Just a Human with Two Hearts(4/?)
Title: Just a Human With Two Hearts (4/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: Still R for violence language and generally being Torchwood
Summary: She wasn't supposed to be there, but somehow she survived. Can she move on from a war that took everything from her?
Notes: Still written for Time Crash :) Still don't anyone but the dear Lacey, though here she's still Mystic.
The Mystic sat up with a gasp. She looked around confused by her surroundings. This wasn’t the Citadel. She looked around confused. Had she died, is this what it’s like in the Matrix? Then flashes of memory: falling through a white light, wet, cold, a man familiar, but not, regenerating, the man again, not Max…Harper, the Captain, pain, neural implosion fever, finally darkness, her last she hoped. Looking around, she realized that she must have recovered from her regeneration, and sighed. This was not how it was supposed to be. She should have been on Gallifrey, with her people, dying with them. It wasn’t fair, why should she live and not the others. Not her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren? Why did she have to live the image of her children and grandchildren with weapons in hand?
“About time you woke up. Was starting to think you’d just sleep forever, and take up space in my medical bay.”
She started from her thoughts, looking over at the medic. He was leaning against the rails of the stairs, arms crossed. “So sorry to inconvenience you…Harper, wasn’t it?” She said, rolling her eyes slightly. “Next time, you should just let me die, save you the bed space.” She swung her feet down and hopped off the bed, steadying herself as she wobbled slightly. She looked down. “Ugh,” she made face.
“There are clothes over there for you,” he said, nodding over to a pile of clothes. “Unless you want to walk around in that gown all day. Though I would point out the floors around here are pretty damn cold on bare feet.” She looked over at the clothes, and pulled off the gown, not caring that he was in the room. Someone had to change her into the gown in the first place, besides, living in the trenches for so long, she lost all sense of privacy, hers or anyone else’s. He watched her for a moment before turning back to what he had been working on when she’d first woken up. “By the way, next time someone asks you to check their readings because they don’t know your norms, don’t hand them a disc with gibberish on it.” He glanced over as she pulled the top over her head. “Someone might think you wanted to die.”
“Someone would be right,” she pulled her hair out of the bun she’d had her hair in. She made another face as she felt how grimy and crusty it felt. She felt like that all over. “And that happens to be my native language. I don’t insult your grunts and gestures, do I?”
“Well, maybe that has something to do with the fact that you shouldn’t really talk bad about part of your heritage,” he said, giving her a little look. “You know, being half human yourself.”
She turned slowly, a dark look in her eyes. “I may be a mongrel, but I am still far superior to your race.” He met her gaze, having the satisfaction of her looking away first, moving to put the shoes on her feet.
He was putting something away, before he looked over at her again, “you said something about a time war.”
“So what if I did? And technically, I didn’t. That Captain of yours said it, not me.” She said, eyeing him. “How tall are you, Harper?”
“One and three quarter meters, why? And don’t change the subject.”
“Blast, short again. I was enjoying being tall for once,” she sighed. “And what subject change. You asked if I mentioned the Time War. I told you I hadn’t. Your Captain did. End of story.” She picked up one of his empty medical trays, using it to stare at her reflection. “Hmmm, not bad, I guess. I was getting kind of fond of the curls though. Face is too soft. It’s a joke.”
Owen shook his head, watching her go on about her face, ignoring him completely. “Yeah, you’re a regular midget you are,” he said with a chuckle. “All right, get up on the exam table. I’m going to make sure you’re not about to pass out again.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Look, I got all day, and you are not going anywhere until I make sure you’re not going to keel over on us again.”
“Oh yeah, well, how do you know I won’t lie when you ask me if it’s normal for me?”
He scoffed. “I won’t have to ask you,” he held up the disc that had been in her fatigues. “We had this translated within ten hours, thanks to our resident technical genius.” She sighed, and stormed over to the exam table, much like a petulant child. He did a quick scan, and nodded. “Well, looks like everything’s normal again. First time in-“
“Five days, sixteen hours, forty two minutes and twelve seconds,” she answered, with a shrug. “New record for me.”
Owen blinked, “What are you some kind of walking clock?”
“Uhm, hi, Time Lady. It’s in the name, dumb ass. Can I go now?”
Owen just shook his and nodded up the stairs. “Jack wants to see you in his office. Can’t miss it, it’s the one with the windows so he can lord over his domain. By the way,” he asked as she headed up the stairs, “what did you mean new record? Longest time unconscious after regeneration?”
“No,” she said, not pausing as she left, “shortest.”
He watched her go, still not sure what to make of her. He looked up when he heard Gwen chuckle. “You two are fast on your way to being best friends,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Oh yeah,” he smirked, “we’re going to be just like that,” he crossed his fingers to demonstrate.
“Always do make a good first impression, Owen.” She said, heading back to her work.
Owen just shook his head, turning back to finish what he’d been doing when the interloper decided to wake up.
The Mystic walked into the captain’s office without so much as knock. He raised an eyebrow, but motioned her to sit, noticing her feet went straight up on his desk as if she owned the place. “I take it this means you’ve made a complete recovery?”
“According to your git of a medic, yes,” she confirmed, lacing her fingers together behind her head, grimacing at the feel of her hair again, “blerh, I need a shower.”
He chuckled, “Yes, he can be a git and there are some showers downstairs. You can head down and take one after we discuss what we’re going to do with you.” He looked at her seriously. “There’s no way to send you back. Not sure you’d want to-“
“I would,” she said softly, “I so would. I would rather die on my feet with the rest of my people than be forced to live each day for the rest of my life. And as you seem to be familiar with Time Lords, you know that’s a long time. Although,” she looked at him again, “not as long as you’ve got, I’m sure.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re a fixed point in Time. It moves around you, swerves to avoid you. That’s not supposed to happen in humans. How long you’ve been like this, captain?”
“Long enough,” he said, “and call me Jack. Now, back to the point. There’s no way to send you back. So you have two options. One, we can find you a nice little out of the way place. Stay out of trouble, and we’ll help with whatever you need. Medical help you can come here as I’m sure you’d be leery of hospitals here,” she scoffed and gave him a look, “and help you change identities and such when too much time has passed you and you look the same. By the way, just how old are you?”
“Seven hundred and forty eight or so. Give or take twenty years,” she said with a shrug, “I gave up counting after the third or so century. What about you?”
“Oh, you got a few centuries on me,” he said with a little smirk. “Option Two involves you working for me.”
“What, here? At Torchwood? I thought you were founded to find and capture the menace known as the Doctor,” she smirked at him, “I was an archivist on my home world. I know all about Torchwood.”
“You and Ianto should compare notes. But yes, originally that was Torchwood’s charter. If it’s alien, it’s ours mentality, though brought down Torchwood One when Cybermen from an alternate universe and Daleks that hid from the war in a void ship were released to wreak havoc on the world.”
She looked up sharply, before shaking her head, “so that’s where they disappeared to. Anyways, so what’s the new charter of Torchwood, what number is this?”
“This is Torchwood Three. We’re here mainly to monitor the Rift in time and space that runs through the heart of Cardiff. We’re sitting right on it. Probably explains why you got spit out into out laps, quite literally with a bang. Do you always make such an entrance?”
“I try.” She paused. “So basically you pick up the driftwood from the rift and Rift refugees like me. And why would you need me?”
“We have a police liaison, why not one to deal with the aliens we have that occasional fall through the rift? Plus there’s a lot alien technology that falls through, not everything we’ve found we can identify. You’ve said yourself you were an archivist on your home world and you’ve probably forgotten more about some of this stuff than we’ll ever know.”
“Oh, laying it on a bit thick there, Captain,” she said with a smirk, “stroking up the girl’s ego just to get her to work for you.” She sighed, “Yeah, ok, why not? I’ve never been the stay out of the way and not cause trouble type of girl. Now, can I have that shower? My hair is full of blood and god knows what, and the rest of me feels just as slimy.”
Jack nodded. “See the basketball hoop,” he said, pointing, “There’s a door right next to it, leads to the showers. After that I’ll introduce you to the team.” He watched her as she left his office. She was girl with Time in her eyes. It was odd after so long to see eyes like that. Odder still that they weren’t attached to the man he’d been waiting for over a hundred years. She knew what he was. He would have to make sure to have her keep quiet about that. Gwen was the only one who knew. He raised an eyebrow as the woman stopped just above the med bay and shot a rubber band down into it, presumably at Owen. Seven hundred and forty eight or so, she said. Yet somehow she felt like someone caught between being a child and an adult. Well, at least she’d fit right in.
It was nearly an hour later when she walked out of the showers, clean and hair pulled back into a loosed ponytail at the nape of her neck. Jack was waiting there for her, a smirk on his face. “Better?”
“Finally feel like a real person and not muck covered zombie, yes. So, Captain, introduce me to the others insane enough to work this kind of job,” she said, sticking her hands in her pockets.
“You are never going to call me Jack, are you?” She shook her head and he rolled his eyes. “All right, come on.” He led her out to the rest of the team. “You’re already acquainted with Owen.” He said with a nod to the man.
“Yes, unfortunately, how’s the hand, by the way?” She said in a snotty voice.
“Need to work on your technique, I’ve given myself worse when I was in med school,” he quipped, matching her tone.
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh yeah, these two were either going to be best friends by the end of the month or threatening to kill or retcon each other. “Moving on, our police liaison, Gwen Cooper,” he said, moving her over to the dark haired woman. “She is probably the last one with any shreds of sanity.”
“And those are fading by the day,” Gwen laughed, offering a hand to the red head.
She took it with a smile, “yeah, I can’t imagine keeping much with the things you see and let me guess, the rest of the world is still blissfully unaware?” Gwen nodded. “Figured, still too early this century for the rest of the world to catch on. Oh yes, I’m the Mystic, by the way.” Owen rolled her eyes and muttered something about stupid pompous names as Jack introduced her to Toshiko. “I’m told you translated that disc in ten hours. I have to say, that’s pretty impressive. Gallifreyian isn’t an easy language to translate.”
Tosh shrugged. “It was simply a matter of searching the database for a similar language making the comparisons and then figuring out what did and didn’t make sense. There were at least three different languages that I would guess your language is the root language for.”
“Seventeen actually, but five of them are as dead as Gallifreyian is now, eight are so rare you’d be lucky to ever have a need for it, and the others are so common they themselves have become root languages,” she smirked, “still, pretty damn good.” Tosh smiled back.
“All right, stop flirting with Tosh and meet the last of the team, Ianto Jones. Archivist and clean up man.” He brought her up to the young man in his impeccable dress. “The Mystic used be an archivist, she might be able to help us with all the unknowns we have in the vaults.”
Ianto nodded. “I’ll take you down there after you’ve gotten settled. I’m sure Jack hasn’t even started the proper paperwork, or figured out where you’ll be staying?” He looked over at the older man, shaking his head at Jack’s sheepish look. “I’ll have the paperwork pulled up. Though you might consider an alias for such mundane things as licensee, birth certificate, things that we can feed into the system so they think you’ve been here the whole time. After all, Mystic might raise the wrong kind of attention.” At her narrowing of her eyes, “I’m not saying give it up. Simply something for the paperwork.”
She sighed. “Lacey was something I went by as kid. So Lacey Johnson, I guess. Has a nice ring and all. How about twenty six for the age, since I’m pretty sure no one would buy seven hundred plus.”
Ianto nodded and walked off to find the right forms for the girl to fill out as Owen shook his head, “why couldn’t you just given us Lacey in the first place?”
“Cause it’s a stupid arse name that I got because I refused to wear anything but frilly lacey dresses,” she retorted, shooting another rubber band at his head.
“Stop shooting me with those damn bands, woman!”
“Stop acting like a dumb arse, and I’ll stop shooting you with them,” she grabbed another one off the desk, aiming it at Owen’s head before Jack took it away.
“Ok, kids, let’s stop this now, shall we. One last thing we need to figure out where you’re staying.”
“I assumed here, at least until I could find a place of my own. Nice and peaceful and…you have a pteradon?!” she exclaimed as it let out a shriek from its nest above them.
“That’s Myfanwy, kind of a hub a pet. She fell through the Rift. It was safer keeping her here than letting her run wild,” Ianto said coming back with paperwork.
“Ok, I am not staying here. She’s cool and all, but no way.” She shook her head. She had slept in trenches, with creatures similar to this one flying above. Once their song would put her to sleep like a lullaby, now the similar sounds this one made just hurt her heart. To have to live in the same building, even temporarily while they found her a flat was enough to make her shudder slightly.
“You could stay with me,” Tosh spoke up, “I’ve got the space, and it would be nice to have someone around the place a bit.”
The Mystic turned back to Tosh, tearing her eyes away from the flying creature. “You don’t mind?”
“Be nice to have a flat mate. Never taken one before because, well,” she gestured around them, “Not easy to explain these hours when you can’t talk about this.”
“Hmm, sure, why not?” Mystic smirked. “Now, I think that’s my cue to start working on that paperwork.” She sat down at one of the workstations, taking the paperwork, and set about starting her life in Torchwood. The others went back to their work, only one person noticing the look of pained nostalgia on the Time Lady’s face as Myfanwy let out another shriek.
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: Still R for violence language and generally being Torchwood
Summary: She wasn't supposed to be there, but somehow she survived. Can she move on from a war that took everything from her?
Notes: Still written for Time Crash :) Still don't anyone but the dear Lacey, though here she's still Mystic.
The Mystic sat up with a gasp. She looked around confused by her surroundings. This wasn’t the Citadel. She looked around confused. Had she died, is this what it’s like in the Matrix? Then flashes of memory: falling through a white light, wet, cold, a man familiar, but not, regenerating, the man again, not Max…Harper, the Captain, pain, neural implosion fever, finally darkness, her last she hoped. Looking around, she realized that she must have recovered from her regeneration, and sighed. This was not how it was supposed to be. She should have been on Gallifrey, with her people, dying with them. It wasn’t fair, why should she live and not the others. Not her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren? Why did she have to live the image of her children and grandchildren with weapons in hand?
“About time you woke up. Was starting to think you’d just sleep forever, and take up space in my medical bay.”
She started from her thoughts, looking over at the medic. He was leaning against the rails of the stairs, arms crossed. “So sorry to inconvenience you…Harper, wasn’t it?” She said, rolling her eyes slightly. “Next time, you should just let me die, save you the bed space.” She swung her feet down and hopped off the bed, steadying herself as she wobbled slightly. She looked down. “Ugh,” she made face.
“There are clothes over there for you,” he said, nodding over to a pile of clothes. “Unless you want to walk around in that gown all day. Though I would point out the floors around here are pretty damn cold on bare feet.” She looked over at the clothes, and pulled off the gown, not caring that he was in the room. Someone had to change her into the gown in the first place, besides, living in the trenches for so long, she lost all sense of privacy, hers or anyone else’s. He watched her for a moment before turning back to what he had been working on when she’d first woken up. “By the way, next time someone asks you to check their readings because they don’t know your norms, don’t hand them a disc with gibberish on it.” He glanced over as she pulled the top over her head. “Someone might think you wanted to die.”
“Someone would be right,” she pulled her hair out of the bun she’d had her hair in. She made another face as she felt how grimy and crusty it felt. She felt like that all over. “And that happens to be my native language. I don’t insult your grunts and gestures, do I?”
“Well, maybe that has something to do with the fact that you shouldn’t really talk bad about part of your heritage,” he said, giving her a little look. “You know, being half human yourself.”
She turned slowly, a dark look in her eyes. “I may be a mongrel, but I am still far superior to your race.” He met her gaze, having the satisfaction of her looking away first, moving to put the shoes on her feet.
He was putting something away, before he looked over at her again, “you said something about a time war.”
“So what if I did? And technically, I didn’t. That Captain of yours said it, not me.” She said, eyeing him. “How tall are you, Harper?”
“One and three quarter meters, why? And don’t change the subject.”
“Blast, short again. I was enjoying being tall for once,” she sighed. “And what subject change. You asked if I mentioned the Time War. I told you I hadn’t. Your Captain did. End of story.” She picked up one of his empty medical trays, using it to stare at her reflection. “Hmmm, not bad, I guess. I was getting kind of fond of the curls though. Face is too soft. It’s a joke.”
Owen shook his head, watching her go on about her face, ignoring him completely. “Yeah, you’re a regular midget you are,” he said with a chuckle. “All right, get up on the exam table. I’m going to make sure you’re not about to pass out again.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Look, I got all day, and you are not going anywhere until I make sure you’re not going to keel over on us again.”
“Oh yeah, well, how do you know I won’t lie when you ask me if it’s normal for me?”
He scoffed. “I won’t have to ask you,” he held up the disc that had been in her fatigues. “We had this translated within ten hours, thanks to our resident technical genius.” She sighed, and stormed over to the exam table, much like a petulant child. He did a quick scan, and nodded. “Well, looks like everything’s normal again. First time in-“
“Five days, sixteen hours, forty two minutes and twelve seconds,” she answered, with a shrug. “New record for me.”
Owen blinked, “What are you some kind of walking clock?”
“Uhm, hi, Time Lady. It’s in the name, dumb ass. Can I go now?”
Owen just shook his and nodded up the stairs. “Jack wants to see you in his office. Can’t miss it, it’s the one with the windows so he can lord over his domain. By the way,” he asked as she headed up the stairs, “what did you mean new record? Longest time unconscious after regeneration?”
“No,” she said, not pausing as she left, “shortest.”
He watched her go, still not sure what to make of her. He looked up when he heard Gwen chuckle. “You two are fast on your way to being best friends,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Oh yeah,” he smirked, “we’re going to be just like that,” he crossed his fingers to demonstrate.
“Always do make a good first impression, Owen.” She said, heading back to her work.
Owen just shook his head, turning back to finish what he’d been doing when the interloper decided to wake up.
The Mystic walked into the captain’s office without so much as knock. He raised an eyebrow, but motioned her to sit, noticing her feet went straight up on his desk as if she owned the place. “I take it this means you’ve made a complete recovery?”
“According to your git of a medic, yes,” she confirmed, lacing her fingers together behind her head, grimacing at the feel of her hair again, “blerh, I need a shower.”
He chuckled, “Yes, he can be a git and there are some showers downstairs. You can head down and take one after we discuss what we’re going to do with you.” He looked at her seriously. “There’s no way to send you back. Not sure you’d want to-“
“I would,” she said softly, “I so would. I would rather die on my feet with the rest of my people than be forced to live each day for the rest of my life. And as you seem to be familiar with Time Lords, you know that’s a long time. Although,” she looked at him again, “not as long as you’ve got, I’m sure.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re a fixed point in Time. It moves around you, swerves to avoid you. That’s not supposed to happen in humans. How long you’ve been like this, captain?”
“Long enough,” he said, “and call me Jack. Now, back to the point. There’s no way to send you back. So you have two options. One, we can find you a nice little out of the way place. Stay out of trouble, and we’ll help with whatever you need. Medical help you can come here as I’m sure you’d be leery of hospitals here,” she scoffed and gave him a look, “and help you change identities and such when too much time has passed you and you look the same. By the way, just how old are you?”
“Seven hundred and forty eight or so. Give or take twenty years,” she said with a shrug, “I gave up counting after the third or so century. What about you?”
“Oh, you got a few centuries on me,” he said with a little smirk. “Option Two involves you working for me.”
“What, here? At Torchwood? I thought you were founded to find and capture the menace known as the Doctor,” she smirked at him, “I was an archivist on my home world. I know all about Torchwood.”
“You and Ianto should compare notes. But yes, originally that was Torchwood’s charter. If it’s alien, it’s ours mentality, though brought down Torchwood One when Cybermen from an alternate universe and Daleks that hid from the war in a void ship were released to wreak havoc on the world.”
She looked up sharply, before shaking her head, “so that’s where they disappeared to. Anyways, so what’s the new charter of Torchwood, what number is this?”
“This is Torchwood Three. We’re here mainly to monitor the Rift in time and space that runs through the heart of Cardiff. We’re sitting right on it. Probably explains why you got spit out into out laps, quite literally with a bang. Do you always make such an entrance?”
“I try.” She paused. “So basically you pick up the driftwood from the rift and Rift refugees like me. And why would you need me?”
“We have a police liaison, why not one to deal with the aliens we have that occasional fall through the rift? Plus there’s a lot alien technology that falls through, not everything we’ve found we can identify. You’ve said yourself you were an archivist on your home world and you’ve probably forgotten more about some of this stuff than we’ll ever know.”
“Oh, laying it on a bit thick there, Captain,” she said with a smirk, “stroking up the girl’s ego just to get her to work for you.” She sighed, “Yeah, ok, why not? I’ve never been the stay out of the way and not cause trouble type of girl. Now, can I have that shower? My hair is full of blood and god knows what, and the rest of me feels just as slimy.”
Jack nodded. “See the basketball hoop,” he said, pointing, “There’s a door right next to it, leads to the showers. After that I’ll introduce you to the team.” He watched her as she left his office. She was girl with Time in her eyes. It was odd after so long to see eyes like that. Odder still that they weren’t attached to the man he’d been waiting for over a hundred years. She knew what he was. He would have to make sure to have her keep quiet about that. Gwen was the only one who knew. He raised an eyebrow as the woman stopped just above the med bay and shot a rubber band down into it, presumably at Owen. Seven hundred and forty eight or so, she said. Yet somehow she felt like someone caught between being a child and an adult. Well, at least she’d fit right in.
It was nearly an hour later when she walked out of the showers, clean and hair pulled back into a loosed ponytail at the nape of her neck. Jack was waiting there for her, a smirk on his face. “Better?”
“Finally feel like a real person and not muck covered zombie, yes. So, Captain, introduce me to the others insane enough to work this kind of job,” she said, sticking her hands in her pockets.
“You are never going to call me Jack, are you?” She shook her head and he rolled his eyes. “All right, come on.” He led her out to the rest of the team. “You’re already acquainted with Owen.” He said with a nod to the man.
“Yes, unfortunately, how’s the hand, by the way?” She said in a snotty voice.
“Need to work on your technique, I’ve given myself worse when I was in med school,” he quipped, matching her tone.
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh yeah, these two were either going to be best friends by the end of the month or threatening to kill or retcon each other. “Moving on, our police liaison, Gwen Cooper,” he said, moving her over to the dark haired woman. “She is probably the last one with any shreds of sanity.”
“And those are fading by the day,” Gwen laughed, offering a hand to the red head.
She took it with a smile, “yeah, I can’t imagine keeping much with the things you see and let me guess, the rest of the world is still blissfully unaware?” Gwen nodded. “Figured, still too early this century for the rest of the world to catch on. Oh yes, I’m the Mystic, by the way.” Owen rolled her eyes and muttered something about stupid pompous names as Jack introduced her to Toshiko. “I’m told you translated that disc in ten hours. I have to say, that’s pretty impressive. Gallifreyian isn’t an easy language to translate.”
Tosh shrugged. “It was simply a matter of searching the database for a similar language making the comparisons and then figuring out what did and didn’t make sense. There were at least three different languages that I would guess your language is the root language for.”
“Seventeen actually, but five of them are as dead as Gallifreyian is now, eight are so rare you’d be lucky to ever have a need for it, and the others are so common they themselves have become root languages,” she smirked, “still, pretty damn good.” Tosh smiled back.
“All right, stop flirting with Tosh and meet the last of the team, Ianto Jones. Archivist and clean up man.” He brought her up to the young man in his impeccable dress. “The Mystic used be an archivist, she might be able to help us with all the unknowns we have in the vaults.”
Ianto nodded. “I’ll take you down there after you’ve gotten settled. I’m sure Jack hasn’t even started the proper paperwork, or figured out where you’ll be staying?” He looked over at the older man, shaking his head at Jack’s sheepish look. “I’ll have the paperwork pulled up. Though you might consider an alias for such mundane things as licensee, birth certificate, things that we can feed into the system so they think you’ve been here the whole time. After all, Mystic might raise the wrong kind of attention.” At her narrowing of her eyes, “I’m not saying give it up. Simply something for the paperwork.”
She sighed. “Lacey was something I went by as kid. So Lacey Johnson, I guess. Has a nice ring and all. How about twenty six for the age, since I’m pretty sure no one would buy seven hundred plus.”
Ianto nodded and walked off to find the right forms for the girl to fill out as Owen shook his head, “why couldn’t you just given us Lacey in the first place?”
“Cause it’s a stupid arse name that I got because I refused to wear anything but frilly lacey dresses,” she retorted, shooting another rubber band at his head.
“Stop shooting me with those damn bands, woman!”
“Stop acting like a dumb arse, and I’ll stop shooting you with them,” she grabbed another one off the desk, aiming it at Owen’s head before Jack took it away.
“Ok, kids, let’s stop this now, shall we. One last thing we need to figure out where you’re staying.”
“I assumed here, at least until I could find a place of my own. Nice and peaceful and…you have a pteradon?!” she exclaimed as it let out a shriek from its nest above them.
“That’s Myfanwy, kind of a hub a pet. She fell through the Rift. It was safer keeping her here than letting her run wild,” Ianto said coming back with paperwork.
“Ok, I am not staying here. She’s cool and all, but no way.” She shook her head. She had slept in trenches, with creatures similar to this one flying above. Once their song would put her to sleep like a lullaby, now the similar sounds this one made just hurt her heart. To have to live in the same building, even temporarily while they found her a flat was enough to make her shudder slightly.
“You could stay with me,” Tosh spoke up, “I’ve got the space, and it would be nice to have someone around the place a bit.”
The Mystic turned back to Tosh, tearing her eyes away from the flying creature. “You don’t mind?”
“Be nice to have a flat mate. Never taken one before because, well,” she gestured around them, “Not easy to explain these hours when you can’t talk about this.”
“Hmm, sure, why not?” Mystic smirked. “Now, I think that’s my cue to start working on that paperwork.” She sat down at one of the workstations, taking the paperwork, and set about starting her life in Torchwood. The others went back to their work, only one person noticing the look of pained nostalgia on the Time Lady’s face as Myfanwy let out another shriek.