replicator would also appear, before the spare was required. He and Ioan had had to do a fair amount of pretty complicated engineering to get it to work on the Hub's power, and it would be a real shame to let that work go to waste.
Jack looks around the room, takes a deep breath and begins. “Ladies, welcome to Torchwood. Thank you for coming. If I and Joan Redfern tricked you when we first met you, I again apologise. Now, could you take a look at the objects on the table and tell us what you think about them. None of them are dangerous, so press all the buttons you want."
There’s animated chatter and discussion; the first woman to press a control on the scapesono almost yelps in surprise. After half an hour, Jack holds up a hand; the women notice and fall silent.
“None of those items are of this time. Like the pendant we used with some of you, most aren’t even of this planet.” Audible gasps, all around the room.
“Yeah, all those stories HG Wells wrote are true, basically. Torchwood has responsibility for alien life and technology that ends up on Earth. We’re sitting right on top of a rift in space and time; all kinds of stuff just washes straight through. I’ll explain more later, but please could you have a look at the founding report, which states what we also have responsibility for?”
He lets them read about the incident on the Torchwood Estate and the banishment of the Doctor and Rose from the Empire. It’s the last few lines that always make Jack conflicted:
... if this Doctor should return, he should beware. Because Torchwood will be waiting.
After fifteen minutes, Dr Penelope White, from King’s College, looks up at him. “Captain Harkness?”
“Yeah, Dr White?”
“The Doctor and Miss Tyler saved Her late Majesty’s life. And then she banished them?”
“He does manage to annoy people very easily, by the sound of it. Wouldn’t you have done the same?” There’s awkward laughter from everyone. ”All right, all right. The next thing I want to know is who can fire a gun, or would like to learn how?” Six of the women raise their hands, including Eleanor Smythe. “You’re all with me, then, ladies. The rest of you, Ioan and Michael will deal with.”
***
They enter the firing range and Jack watches everyone’s eyes light up at the weapons and ammunition on display. He has several girls after his own heart, then. Allowing himself a grin, he then shifts into business mode. “If we hired you, you would need to know how to use these. And yes, not all of these guns were made by human hands. Like the items you saw upstairs, they fell through the Rift, got left behind, or were salvaged from wrecks. Those of you can already shoot, can you tell me what you’re able to use?”
A couple of the women tell him about their ability with pistols. Jack lets them examine at his treasured Webley revolver and then prompts, “Eleanor? What about you?”
“A twelve gauge, double barrel, Purdey shotgun, a fowling gun and a Mauser '98 pattern bolt-action rifle,” she reels off, grinning.
Jack whistles. He’d suspected as much, but still... ”That’s pretty impressive.”
“On the Scottish estate that belongs to one of Daddy’s friends, I’ve shot stags with my Purdey. In 1910, the summer before I went up, Daddy took me, my brother and Mother to Kenya. I shot a couple of lions with my Mauser.”
That’s maybe not so impressive, but Jack keeps his opinion to himself, and forgets that he knows the exact date lions became extinct in the wild. Instead, he takes a weapon from the table and asks, “Let’s see how you do with this fifty-first century blaster, shall we?”
TBC
crosspost:
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
torchwoodgenfic
dwfiction
new_who
galactic_conman
john_joan
Teaspoon
Title - The Torchwood Girls
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs
Rating - PG
Length - 1392 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: 1.9-13, 2.2, 3.8/9 and 3.11-13
Summary - “None of those items are of this time. Like the pendant we used with some of you, most aren’t even of this planet.” Audible gasps, all around the room.
Disclaimer: alas, none of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Thanks to hellenebright for the shotgun/rifle info.
Part 1
Part 2 accompanying art by _medley_
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Whistle, Jack/Rose, rated 15/R (in the past of this 'verse) accompanying art
Part 6
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
Part 7
It’s after hearing Jack and Joan speaking to a number of previously unknown women on the telephone on the 1st of July that Michael becomes suspicious.
The two of them are seemingly planning something that the rest of the team haven’t been party to. The seventh call of the day finished, he goes to confront the pair. “What are you two keeping from the rest of us?” he asks, standing in the open doorway of Jack’s office.
Jack goes very pale, and scrubs his hand over his face. Michael almost wishes he hadn’t asked. “Jack?” he gently prompts, walking in and just taking a seat.
***
Jack sighs. Why did he ever think that he could keep his plan from any of his people, smart men that have been with him for years? What he’s gonna tell him? What’s he gonna tell all four of his men?
He’s been trying to ignore it, but he’s known for at least the last year. They’ve never really questioned why he knows so much about alien technology and future machinery, just kind of accepted that he does. But now, it has to be the whole truth; his plan, the war, fifty-first century, his name, the Time Agency, 1941, Rose, the Doctor, all of it. Not yet, though, he needs to use it as a send off to them; a kiss before dying. But he can tell Michael some truth, right now. “Joan and I spent the spring rounding up potential recruits. They’re ringing to confirm that they’ll be coming to see us in a fortnight.”
“And just how many of them are you planning to hire, Jack? Do any of us need to worry about our jobs?”
More than you know, Michael. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that. Not just now, anyway. But I will, Michael, I promise.” He’s clearly not happy, but he looks like he’ll be able to live with what he’s been told. Jack’s very grateful that the phone then rings, for yet another time that day.
“Torchwood, Captain Jack Harkness speaking,” he announces, picking it up, and watching Michael leave his office.
“Captain, this is Eleanor Smythe.”
“Eleanor!” he greets. “Still coming to see us?”
”Of course, sir,” she says brightly. ”What’s the date and itinerary for the day?”
“Saturday July the 18th, and there’ll be information about Torchwood, some tests, that kinda thing.”
”Not more bloody exams!” Eleanor exclaims, but Jack can hear she’s half joking. ”I’ve just sat enough of them to last me a lifetime!”
“We do need to make sure you can actually do this job, Eleanor,” Jack says. “Between you and me, though,” he whispers, conspiratorially, “I’ve always hated tests.”
Eleanor laughs. ”I think we may get on exceptionally well, Captain. I look forward to meeting you and Joan again.”
“As do we, Eleanor.” Jack gives her directions and then says, “See you soon.”
“Goodbye, Captain.”
They hang up on each other. “I like her,” Jack says, smiling.
“So I’d gathered. Is that because she’s reasonably pretty, or because of her fondness for weapons?” Joan asks.
“Both.” He grins, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Your turn, next time,” he tells her. “Only another seven to go, thank goodness.” Jack’s silent for a couple of minutes. Sighing, he says, “I hate this, Joan. I absolutely hate it.” She takes his hand in hers, offering comfort, and they wait for the next call.
***
As his loss looms ever closer on the horizon, with the news on July the 17th that Serbia has called up 70,000 reservists and is preparing for war, Jack puts the final touches to the timetable for Saturday. He gathers up a few of the safer alien objects and some pieces of future technology, ensures the Retcon’s prepared.
He knows exactly what he’s going to say, though, that part needs no planning.
***
The following day, they’re descended upon by fifteen women. Each one reports to the office which serves as their cover and she’s then given access to the Hub by one of Jack’s people.
All twenty-one of them are gathered together in one of the board rooms, with the Metazonican toy, a chamelace, a mobile phone, the Rexel Eight replicator and the differential analyser on the table. The women, apart from Joan, are sat at the table, papers in front of them, courtesy of the photocopier that very helpfully appeared in the Hub back in May.
With one spare cartridge in the cupboard.
They could only hope that an effective replicator would also appear, before the spare was required. He and Ioan had had to do a fair amount of pretty complicated engineering to get it to work on the Hub's power, and it would be a real shame to let that work go to waste.
Jack looks around the room, takes a deep breath and begins. “Ladies, welcome to Torchwood. Thank you for coming. If I and Joan Redfern tricked you when we first met you, I again apologise. Now, could you take a look at the objects on the table and tell us what you think about them. None of them are dangerous, so press all the buttons you want."
There’s animated chatter and discussion; the first woman to press a control on the scapesono almost yelps in surprise. After half an hour, Jack holds up a hand; the women notice and fall silent.
“None of those items are of this time. Like the pendant we used with some of you, most aren’t even of this planet.” Audible gasps, all around the room.
“Yeah, all those stories HG Wells wrote are true, basically. Torchwood has responsibility for alien life and technology that ends up on Earth. We’re sitting right on top of a rift in space and time; all kinds of stuff just washes straight through. I’ll explain more later, but please could you have a look at the founding report, which states what we also have responsibility for?”
He lets them read about the incident on the Torchwood Estate and the banishment of the Doctor and Rose from the Empire. It’s the last few lines that always make Jack conflicted:
... if this Doctor should return, he should beware. Because Torchwood will be waiting.
After fifteen minutes, Dr Penelope White, from King’s College, looks up at him. “Captain Harkness?”
“Yeah, Dr White?”
“The Doctor and Miss Tyler saved Her late Majesty’s life. And then she banished them?”
“He does manage to annoy people very easily, by the sound of it. Wouldn’t you have done the same?” There’s awkward laughter from everyone. ”All right, all right. The next thing I want to know is who can fire a gun, or would like to learn how?” Six of the women raise their hands, including Eleanor Smythe. “You’re all with me, then, ladies. The rest of you, Ioan and Michael will deal with.”
***
They enter the firing range and Jack watches everyone’s eyes light up at the weapons and ammunition on display. He has several girls after his own heart, then. Allowing himself a grin, he then shifts into business mode. “If we hired you, you would need to know how to use these. And yes, not all of these guns were made by human hands. Like the items you saw upstairs, they fell through the Rift, got left behind, or were salvaged from wrecks. Those of you can already shoot, can you tell me what you’re able to use?”
A couple of the women tell him about their ability with pistols. Jack lets them examine at his treasured Webley revolver and then prompts, “Eleanor? What about you?”
“A twelve gauge, double barrel, Purdey shotgun, a fowling gun and a Mauser '98 pattern bolt-action rifle,” she reels off, grinning.
Jack whistles. He’d suspected as much, but still... ”That’s pretty impressive.”
“On the Scottish estate that belongs to one of Daddy’s friends, I’ve shot stags with my Purdey. In 1910, the summer before I went up, Daddy took me, my brother and Mother to Kenya. I shot a couple of lions with my Mauser.”
That’s maybe not so impressive, but Jack keeps his opinion to himself, and forgets that he knows the exact date lions became extinct in the wild. Instead, he takes a weapon from the table and asks, “Let’s see how you do with this fifty-first century blaster, shall we?”
TBC
crosspost:
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
torchwoodgenfic
dwfiction
new_who
galactic_conman
john_joan
Teaspoon