Lost and Found - Chapter One
The sky was strange.
Rhys Williams tried to sit up, but flopped back down onto the ground, his body feeling like it had been twisted and pulled in about fifteen different directions at once. He groaned, not liking this one bit, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He was in too much pain to move, and all he could do was keep staring upward into a sky that really wasn’t his own.
His mind was shaking off the fog, and it poked Rhys with the knowledge that he wasn’t in Cardiff anymore. Where he was, he couldn’t say, but the indigo coloured sky and the three moons were a dead giveaway that he’d somehow ended up nowhere on Earth anymore.
Rhys would go into shock later. Now, he found himself too tired to care.
“Fucking Rift,” he managed to mutter, realising immediately what must have happened.
He let himself dwell on what he could recall. He’d been getting the team lunch; it had been a slow couple of days, what with Jack and Ianto doing a bit more recruiting and Owen and Diane off on vacation. He’d caught up on his paperwork and had done the supply order, had done a quick surf of some of the major auction sites looking for alien tech and had admitted to himself that he’d been bored off his arse. It had seemed like a good idea to volunteer to go out and pick up food for the ravening hoards left in the Hub.
He’d been on his way back from the sandwich shop just off the Plass when…
Yeah. Fucking Rift.
Living in Cardiff was like playing Russian Roulette: no one was safe, but the Rift more often than not dropped off instead of picked up and it was just luck of the draw when those negative spikes appeared and snatched a person away.
Luck of the draw…right.
It bore thinking once more…Fucking Rift.
Another problem with Torchwood: after a while of close calls and alien invasions, a body somehow thought it was just as immortal as their Director and Second, that the Rift wouldn’t touch them. Well, Rhys had just apparently proved that wrong, because one minute he was on Bute Road at noon; the next, he was lying on his back staring up at three moons - one mauve, one red, and the last green, he registered - with no clue as to where the hell he was.
At least he hadn’t ended up like those poor sods on Flat Holm.
Thank God for small favours.
Rhys knew he’d freak out later, and then most likely have a good bloody rant over whatever planet the Rift had deigned to dump him on. But now, he needed a plan. He couldn’t keep just lying there, waiting for something else to happen.
The pain was fading, now more like pins and needles twitching his nerves than from mistreated muscle and bone. Rhys got his elbows under him and pushed himself up, grunting a little as he regained the equilibrium he hadn’t known he’d lost. The world around him tossed and turned, and Rhys felt a little seasick.
He blinked rapidly, and things settled back into focus. Rhys took a look at his surroundings, and he sighed as the whole being on another planet thing was once again confirmed.
Rhys was in a field of some sort, surrounded by what he recognised as some sort of tall grass even though it was a weird, yellowish-green colour, almost the same shade as the puke Gracie had once got all over his favourite football jersey. Luckily for him, Alice had known the secret of getting that sort of thing out of fabric.
But his football jersey was back on Earth. He doubted he’d ever see it again.
This also meant he would never see any of the team again, his friends…his family. He’d have gladly given up any number of jerseys if it meant he could get back home, to hang out with the people who had become so close to him. Hell, he even wouldn’t have minded seeing Gwen again, and that was saying something.
Sighing once more, Rhys slowly got to his feet, turning slowly to scan around him. First thing he needed to do was scout around, and hopefully a plan would come to him, because at that point he really had no freaking clue.
It was pretty warm, for which Rhys was grateful. He’d left the Hub without his jacket, it having been a nice day in Cardiff, and he was only wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt and jeans. He didn’t even have his gun, since he’d kept it in his desk drawer and hadn’t seen the need to carry it with him on what was supposed to have been a simple lunch run.
The field stretched away, making him wonder if the weird grass wasn’t grass at all, but maybe some sort of grain or wheat or crop whatever since it looked like it had been planted in uniform rows. Rhys also noticed that there was a fourth moon: this one was pale white, and settled so close to the horizon that he hadn’t seen it from his original prone position.
Farther off, there was a line that Rhys thought were trees, but he couldn’t see them very well because of the darkness. Even with four moons the trees were too far off to get any details, only that they were tall and bushy at the tops.
He knew he could wait for daylight to make out anything else, but it was the faint glow ahead of him that was far too tantalising to leave until then.
Rhys guessed it had to be some sort of farmhouse or something. It made the most sense, since this was obviously a farm he was standing on, with the grain-grass. Someone would have had to have been growing this crop, and he was willing to bet it was whoever was living where that light was showing.
But he was torn. How would the natives react to him? Were they even vaguely human-ish? Would they be able to accept his story of being a refugee from another planet, God knew how far away? Would they be willing to help him?
Rhys wondered vaguely if there was still a Torchwood out there in the galaxy. He was fairly certain that Jack and Ianto would still be around, but he had no idea how to even get in touch with them…and then it came to him: what if he’d gone into the past, instead of the future? There would be no Jack and Ianto out there then.
He was trapped. Friendless, without any sort of supplies, on a world that Rhys didn’t even know.
The tingling had pretty much left, but there was a pain in his chest that just wouldn’t go away. He really had lost everyone and everything that he was familiar with.
“Damnit,” he muttered. “Get a grip on yourself, Williams. It’s not entirely hopeless.”
There was only one thing he could do, and that was to head toward the possible farmhouse. He would have to take a chance that whoever was there would be willing to at least give him a roof over his head and something to eat. Maybe they could also help him find out if there was someone out in the universe who Rhys would know.
Rhys began walking. It felt…odd, and it took him a few minutes to realise that the gravity on this planet was a bit lighter than what he was used to. The air was a bit thinner as well. There was a slight tang in the air as he breathed deeply, trying to get enough of it into his lungs as he made his way across the field. It was almost like Cardiff after a rain, but just a bit stronger. It wasn’t unpleasant, just something he wasn’t used to. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to get used to it, that he’d find some way off this world. Of course, there was always the chance that he’d be stuck there for the rest of his life.
Not a very pleasant thought.
Still, he wasn’t about to let being scooped up by the Rift and dumped on an alien world get to him. Hell, if he was anywhere near Hart’s time, maybe he could somehow find a working Vortex Manipulator around and get back to his own home planet and time. Of course, if he was in the past that wasn’t an option unless he could find a space-faring race that wouldn’t mind giving him a lift.
And there he was, without his towel. At least he could still joke about it.
There was a slight breeze, and it made the grass rustle much like the rattles of a disturbed rattlesnake. Not that Rhys had actually ever heard one; but he had watched nature documentaries before, so it was a noise he would recognise. It was creepy in a way, that and the lack of insect noises. Rhys frowned at that, because would there be plants like this crop if there weren’t bugs to fertilise things? There’d been that thing about the vanishing bees back on Earth, and hadn’t Owen made some sort of big deal about that at the time?
This was an alien world though. Who knew just how things worked there?
Rhys stopped for a moment, overcome by the notion that this wasn’t an alien planet…he was the alien there, dropped into that field by a capricious Rift. He wouldn’t be like anyone else there.
It was time for his freak-out now.
The trembling started in his arms, and travelled quickly into his chest and down his legs, making his knees feel like jelly. It was all he could do not to collapse back onto the ground as it really did hit him. He was alone. He was the alien there, not the natives. He was really never getting home again…
What would the team do, when they realised that he’d been taken by the Rift? Would they try to look for him? Rhys knew enough about the Rift Manipulator that there was no way they would be able to pinpoint where or when he was. Yes, Toshiko was good…but not that good. She had formulas and programs and shit that allowed her to predict Rift activity, and while she was right ninety-five percent of the time she hadn’t been able to predict the negative spike that had grabbed him off Bute Street in broad daylight. How long would it take for them to figure out he was gone? Possibly for good?
What would they do to mourn him? Because Rhys knew without a doubt that they would. He coughed out a laugh that sounded more than a little hysterical as the image of his funeral danced about in his head. What would Jack and Ianto tell his folks? Would they give them the truth? It wasn’t like his Mam and Tad didn’t have a magical background, even if it had been his Gran who had been the witch in the family.
He had to wonder if this was how his great-grandfather had felt when Torchwood had snatched him up so he could save the world. Had Tommy Brockless felt helpless? Alone? How had he coped with what had occurred? At least he’d had some hope of getting back to his own time eventually.
Rhys couldn’t claim that.
He had no idea how long he stood there, lost in his own misery. Finally, he started forward once more, pulling himself back together by the proverbial boot laces. He had to trust that whoever was in that house before him would somehow help. That they would understand that he was lost and on his own and that he didn’t mean any harm. That mercy was something that everyone shared.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Rhys made his way through the waving grass, his eyes firmly on the prize…the house up ahead, with the lights glowing from what he could now see were windows. He couldn’t tell much else about the house, only that it was a single storey. The rest was still obscured by the night, but he hoped he’d be able to see more as he got closer.
The tiny white moon sank below the horizon, being quickly chased by the blue one. The green one made its own way across the blue-purple sky, the largest, mauve moon hovering almost directly overhead. If Rhys squinted, he could make out stronger lights on that moon’s surface, and he had to wonder if they were some sort of moonbases. That would have been cool, if this planet was advanced enough to have set up colonies on at least one of their moons. According to the news reports he’d read Rhys knew that such a thing was going on on Earth’s own moon, that there had been a race to get things set up even before SHIELD had been pulled down by HYDRA. Rhys knew for a fact that SHIELD had been on the cutting edge of that push, but it had been taken over by NASA and the British Rocket Group out of fear that HYDRA would set up base over their heads and wave weapons at the collective countries on the planet. It wasn’t a risk that anyone was willing to take.
He also knew that Jack had been approached about it by Her Majesty, and it had led to an agreement that there would eventually be a Torchwood base built there. Rhys had wondered if it was going to happen within his lifetime.
Well, he supposed he’d be able to find out now, wouldn’t he? If he was in the bloody future, of course. If he was stuck in the past, he was pretty well screwed.
Oh hell, he was screwed either way.
Rhys had no idea how long it took him to reach the farmhouse; he’d tried to check his watch, but the crystal had been broken at some point in his journey to this planet. He kept walking until he broke through the edge of the crop line then he stopped, his eyes searching for any sort of clue that would tell him if these people were hostile or peaceful.
Being in Torchwood meant he’d met both kinds. Rhys did quite like Thor a lot that one time he’d met the Asgardian, but he knew he couldn’t count on the natives being that friendly and jovial at his ‘visit’. He had no idea what his reception might be, but he had to take that chance. He couldn’t stand around outside and wait for the sun to come up.
Or maybe it was plural. After all, there were four moons. Rhys certainly wouldn’t put it past this planet to have more than one star.
Only he didn’t get the chance to knock on the door.
Light suddenly flooded the area, blinding Rhys after having spent so much time in what passed for the night time darkness on this planet. He barely had time to blink away the spots in front of his eyes before a person was barrelling out of the house, what looked like a gun in its hands.
Rhys barely got a glimpse of something tall and thin, before the gun was being snapped in his direction. He just managed to get his hands up in what Jack had once claimed was the universal sign of surrender when the gun flashed.
Shit, was the last thought Rhys had.
Chapter Two