Torchwood/Dr Who - fic - The Torchwood Girls, Part 6, Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs, PG
Title - The Torchwood Girls, Part 6 (final version)
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs
Rating - PG
Length - approx 1190 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: to 3.11-13
Summary - Before all these girls come to the Hub, back in Cardiff, he has to explain Retcon to Joan.
Disclaimer - alas, not all of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Final versions:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
Part 6
Jack and Joan repeat their act at the rest of the Oxford and Cambridge women’s colleges, finding several more potential recruits, mainly science students. From the London institutions, Imperial gives them a couple of engineering students, and King’s provides a few disillusioned doctors, looking for a change. The London School of Economics trip produces some mathematics students. The final count is fifteen women, from which Jack plans to hire four.
But before all these girls come to the Hub, back in Cardiff, he has to explain Retcon to Joan. “It’s a drug, part of the amnesia pill we occasionally have to give people, if they’ve seen too much or know too much.” He takes a breath before admitting, ”I created Retcon, Joan.”
She’s silent for several minutes, before saying, “You gave this drug to my boys, didn’t you? I remember you saying something to Michael.”
“Michael did give a small dose to some of the really traumatised kids, yeah.”
“Are there any side effects of this drug, Jack?”
He genuinely doesn’t know, but he can’t tell Joan that, she’s already angry enough at him. So he instead makes light of the situation by saying, “They'll forget me, and that‘s kinda tragic.”
She doesn’t buy his humour, though, staying rather hard-faced. Jack smiles weakly. Still, at least he’s confessed.
***
In May, a twelve inch wide seven-pointed star-shaped artefact washes through the Rift. As they stand in one of the laboratories, from the way he’s examining it, Joan can see that Jack knows exactly where it’s come from.
“The markings, Jack,” she prompts, taking a closer look herself. “They resemble Braille, but with dashes instead of dots.”
“Yeah. The dashes means it’s from Metazonica. That’s their writing system. I want you to work on it. Press its buttons, hold it in your hands, run your fingers over it. Learn its shape and tell me what it does, Joan.”
“Do you mean you don’t know, Jack?” She can’t believe that.
“I might,” he says, almost teasingly. ”But I want you to tell me, though.”
With that, he leaves the lab.
From the table, Joan picks up the device Ioan informed her was a tape recorder and begins to speak into it, like he’d shown her: “Joan Redfern, Torchwood Cardiff, the 27th of May, 1914. Artefact is from Metazonica. Purpose is unknown and to be investigated...”
Looking at the markings, she can see patterns; several figures recur a few times. Running her right hand over one of the points, Joan accidentally presses a circular button. She gets what resembles a loud peal of bells. “Oh!” she exclaims, the sound being a surprise. Trying a square button, Joan hears what sounds like glass shattering. A third button has a sound resembling a blackbird’s song. Thinking about this, she decides she’s happy that this little star is not likely to become sentient and kill them all.
“The... Metazonican? Is that right? The Metazonican artefact appears to be a musical instrument. There are sounds from the buttons and recurring elements in the markings.” Switching the tape recorder off, Joan picks up the star and makes her way to Jack’s office.
***
“Jack?”
He looks up from the report he’s reading to find Joan stood in his doorway, the Metazonican toy in her hand. Smiling, he says, “Come on in, take a seat, Joan. Did you discover our new arrival’s purpose?”
“I believe I did. It appears to be a musical instrument, Jack.” She places the artefact on his desk and carefully pushes it towards him. “Press one of the round buttons,” she instructs him.
“I get what sounds like bells, don’t I?”
At that, Joan clearly can’t make up her mind whether or not to be annoyed at him. “Yes, you do,” she eventually says. “Does this artefact have a name, then?”
“When I last saw one, years ago, the trader called it a scapesono. It’s a toy for the Metazonican equivalent of an young child. C’mon, let’s take it into the Hub for the guys to see.”
Jack’s men are fascinated by the scapesono; pressing buttons at random and smiling at the sounds. He’s gratified to see everyone so happy, as it has been a while since any pleasant technology came to them.
When the possibilities have been exhausted, he takes back the device, returning it to Joan. “Do you think you could write me a report on this?” he asks her.
“I would be glad to, Jack,” Joan says, after a couple of minutes of apparently shocked silence.
He likes catching his people unawares, asking them to do something they were not expecting. It shows his faith in them, that he knows they can (usually) cope with some random thing he might just throw at them, out of the blue.
And it keeps them on their toes, of course.
***
As for June, there is the odd alien or two to deal with, but Jack mainly spends the month just waiting for the bomb to explode.
On June 28th, the news wires report that Serb nationalist Gavrilo Princip has assassinated Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Duchess Sophie. That night, swearing profusely, he consumes several glasses of whisky, and falls asleep at his desk. He’s awoken by Joan the following morning, worry and concern all over her face.
“Jack?”
“I’ll be all right,” he lies.
“Yes, I can see.” She rolls her eyes at him. “Just how much did you drink?”
“Joan...” he sighs.
“I know, Jack,” she replies, sighing herself. “It’s started; the Archduke is dead, the shadow is descending.” Her expression swiftly changes, a fake smile appearing on her lips, and Joan takes his hand and pulls him out of his chair. “Come along. Sofa, and some tea.”
They haven’t even taken five steps, and he’s drawing her into a hug, needing the comfort. He kisses her forehead as well. Jack’s kind of comfort usually goes a hell of a lot further than that, but this is 1914, and Joan Redfern is a lady, so he tries to be good, continuing on to the sofa, letting her make him tea.
When she comes back, Jack can see that Joan is as frightened as he is. She sits down beside him, and once the tea has been drunk, he pulls her into another hug, which turns into a kiss, mostly chaste.
But the kiss soon becomes passionate.
Before it can evolve into something else, something more, something that would involve going to his quarters, Joan pulls away, breathing heavily, her face and lips reddened. “I believe we have work to do, Captain,” she says, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair.
She’s taken to wearing it down since she started here. It makes her look softer, but Jack knows that isn’t the case; she’s still the no-nonsense, battle-scarred woman he met eight months ago. He follows her example of the fake formality with several quick nods of his head, and, “Yes, ma’am. Could you finish that report on the Metazonicaian musical instrument?” His heart is still hammering away.
At that point, Jack’s men arrive, hurling playful insults at each other, as usual, and the day begins.
Continue to final version of Part 7
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs
Rating - PG
Length - approx 1190 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: to 3.11-13
Summary - Before all these girls come to the Hub, back in Cardiff, he has to explain Retcon to Joan.
Disclaimer - alas, not all of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Final versions:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
Part 6
Jack and Joan repeat their act at the rest of the Oxford and Cambridge women’s colleges, finding several more potential recruits, mainly science students. From the London institutions, Imperial gives them a couple of engineering students, and King’s provides a few disillusioned doctors, looking for a change. The London School of Economics trip produces some mathematics students. The final count is fifteen women, from which Jack plans to hire four.
But before all these girls come to the Hub, back in Cardiff, he has to explain Retcon to Joan. “It’s a drug, part of the amnesia pill we occasionally have to give people, if they’ve seen too much or know too much.” He takes a breath before admitting, ”I created Retcon, Joan.”
She’s silent for several minutes, before saying, “You gave this drug to my boys, didn’t you? I remember you saying something to Michael.”
“Michael did give a small dose to some of the really traumatised kids, yeah.”
“Are there any side effects of this drug, Jack?”
He genuinely doesn’t know, but he can’t tell Joan that, she’s already angry enough at him. So he instead makes light of the situation by saying, “They'll forget me, and that‘s kinda tragic.”
She doesn’t buy his humour, though, staying rather hard-faced. Jack smiles weakly. Still, at least he’s confessed.
***
In May, a twelve inch wide seven-pointed star-shaped artefact washes through the Rift. As they stand in one of the laboratories, from the way he’s examining it, Joan can see that Jack knows exactly where it’s come from.
“The markings, Jack,” she prompts, taking a closer look herself. “They resemble Braille, but with dashes instead of dots.”
“Yeah. The dashes means it’s from Metazonica. That’s their writing system. I want you to work on it. Press its buttons, hold it in your hands, run your fingers over it. Learn its shape and tell me what it does, Joan.”
“Do you mean you don’t know, Jack?” She can’t believe that.
“I might,” he says, almost teasingly. ”But I want you to tell me, though.”
With that, he leaves the lab.
From the table, Joan picks up the device Ioan informed her was a tape recorder and begins to speak into it, like he’d shown her: “Joan Redfern, Torchwood Cardiff, the 27th of May, 1914. Artefact is from Metazonica. Purpose is unknown and to be investigated...”
Looking at the markings, she can see patterns; several figures recur a few times. Running her right hand over one of the points, Joan accidentally presses a circular button. She gets what resembles a loud peal of bells. “Oh!” she exclaims, the sound being a surprise. Trying a square button, Joan hears what sounds like glass shattering. A third button has a sound resembling a blackbird’s song. Thinking about this, she decides she’s happy that this little star is not likely to become sentient and kill them all.
“The... Metazonican? Is that right? The Metazonican artefact appears to be a musical instrument. There are sounds from the buttons and recurring elements in the markings.” Switching the tape recorder off, Joan picks up the star and makes her way to Jack’s office.
***
“Jack?”
He looks up from the report he’s reading to find Joan stood in his doorway, the Metazonican toy in her hand. Smiling, he says, “Come on in, take a seat, Joan. Did you discover our new arrival’s purpose?”
“I believe I did. It appears to be a musical instrument, Jack.” She places the artefact on his desk and carefully pushes it towards him. “Press one of the round buttons,” she instructs him.
“I get what sounds like bells, don’t I?”
At that, Joan clearly can’t make up her mind whether or not to be annoyed at him. “Yes, you do,” she eventually says. “Does this artefact have a name, then?”
“When I last saw one, years ago, the trader called it a scapesono. It’s a toy for the Metazonican equivalent of an young child. C’mon, let’s take it into the Hub for the guys to see.”
Jack’s men are fascinated by the scapesono; pressing buttons at random and smiling at the sounds. He’s gratified to see everyone so happy, as it has been a while since any pleasant technology came to them.
When the possibilities have been exhausted, he takes back the device, returning it to Joan. “Do you think you could write me a report on this?” he asks her.
“I would be glad to, Jack,” Joan says, after a couple of minutes of apparently shocked silence.
He likes catching his people unawares, asking them to do something they were not expecting. It shows his faith in them, that he knows they can (usually) cope with some random thing he might just throw at them, out of the blue.
And it keeps them on their toes, of course.
***
As for June, there is the odd alien or two to deal with, but Jack mainly spends the month just waiting for the bomb to explode.
On June 28th, the news wires report that Serb nationalist Gavrilo Princip has assassinated Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Duchess Sophie. That night, swearing profusely, he consumes several glasses of whisky, and falls asleep at his desk. He’s awoken by Joan the following morning, worry and concern all over her face.
“Jack?”
“I’ll be all right,” he lies.
“Yes, I can see.” She rolls her eyes at him. “Just how much did you drink?”
“Joan...” he sighs.
“I know, Jack,” she replies, sighing herself. “It’s started; the Archduke is dead, the shadow is descending.” Her expression swiftly changes, a fake smile appearing on her lips, and Joan takes his hand and pulls him out of his chair. “Come along. Sofa, and some tea.”
They haven’t even taken five steps, and he’s drawing her into a hug, needing the comfort. He kisses her forehead as well. Jack’s kind of comfort usually goes a hell of a lot further than that, but this is 1914, and Joan Redfern is a lady, so he tries to be good, continuing on to the sofa, letting her make him tea.
When she comes back, Jack can see that Joan is as frightened as he is. She sits down beside him, and once the tea has been drunk, he pulls her into another hug, which turns into a kiss, mostly chaste.
But the kiss soon becomes passionate.
Before it can evolve into something else, something more, something that would involve going to his quarters, Joan pulls away, breathing heavily, her face and lips reddened. “I believe we have work to do, Captain,” she says, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair.
She’s taken to wearing it down since she started here. It makes her look softer, but Jack knows that isn’t the case; she’s still the no-nonsense, battle-scarred woman he met eight months ago. He follows her example of the fake formality with several quick nods of his head, and, “Yes, ma’am. Could you finish that report on the Metazonicaian musical instrument?” His heart is still hammering away.
At that point, Jack’s men arrive, hurling playful insults at each other, as usual, and the day begins.
Continue to final version of Part 7