Fic: The Valentine's Day Massacre (2/6)
The Valentine's Day Massacre (2/6)
Words: 35,300 (5500 this part)
***
Chapter 1
***
Chapter 2
***
Gwen came into work early. Technically today was a day off, but that meant the new people wouldn't come in. Dr. Pol had hosted another dinner party last night, and doubtless would be hungover for hours. Lois, while not quite as naive as Gwen herself had been when she'd started here, did still believe she could balance Torchwood and a social life, and was probably at brunch with friends. Albert was wherever Albert went when he wasn't at work. Reading to poor children or collecting stamps or sharpening his knife collection, God only knew.
Gwen liked the three of them very much. Lois was a dear, and Albert was a lamb, and Dr. Pol was better than everyone's mum. But she also liked her time here on ostensible days off, because she knew that eventually, Jack and Ianto would wander in, and for a little while, it would be like old days again.
Only this time, she didn't want them in just yet.
The Torchwood files were maddeningly spotty. After Tosh's death, Ianto had backed up all their data and sent discs to be securely stored in Glasgow. Gwen had spent weeks tracking down the discs and reinstalling all the old archives when she and Jack had set up shop here. The old records were as complete as they could be, minus a few CDs which had been damaged in transit.
She stopped herself mid-thought. Ianto had backed up the data, but hadn't helped her reload it. Jack had helped her set up the site here when they'd decided together that Cardiff was home and Torchwood belonged here. She couldn't recall what Ianto had been doing at the time. Perhaps he'd been in Glasgow, sorting out the records. He certainly hadn't been here, because they'd barely written anything down for months, so busy with cases, and he'd always insisted on the reports. Holdover from Torchwood London, he'd said.
Their records at the time of Freda's wedding said nothing about a missing child. The closest thing she found was a police report in Albert's files, a little boy who looked a bit like Steven. The cases she did find confused her more. She remembered some details. She remembered some faces. But everything was murky, like a play she'd seen rather than events she'd experienced personally.
She found a reference to an unusual case in America, and Jack had written a note to consult Rex. Gwen had to spend more than a minute trying to recall what he'd looked like, and came up with only a patchy visual. Worried, she pulled up what records they had on their impromptu team back then, and found herself looking at faces she wouldn't recognise if she saw them in a crowd now.
She found her father's file.
By the time Jack came in, his own features drawn in worry, she knew.
"Where's Ianto?"
"In the front office." Jack made his way to the coffee maker, and looked as though he might try to convince Ianto to come join them. Instead, he started the process himself. "I went to see Mopolite. He's giving us one week to deal with the Bugs ourselves before the Machine comes in after them."
"What's he going to do?"
"Make our lives difficult. I need to talk to the Boss today." The hot sputter of the coffee machine sent identical shivers through them. Perhaps they all did have a tiny addiction.
Gwen set the wedding invitation on the small prep table beside him, and saw him glance without comment.
"Jack, I need to ask you something."
"Sure."
Gwen tapped her leg nervously. "When did you Retcon me?"
Jack blinked at her over his mug, which he'd just spooned a bit of sugar into. "What?"
"My memories are all out of joint. I can't remember Freda's wedding. I barely remember what happened to my father. So I want to know. When did you give me Retcon, and how much of my life did you remove?"
Her voice was trembling by the end. She hadn't thought she would feel so betrayed, but as the enormity of her loss hit her, so did the rage. How much had she forgotten?
Jack set the mug down and stepped away from the coffee maker. Concerned, he asked, "Do you know what today is? Did it happen this week? I don't know who gave you Retcon, but we can find out."
"No. It's a whole span of time, Jack. I can remember bits, but it's like trying to remember the boy's name who sat behind me in school. Unless I try hard, I can't remember Vera's name. What happened to me?"
He held out his hand. She backed away. "Gwen, it's not what you think."
"It is. Somehow, you took away my memories. I can't remember half of when Anwen was a baby. I will never get that time back with her. Why did you do it?" She was shouting now, and she didn't care.
Jack watched her, but he didn't approach. "Gwen, I need you to listen to me. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation. I don't think you're going to remember this one, either. The Doctor reset time, more than once. Certain things that happened stopped having happened. You've got both sets of memories, but the current timeline is stronger. Try to remember."
The timeline. Jack telling her. She thought. Yes.
"You told me this before."
"Yes."
"Why can't I remember?"
He did approach her this time, and he took her hands. "Because it stopped being real. It's all right. You'll remember for a while, and it will go away again."
The memories trickled in around the edges, now they'd been unstoppered again. The missing child. He hadn't looked like Steven, that had been Steven they'd been looking for. He'd been lost, and …
Gwen stared at him. "Steven was dead. Ianto was dead."
Jack smiled, and it was the sad, broken smile she remembered from those bad days. "Yeah."
"They came back. And I … Oh God."
"You didn't know it was him. None of us did."
"You knew," Gwen said. At the end, just before the magic trick making the pair visible again, Jack had known the man they had in custody, the man Gwen had thought was threatening Martha. She wondered, then and now if, across space and time and death and wearing a face she couldn't see, she loved Rhys enough to know it was him standing before her. She wanted to believe the answer was yes.
"Don't tell him. Don't apologise. He doesn't want to know, and you won't remember you told him. All right?"
She nodded, guilt squirming away. Her gun had been heavy in her hand, and Martha's life was in danger. "I won't tell him. Jack, I don't want to forget again."
"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "You said that the last three times, too."
There was a crackle in her ear, at the same time Jack had a crackle in his. Albert's voice said, "I'm at Pol's. Get here now."
***
Mrs. Pettidear had her mobile out but the buttons were confusing her again. Her granddaughter insisted she keep this blasted thing on her. She might've spent more time indicating how it worked. She kept receiving calls from a nice young man who told her that her shirts were ready, and rang off.
The young man who stood in Irene's doorway looked like a hatchet had had a baby. She'd seen him with Irene from time to time but she didn't know his name.
"Did you see what happened?" he demanded.
"No. I heard the car pull away. Have you called 999?" She held up her mobile. "I can't get it to work."
A large SUV pulled up in front of the house, and three people poured out. Mrs. Pettidear thought they were Irene's friends. One of the men, a tall good-looking chap, said, "How is she?"
"Not good. Lois is in with her now."
Mrs. Pettidear said, "She needs an ambulance."
The woman smiled sadly. "She can't go to hospital. She's … "
"… allergic," said the second man. "Can't be around penicillin or latex."
And that was odd. Irene was a doctor, wasn't she? Before Mrs. Pettidear could ask, the four of them hurried into the flat, and the door shut tight. She stared down at her mobile again. Useless thing.
***
Lois followed Dr. Pol's mumbled instructions as best she could. She'd got extra towels to clean up the blood, and helped prod for broken bones. She found one of Dr. Pol's teeth on the floor, and swallowed her own cry, and swept it up with the rest of the mess. Albert was outside controlling the situation with Dr. Pol's neighbours. She wished he would swap with her.
"Can you sit up?"
"I think I might." With an effort, Lois helped her to the sofa, mindful of injuries they had yet to discover. "Thank you."
"Would some water help?"
"Not now. I need to think." Her eyes closed. Lois worried that she'd fall unconscious again, that she had brain injuries, that she would die here, now, in her flat with Lois helpless beside her. She heard a car door slam outside, and Jack's voice.
"Everyone's here now," she told Dr. Pol in a soothing tone. "We'll send for Dr. Smith. She'll know what to do."
Dr. Pol smiled grimly, showing sickly orange blood in her mouth. "I know what to do."
The door came open, and the rest of the team piled in. Jack knelt beside the couch. "Hey, Polly."
"Jack, if I find out those bastards tried to kill me in order to send you a message, I am going to break your legs." The sentence cost her. Her breathing went shallow. Lois hated this, hated having to wonder if her friend was about to die.
"Did you see who they were?"
She lay still. Finally, she said, "No. They were bundled against the cold. They may have been wearing perception filters. I couldn't see them properly." She held up her hand. "But I collected evidence, and I can identify one of them in a line-up. He'll be the one without eyes."
Albert said, "I collected samples from her. Permission to go analyse them?"
"Go," said Gwen, before Jack could reply. Albert nodded and was out the door like a shot.
"He was checking in on me," Dr. Pol said. "To see how my hangover was."
Jack asked, "Was it a good party?"
"The best."
Lois stepped back from the conversation, and noticed Ianto had grabbed the broom from where she'd set it. He tilted his head at her, and together they finished straightening up the mess while Jack talked to Pol, trying to see if she remembered anything about her assailants that would be helpful.
"It's got to be the Bugs," said Gwen, worry on her face. "Mopolite said he's staying away from Cardiff this week."
"Or he lied," said Jack flatly.
Lois's mobile pinged. "Albert says he passed the police and ambulance on his way. They're coming."
"I can't go to hospital," Pol said with a cough.
Jack stood. "Do you want to stay at the Hub, or with one of us? You can't stay here, and we have to go now."
"Hub."
For a moment, Lois was sure she wanted to say something else, but the sirens were in the distance. She glanced at their clean-up; it would have to do.
"Can you walk?" Jack asked her, helping her up.
"I don't think so."
Gwen said, "I'll bring the car to the back. They shouldn't see us carrying her out."
"Right. Lois, kindly tell the authorities when they arrive that this is a Torchwood matter. Ianto?"
Ianto was already there, catching Dr. Pol on the other side. The two of them lifted her as gently as they could and made their way to the back of the flat, as Gwen darted to get the car. Lois put on her professional face, and reminded herself to pack a bag for Pol as soon as she finished with the police.
***
The Bugs hadn't mastered the 'organised' part of 'organised crime' as yet. They kept the lid on the local aliens, finding them jobs with other aliens, moving merchandise, and making sure none of theirs ran afoul of the human authorities. Extraterrestrials and their Earth-born offspring were massively outnumbered. Every time the Daleks came, or the Sontarans, or the Cybermen, the resident aliens went underground and hoped the humans didn't start coming after them. For Jack, turning a blind eye to the somewhat law-abiding group meant less paperwork and overall a slightly safer city. Sometimes he had to lean on them. Sometimes someone overreached. But the arrangement worked, most days.
The Boss Bug was a matter of temporary assignment. The Hive currently in control of the other species had a shared mind. When one member was necessary to deal with someone, one of the Hive broke off and took on the role. If a Boss Bug was killed, another from the Hive took its place without a second thought. Efficient, Jack thought. Also annoying. He never knew if he was dealing with the same Bug.
The Bug sitting across from him now looked exactly like the last three Bosses, except Jack knew all three prior were dead. Mopolite's gang meant business.
"A week for what?" the Boss asked.
"He wants us to clean you out ourselves. Not really my style."
"Isn't it? Torchwood have hounded our people for decades."
Jack held its gaze, or what he was pretty sure were the active eyes this time. "That's in the past. You know I've left your people alone as long as they follow the rules."
"Your rules."
"Yeah, my rules. My planet."
The Bug chuckled. "Is that so? I was born here, Captain. My parents were hatched in Welsh soil." He extended a claw at the heavies in the room. One of them, he noticed, was Freda's husband. "They were born here. You were not. This is our world more than yours, and here you come, dictating to us how we should act."
"I've lived here longer than you, and I spent two thousand years in Welsh soil. We can argue all day about who belongs here. I don't intend to see you go. But as a friend, I wanted to warn you. Mopolite is giving you a few days. Don't let your guard down. When he comes in, he wants blood."
"And will you stand to protect us, Captain? Many of us are citizens. We pay taxes." The Boss enunciated the last word like a dark spell. "They are invaders. We will protect our own."
"Then you'll be slaughtered. He's given you a week. Spend it negotiating peace, or moving."
The Bug stood, two and a half metres of fury. "Mopolite will not have peace! We meet with him, and come home to find our young murdered, three times the fool for trusting his word!"
Jack got to his own feet. "I'm sorry for that. But it's a sign you need to barter, or the rest of your young will die, too."
"Go."
Jack turned to the door.
The Boss said, "Protect your own young, Captain, and we will protect ours."
***
Rhys greeted Gwen with her dinner when she finally wandered in and collapsed in a heap at the table. He didn't ask how bad her day had been, nor how long. He'd learned. Instead, he said, "She's awake if you want to see her."
"Thanks, I will." But she placed her head on her arms and ignored the food.
"Do you want to talk about it?" This was another thing he'd learned over the years.
"Dr. Pol was attacked in her home. We don't know why. Albert said the DNA was human, but that only means someone human is on the payroll."
Rhys liked Dr. Pol. She was on the round and jolly side, and had a great sense of humour for an alien from planet whatever. "Is she going to be okay?"
"We think so. Jack says Martha can't come help her, though." Her face went lost. "Rhys, would you hate me if I told you we might have to go into hiding again?"
He sat at the table but he stared in the direction of Anwen's bedroom. "Right now?"
"There's a war heating up between the two big alien gangs. My friend was nearly killed today, and I think it might be because of it."
"But she's an alien. Why'd they want to mess with her?"
"She's an alien working for Torchwood. That makes her a traitor to both sides." Gwen picked up her fork and twirled it instead of eating. "The more we try to help, the more we become targets ourselves. I don't want you and Anwen in danger because of me all over again."
"Then quit this business and take up sewing."
She shot him a look, but he stared back. "You know I won't."
"Of course I know you won't, love. So let's figure out what we're going to do this time."
She offered a tight smile back. "All right."
"By the way, did you sort out that thing this morning?"
"This morning?" She sighed. "Rhys, if the past is another country, this morning is at least a few streets away. Remind me, yeah?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. You said you were going in to look into something."
She frowned, then speared some vegetables onto her fork. "I probably did. I don't recall. Must not have been important."
***
Jack called Alice. She answered with, "What do you want?"
"Hello, Alice."
"Do not 'hello' me."
He backed down. Part of her would never, ever forgive him for what had happened. There was no point in telling her that most of him would never forgive himself, either. "I think it would be a good time for you and Steven to take a holiday."
Suspicion radiated like heat from the receiver. "What for?"
"Just for safety's sake. Take a trip. Come back in two weeks."
"He has school. If we went into hiding every time you did something stupid, we'd have to move every day. What did you do?"
"Nothing. I had a talk with someone today who made a threat. They could have been blowing smoke, or not, and I don't want to risk it. I don't want to risk you." He hoped he didn't have to add the 'again.' He knew he didn't have to remind her of the one time he couldn't protect her.
"Then stop them." Her tone was simple, flat. Despite everything, she still believed her father could fix anything. He'd even brought her son back from the dead.
"I'll do what I can."
"Dad?" Her voice had changed, was more ragged at the edge.
He switched gears instantly. "What is it?"
"I've been thinking about the timeline. The Doctor broke it, and brought back Steven by accident."
He'd done much more than that. Jack took note of jagged pieces resetting themselves each day. "More or less, yes."
"What will happen if he gets it into his head to fix things?" She took a hard breath. "Will he ... will they all just vanish? What happens to us if time is reset again?" She was nearly sobbing.
Speaking of extra horrors he didn't want tonight. Because he wasn't sure. The timeline had been reset half a dozen times or more. Jack himself had wiped out one timeline by killing that damn Paradox Device choking the poor TARDIS. Should the Doctor's mishaps reset things again, should he resolder the old pieces back into place, Jack could very well turn around one day to discover another hand in his had slipped away and was gone forever, would find an empty bedroom in Alice's house and an ache that would never end.
"I don't know. But if he does fix time and take them away from us, I swear I will do everything in my power to break it again. All right?"
There was a long pause, and he heard Steven running into the room, oblivious to his mother's fears. "All right. Goodbye, Dad." The line hummed.
***
February 10th
***
Lois woke with a crick in her neck. She'd offered to spend the first night with Dr. Pol, and she'd slept on the little camp bed they kept for overnights. Terrible, creaky thing. How anyone got sleep on that contraption, she'd never know.
Yawning, she padded over to the doctor. "Good morning, time to check your head."
"Bugger off," said Dr. Pol, with more amiability than anger. "I was sleeping."
"And now you're awake. How many fingers?"
Dr. Pol managed to raise her right hand. "Two."
"Naughty."
"Let me sleep."
Lois brought her a glass of water and two tablets. "You said you should take these every four hours. It's been four hours."
"Never trust a doctor's word." Pol took the tablets and the water. "When is Dr. Smith coming?"
"She's not." Lois resisted the urge to brush Pol's head. It would be annoying rather than soothing. "Jack says the Smiths are leaving the country."
"Ah. Don't want to be here for the war?"
"He didn't say. What would Dr. Smith have told you?"
"Sleep. Heal." Pol sighed. "X-rays. Blood work to ensure there were no toxins introduced. An MRI to check for soft tissue damage."
"We can do that."
"No, you can't." She turned her head away on the pillow. "Albert said they were human."
Lois nodded. "That's what the DNA said. He's running another scan right now to see if he can find out who."
"Did you know, I have spent the last twenty years of my life working as a doctor on this planet. I have cared for thousands of human patients. I've delivered babies, and healed coughs, and sat with the dead. I never got on with the aliens here. None of my people, none of my problem. You humans were enough for me." She sounded so sad.
Lois took her hand and squeezed, mindful of the wounds. "You're an amazing doctor." For all her protests, Lois knew very well any injured alien who dragged itself to Pol's door had found plasters and a warm smile, and she'd personally delivered a third of the alien infants born in Cardiff over the last few years.
"It doesn't matter. The moment I walked through a hospital door as a patient, I'd be an alien. A monster. Something to be studied or killed." She coughed.
"Jack wouldn't let that happen. None of us would."
"Wait and see. The aliens are fighting. The aliens are dying. When the humans start dying, all the aliens will look alike to you." She coughed again. "I can't even let the humans I live with know about me. They don't mind if I tend Mrs. Pettidear's bad leg or Mr. Clarence's gout. But tell them I'm not from Earth, and they'll be the first to stone me to death. You'll see."
Lois chewed at her lip. She could argue. She could point out she knew exactly how it felt for people to look at her and think she didn't belong there. She could tell stories of having to correct people over and over on her surname, and pretend she didn't hear them say she ought to go back. Back where, they didn't say, and she'd have to point out she was born and raised in Highbury.
But she also recognised a good snit, and a sad day, and it wasn't worth telling her now. Perhaps next week, or next month. They'd go for drinks, and talk.
"Get some rest."
***
Ianto had a lead on an item he wanted very badly from the old Hub. He hadn't even let himself consider most of their possessions were still intact. After the blast, much of what hadn't blown up had flooded. Still, piece after piece showed up in private hands. His friend Jessamyn at the paper put him onto the more unusual stories; her colleague David Brigstocke from the radio hounded him when he found out about the leads. Ianto ought to put Brigstocke onto Miss Valentine and let him break the story of a real, live telepath.
Jessamyn had interviewed the nice elderly gentleman whose owned the house where Ianto now sat. A war veteran, doddering and tired, Mr. Edson insisted on tea and cake before he'd even allow Ianto to speak.
Ianto carefully kept his gaze off his prize. "So you see, it's a rare piece, and I'd like to acquire it for my shop." He presented Mr. Edson with a business card. "I can offer you quite a sum of money. Two hundred pounds."
"Thanks," said the old pensioner, handing back the card. "But our Ainsley gave us that. She found it, special. Wouldn't want to hurt her feelings."
Ianto smiled kindly. "I understand, of course. But you see, and I hadn't wanted to mention, but I have a buyer who saw the piece in the article, and they dearly would love to add it to their collection. I can go up on the offer. Shall we say, two fifty?"
Edson looked pained. "Our Ainsley wouldn't like it." He made a sly face, and Ianto got a sinking feeling. "The lady on the phone offered us four hundred."
"Did the lady give you her name?"
"She might've." Edson wasn't budging. "I told her no."
If it was bloody Firestone again, all the man had done was guarantee a robbery. Ianto cursed inwardly but kept up his smile. "I can see you're devoted to your family, sir. My buyer is offering me five hundred pounds. However, they're the best client I have, and for you, just this once, I will dig into my own pocket. Six hundred for the piece, today. You won't get a better offer from anyone, and you can buy Ainsley anything she wants."
Edson took a loud slurp of his tea. "Mr. Jones, you have a deal."
Ianto counted out the money carefully, and a touch forlorn. He'd just spent next week's budget on a single artefact. He needed to raise his own operating capital, or resort to theft himself. The acquisition was worth every pound, though, and more.
"May I?" he asked, as Edson recounted the money. Edson nodded, and at last, Ianto turned to his prize, wrapping it with all due care in layers of cloths and putting the whole into a sturdy box.
"Thank you," he said, shaking the old man's hand. "You've made a good deal here."
As he walked Ianto to the door, Edson appeared doubtful. "I don't know why you want it. S'just a bit of coral."
***
Gwen took the early evening shift to help with poor Dr. Pol, and brought Anwen to play under what she hoped would be a close eye. Rhys was occupied with work, and they had no sitter.
Dr. Pol clucked disapprovingly, even as she reached out to snuggle "my favourite girl." Anwen giggled, and played a bit with the plasters until Gwen took her off Pol's hands. "None of that, now."
"Jack won't like it that she's been here."
"Jack can take it up with me," said Gwen firmly. "She's safe here."
"Nowhere is safe," Pol said, and rolled over with some effort. Gwen kept an eye on her, kept an eye on Anwen, and went through some of her files. She noticed a snap at her work station. Freda Evans. She'd just been to see her the other day, and that was her man with her. She flipped the card over. Old wedding invitation. Something nibbled at her thoughts.
Anwen giggled, and Gwen lost the thought, absently dropping the snap into a folder marked Miscellaneous. "What did you find, love?"
"I believe the horses are having a party with the army men," said Pol, half-asleep.
"Anna birds," Anwen said. The Angry Birds had become a steady fixture of her imagination play. Rhys said it was a sign her brain was developing normally. Gwen said he shouldn't have let her play on his mobile.
"I'll be fine, you know," Pol said through a yawn. "I'm not going to expire without someone here fluffing my pillows. I can wait until Albert comes in at midnight if you want to take this dear thing home."
"You take such good care of us, it's our turn to take care of you."
"Gwen, dearest, if I asked you for some soup right now, you'd burn down the Hub."
Gwen laughed in her sudden shock and mild outrage. "I would do no such thing!" She saw the disbelief in the doctor's eyes, and relented. "I'd get takeaway."
She'd brought takeaway to Freda's this afternoon. They'd fallen out of touch, and Gwen felt guilty. She'd meant to keep track of the girl. Woman, now, Gwen reminded herself. Her husband had been out. "At work," Freda had said around the hot chips she stuffed in her mouth. Always half-starved, that one.
"Jack said he saw Slaus with the Boss Bug. He's not mixed up in that gangs business, is he?"
Freda had gone cagey then, not answering questions. She was fine, thank you for the food, so sad you can't stay. Gwen took the hint, but said at the doorstep, "We can help you. Really, don't get involved in the gangs. That's dangerous business. I can get you a job in a shop somewhere. Your man, too."
"Thanks for your interest," Freda had said, but her eyes had been sad and wary, and asked where Gwen had been when that might have been helpful.
In the here and now, Anwen yawned. Gwen lifted her up and cuddled her. She couldn't fix the mistakes she'd made before. She could only try to do better going forward.
***
February 11th
***
None of Ianto's searches for the day panned out. Firestone had been there weeks before for the first ping, and the second 'artefact' was nothing but a souvenir from Gibraltar. Jack dragged him out for lunch and to look at cars. Which was, Ianto thought as his sulk faded, not a bad way to spend time together, especially when Jack panted almost as much over the 1971 Aston Martin Lagonda Limited (5.34 litre V8) as he did over the cute sales clerk. Neither had any chance of coming home with them, but the prospect of both made for a quick but frisky stop on their way back to work. No getting off now, but definitely a nice promise for later.
Jack slung his arm over Ianto as they drove their far less sexy car towards the new Hub. "We should go car shopping more often."
"I need a car. Something reliable."
"With a large back seat."
"Obviously."
Jack slouched. "The nicest car I ever owned was a 1930 Alfa Romeo. No back seat, but boy, that baby could handle."
"I'm picturing you with the driving goggles and scarf."
"But I look good in them, don't I?"
Ianto swore inside his head, because yes, even fantasy Jack in the stupid driving get-up was sex on a stick.
"Tell you what," said Jack. "I'll dress up in that for you later. Just the goggles, the scarf, and the driving gloves."
Between that, and the aborted make-out session, Ianto knew his trousers were going to be uncomfortable for the next hour. "You did that on purpose." Not only would he be frustrated now, they'd each chosen a different shift tonight to look after Dr. Pol.
Jack winked, and held his hand as they walked from the car park to the door. Perhaps the anticipation wouldn't be so tedious.
Ianto's good mood lasted until his mobile rang some hours later. "Hi."
Steven said, "Hi."
"How's your day going?" Ianto kept his tone upbeat, but worried. Steven didn't call often these days. Ianto made a point of calling him almost every day, and that seemed to be enough. When Steven didn't respond, Ianto's worry grew. "Is everything all right?"
"Mum's not here."
Ianto went to say something trite, but he stopped himself in time. Steven was clearly upset. He glanced at the time, and noticed it was past six. Alice was home by five at the latest. "Did she call?"
"No. I tried phoning her." His fear trembled in his voice.
"All right. I'll try phoning her right now, and I'll call you back. Stay in the house, all right?"
"All right."
He rang off and dialled Alice's number. It went to voicemail all three times he tried. He rang Steven again. "Maybe her phone isn't working. Look, I'm done here. I'll get in the car and come to yours, and we can wait together, all right?"
"All right."
"Just stay there. Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Eat something. Cereal. A sandwich. Don't use the hob. I'll be there as soon as I can."
He ran into the Hub proper and went into Jack's office without knocking. Jack looked up from a report. "What now?"
For half a second, Ianto didn't want to tell him, but delaying the news wouldn't make the words easier. "Alice hasn't come home."
***
Chapter 3
Words: 35,300 (5500 this part)
***
Chapter 1
***
Chapter 2
***
Gwen came into work early. Technically today was a day off, but that meant the new people wouldn't come in. Dr. Pol had hosted another dinner party last night, and doubtless would be hungover for hours. Lois, while not quite as naive as Gwen herself had been when she'd started here, did still believe she could balance Torchwood and a social life, and was probably at brunch with friends. Albert was wherever Albert went when he wasn't at work. Reading to poor children or collecting stamps or sharpening his knife collection, God only knew.
Gwen liked the three of them very much. Lois was a dear, and Albert was a lamb, and Dr. Pol was better than everyone's mum. But she also liked her time here on ostensible days off, because she knew that eventually, Jack and Ianto would wander in, and for a little while, it would be like old days again.
Only this time, she didn't want them in just yet.
The Torchwood files were maddeningly spotty. After Tosh's death, Ianto had backed up all their data and sent discs to be securely stored in Glasgow. Gwen had spent weeks tracking down the discs and reinstalling all the old archives when she and Jack had set up shop here. The old records were as complete as they could be, minus a few CDs which had been damaged in transit.
She stopped herself mid-thought. Ianto had backed up the data, but hadn't helped her reload it. Jack had helped her set up the site here when they'd decided together that Cardiff was home and Torchwood belonged here. She couldn't recall what Ianto had been doing at the time. Perhaps he'd been in Glasgow, sorting out the records. He certainly hadn't been here, because they'd barely written anything down for months, so busy with cases, and he'd always insisted on the reports. Holdover from Torchwood London, he'd said.
Their records at the time of Freda's wedding said nothing about a missing child. The closest thing she found was a police report in Albert's files, a little boy who looked a bit like Steven. The cases she did find confused her more. She remembered some details. She remembered some faces. But everything was murky, like a play she'd seen rather than events she'd experienced personally.
She found a reference to an unusual case in America, and Jack had written a note to consult Rex. Gwen had to spend more than a minute trying to recall what he'd looked like, and came up with only a patchy visual. Worried, she pulled up what records they had on their impromptu team back then, and found herself looking at faces she wouldn't recognise if she saw them in a crowd now.
She found her father's file.
By the time Jack came in, his own features drawn in worry, she knew.
"Where's Ianto?"
"In the front office." Jack made his way to the coffee maker, and looked as though he might try to convince Ianto to come join them. Instead, he started the process himself. "I went to see Mopolite. He's giving us one week to deal with the Bugs ourselves before the Machine comes in after them."
"What's he going to do?"
"Make our lives difficult. I need to talk to the Boss today." The hot sputter of the coffee machine sent identical shivers through them. Perhaps they all did have a tiny addiction.
Gwen set the wedding invitation on the small prep table beside him, and saw him glance without comment.
"Jack, I need to ask you something."
"Sure."
Gwen tapped her leg nervously. "When did you Retcon me?"
Jack blinked at her over his mug, which he'd just spooned a bit of sugar into. "What?"
"My memories are all out of joint. I can't remember Freda's wedding. I barely remember what happened to my father. So I want to know. When did you give me Retcon, and how much of my life did you remove?"
Her voice was trembling by the end. She hadn't thought she would feel so betrayed, but as the enormity of her loss hit her, so did the rage. How much had she forgotten?
Jack set the mug down and stepped away from the coffee maker. Concerned, he asked, "Do you know what today is? Did it happen this week? I don't know who gave you Retcon, but we can find out."
"No. It's a whole span of time, Jack. I can remember bits, but it's like trying to remember the boy's name who sat behind me in school. Unless I try hard, I can't remember Vera's name. What happened to me?"
He held out his hand. She backed away. "Gwen, it's not what you think."
"It is. Somehow, you took away my memories. I can't remember half of when Anwen was a baby. I will never get that time back with her. Why did you do it?" She was shouting now, and she didn't care.
Jack watched her, but he didn't approach. "Gwen, I need you to listen to me. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation. I don't think you're going to remember this one, either. The Doctor reset time, more than once. Certain things that happened stopped having happened. You've got both sets of memories, but the current timeline is stronger. Try to remember."
The timeline. Jack telling her. She thought. Yes.
"You told me this before."
"Yes."
"Why can't I remember?"
He did approach her this time, and he took her hands. "Because it stopped being real. It's all right. You'll remember for a while, and it will go away again."
The memories trickled in around the edges, now they'd been unstoppered again. The missing child. He hadn't looked like Steven, that had been Steven they'd been looking for. He'd been lost, and …
Gwen stared at him. "Steven was dead. Ianto was dead."
Jack smiled, and it was the sad, broken smile she remembered from those bad days. "Yeah."
"They came back. And I … Oh God."
"You didn't know it was him. None of us did."
"You knew," Gwen said. At the end, just before the magic trick making the pair visible again, Jack had known the man they had in custody, the man Gwen had thought was threatening Martha. She wondered, then and now if, across space and time and death and wearing a face she couldn't see, she loved Rhys enough to know it was him standing before her. She wanted to believe the answer was yes.
"Don't tell him. Don't apologise. He doesn't want to know, and you won't remember you told him. All right?"
She nodded, guilt squirming away. Her gun had been heavy in her hand, and Martha's life was in danger. "I won't tell him. Jack, I don't want to forget again."
"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "You said that the last three times, too."
There was a crackle in her ear, at the same time Jack had a crackle in his. Albert's voice said, "I'm at Pol's. Get here now."
***
Mrs. Pettidear had her mobile out but the buttons were confusing her again. Her granddaughter insisted she keep this blasted thing on her. She might've spent more time indicating how it worked. She kept receiving calls from a nice young man who told her that her shirts were ready, and rang off.
The young man who stood in Irene's doorway looked like a hatchet had had a baby. She'd seen him with Irene from time to time but she didn't know his name.
"Did you see what happened?" he demanded.
"No. I heard the car pull away. Have you called 999?" She held up her mobile. "I can't get it to work."
A large SUV pulled up in front of the house, and three people poured out. Mrs. Pettidear thought they were Irene's friends. One of the men, a tall good-looking chap, said, "How is she?"
"Not good. Lois is in with her now."
Mrs. Pettidear said, "She needs an ambulance."
The woman smiled sadly. "She can't go to hospital. She's … "
"… allergic," said the second man. "Can't be around penicillin or latex."
And that was odd. Irene was a doctor, wasn't she? Before Mrs. Pettidear could ask, the four of them hurried into the flat, and the door shut tight. She stared down at her mobile again. Useless thing.
***
Lois followed Dr. Pol's mumbled instructions as best she could. She'd got extra towels to clean up the blood, and helped prod for broken bones. She found one of Dr. Pol's teeth on the floor, and swallowed her own cry, and swept it up with the rest of the mess. Albert was outside controlling the situation with Dr. Pol's neighbours. She wished he would swap with her.
"Can you sit up?"
"I think I might." With an effort, Lois helped her to the sofa, mindful of injuries they had yet to discover. "Thank you."
"Would some water help?"
"Not now. I need to think." Her eyes closed. Lois worried that she'd fall unconscious again, that she had brain injuries, that she would die here, now, in her flat with Lois helpless beside her. She heard a car door slam outside, and Jack's voice.
"Everyone's here now," she told Dr. Pol in a soothing tone. "We'll send for Dr. Smith. She'll know what to do."
Dr. Pol smiled grimly, showing sickly orange blood in her mouth. "I know what to do."
The door came open, and the rest of the team piled in. Jack knelt beside the couch. "Hey, Polly."
"Jack, if I find out those bastards tried to kill me in order to send you a message, I am going to break your legs." The sentence cost her. Her breathing went shallow. Lois hated this, hated having to wonder if her friend was about to die.
"Did you see who they were?"
She lay still. Finally, she said, "No. They were bundled against the cold. They may have been wearing perception filters. I couldn't see them properly." She held up her hand. "But I collected evidence, and I can identify one of them in a line-up. He'll be the one without eyes."
Albert said, "I collected samples from her. Permission to go analyse them?"
"Go," said Gwen, before Jack could reply. Albert nodded and was out the door like a shot.
"He was checking in on me," Dr. Pol said. "To see how my hangover was."
Jack asked, "Was it a good party?"
"The best."
Lois stepped back from the conversation, and noticed Ianto had grabbed the broom from where she'd set it. He tilted his head at her, and together they finished straightening up the mess while Jack talked to Pol, trying to see if she remembered anything about her assailants that would be helpful.
"It's got to be the Bugs," said Gwen, worry on her face. "Mopolite said he's staying away from Cardiff this week."
"Or he lied," said Jack flatly.
Lois's mobile pinged. "Albert says he passed the police and ambulance on his way. They're coming."
"I can't go to hospital," Pol said with a cough.
Jack stood. "Do you want to stay at the Hub, or with one of us? You can't stay here, and we have to go now."
"Hub."
For a moment, Lois was sure she wanted to say something else, but the sirens were in the distance. She glanced at their clean-up; it would have to do.
"Can you walk?" Jack asked her, helping her up.
"I don't think so."
Gwen said, "I'll bring the car to the back. They shouldn't see us carrying her out."
"Right. Lois, kindly tell the authorities when they arrive that this is a Torchwood matter. Ianto?"
Ianto was already there, catching Dr. Pol on the other side. The two of them lifted her as gently as they could and made their way to the back of the flat, as Gwen darted to get the car. Lois put on her professional face, and reminded herself to pack a bag for Pol as soon as she finished with the police.
***
The Bugs hadn't mastered the 'organised' part of 'organised crime' as yet. They kept the lid on the local aliens, finding them jobs with other aliens, moving merchandise, and making sure none of theirs ran afoul of the human authorities. Extraterrestrials and their Earth-born offspring were massively outnumbered. Every time the Daleks came, or the Sontarans, or the Cybermen, the resident aliens went underground and hoped the humans didn't start coming after them. For Jack, turning a blind eye to the somewhat law-abiding group meant less paperwork and overall a slightly safer city. Sometimes he had to lean on them. Sometimes someone overreached. But the arrangement worked, most days.
The Boss Bug was a matter of temporary assignment. The Hive currently in control of the other species had a shared mind. When one member was necessary to deal with someone, one of the Hive broke off and took on the role. If a Boss Bug was killed, another from the Hive took its place without a second thought. Efficient, Jack thought. Also annoying. He never knew if he was dealing with the same Bug.
The Bug sitting across from him now looked exactly like the last three Bosses, except Jack knew all three prior were dead. Mopolite's gang meant business.
"A week for what?" the Boss asked.
"He wants us to clean you out ourselves. Not really my style."
"Isn't it? Torchwood have hounded our people for decades."
Jack held its gaze, or what he was pretty sure were the active eyes this time. "That's in the past. You know I've left your people alone as long as they follow the rules."
"Your rules."
"Yeah, my rules. My planet."
The Bug chuckled. "Is that so? I was born here, Captain. My parents were hatched in Welsh soil." He extended a claw at the heavies in the room. One of them, he noticed, was Freda's husband. "They were born here. You were not. This is our world more than yours, and here you come, dictating to us how we should act."
"I've lived here longer than you, and I spent two thousand years in Welsh soil. We can argue all day about who belongs here. I don't intend to see you go. But as a friend, I wanted to warn you. Mopolite is giving you a few days. Don't let your guard down. When he comes in, he wants blood."
"And will you stand to protect us, Captain? Many of us are citizens. We pay taxes." The Boss enunciated the last word like a dark spell. "They are invaders. We will protect our own."
"Then you'll be slaughtered. He's given you a week. Spend it negotiating peace, or moving."
The Bug stood, two and a half metres of fury. "Mopolite will not have peace! We meet with him, and come home to find our young murdered, three times the fool for trusting his word!"
Jack got to his own feet. "I'm sorry for that. But it's a sign you need to barter, or the rest of your young will die, too."
"Go."
Jack turned to the door.
The Boss said, "Protect your own young, Captain, and we will protect ours."
***
Rhys greeted Gwen with her dinner when she finally wandered in and collapsed in a heap at the table. He didn't ask how bad her day had been, nor how long. He'd learned. Instead, he said, "She's awake if you want to see her."
"Thanks, I will." But she placed her head on her arms and ignored the food.
"Do you want to talk about it?" This was another thing he'd learned over the years.
"Dr. Pol was attacked in her home. We don't know why. Albert said the DNA was human, but that only means someone human is on the payroll."
Rhys liked Dr. Pol. She was on the round and jolly side, and had a great sense of humour for an alien from planet whatever. "Is she going to be okay?"
"We think so. Jack says Martha can't come help her, though." Her face went lost. "Rhys, would you hate me if I told you we might have to go into hiding again?"
He sat at the table but he stared in the direction of Anwen's bedroom. "Right now?"
"There's a war heating up between the two big alien gangs. My friend was nearly killed today, and I think it might be because of it."
"But she's an alien. Why'd they want to mess with her?"
"She's an alien working for Torchwood. That makes her a traitor to both sides." Gwen picked up her fork and twirled it instead of eating. "The more we try to help, the more we become targets ourselves. I don't want you and Anwen in danger because of me all over again."
"Then quit this business and take up sewing."
She shot him a look, but he stared back. "You know I won't."
"Of course I know you won't, love. So let's figure out what we're going to do this time."
She offered a tight smile back. "All right."
"By the way, did you sort out that thing this morning?"
"This morning?" She sighed. "Rhys, if the past is another country, this morning is at least a few streets away. Remind me, yeah?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. You said you were going in to look into something."
She frowned, then speared some vegetables onto her fork. "I probably did. I don't recall. Must not have been important."
***
Jack called Alice. She answered with, "What do you want?"
"Hello, Alice."
"Do not 'hello' me."
He backed down. Part of her would never, ever forgive him for what had happened. There was no point in telling her that most of him would never forgive himself, either. "I think it would be a good time for you and Steven to take a holiday."
Suspicion radiated like heat from the receiver. "What for?"
"Just for safety's sake. Take a trip. Come back in two weeks."
"He has school. If we went into hiding every time you did something stupid, we'd have to move every day. What did you do?"
"Nothing. I had a talk with someone today who made a threat. They could have been blowing smoke, or not, and I don't want to risk it. I don't want to risk you." He hoped he didn't have to add the 'again.' He knew he didn't have to remind her of the one time he couldn't protect her.
"Then stop them." Her tone was simple, flat. Despite everything, she still believed her father could fix anything. He'd even brought her son back from the dead.
"I'll do what I can."
"Dad?" Her voice had changed, was more ragged at the edge.
He switched gears instantly. "What is it?"
"I've been thinking about the timeline. The Doctor broke it, and brought back Steven by accident."
He'd done much more than that. Jack took note of jagged pieces resetting themselves each day. "More or less, yes."
"What will happen if he gets it into his head to fix things?" She took a hard breath. "Will he ... will they all just vanish? What happens to us if time is reset again?" She was nearly sobbing.
Speaking of extra horrors he didn't want tonight. Because he wasn't sure. The timeline had been reset half a dozen times or more. Jack himself had wiped out one timeline by killing that damn Paradox Device choking the poor TARDIS. Should the Doctor's mishaps reset things again, should he resolder the old pieces back into place, Jack could very well turn around one day to discover another hand in his had slipped away and was gone forever, would find an empty bedroom in Alice's house and an ache that would never end.
"I don't know. But if he does fix time and take them away from us, I swear I will do everything in my power to break it again. All right?"
There was a long pause, and he heard Steven running into the room, oblivious to his mother's fears. "All right. Goodbye, Dad." The line hummed.
***
February 10th
***
Lois woke with a crick in her neck. She'd offered to spend the first night with Dr. Pol, and she'd slept on the little camp bed they kept for overnights. Terrible, creaky thing. How anyone got sleep on that contraption, she'd never know.
Yawning, she padded over to the doctor. "Good morning, time to check your head."
"Bugger off," said Dr. Pol, with more amiability than anger. "I was sleeping."
"And now you're awake. How many fingers?"
Dr. Pol managed to raise her right hand. "Two."
"Naughty."
"Let me sleep."
Lois brought her a glass of water and two tablets. "You said you should take these every four hours. It's been four hours."
"Never trust a doctor's word." Pol took the tablets and the water. "When is Dr. Smith coming?"
"She's not." Lois resisted the urge to brush Pol's head. It would be annoying rather than soothing. "Jack says the Smiths are leaving the country."
"Ah. Don't want to be here for the war?"
"He didn't say. What would Dr. Smith have told you?"
"Sleep. Heal." Pol sighed. "X-rays. Blood work to ensure there were no toxins introduced. An MRI to check for soft tissue damage."
"We can do that."
"No, you can't." She turned her head away on the pillow. "Albert said they were human."
Lois nodded. "That's what the DNA said. He's running another scan right now to see if he can find out who."
"Did you know, I have spent the last twenty years of my life working as a doctor on this planet. I have cared for thousands of human patients. I've delivered babies, and healed coughs, and sat with the dead. I never got on with the aliens here. None of my people, none of my problem. You humans were enough for me." She sounded so sad.
Lois took her hand and squeezed, mindful of the wounds. "You're an amazing doctor." For all her protests, Lois knew very well any injured alien who dragged itself to Pol's door had found plasters and a warm smile, and she'd personally delivered a third of the alien infants born in Cardiff over the last few years.
"It doesn't matter. The moment I walked through a hospital door as a patient, I'd be an alien. A monster. Something to be studied or killed." She coughed.
"Jack wouldn't let that happen. None of us would."
"Wait and see. The aliens are fighting. The aliens are dying. When the humans start dying, all the aliens will look alike to you." She coughed again. "I can't even let the humans I live with know about me. They don't mind if I tend Mrs. Pettidear's bad leg or Mr. Clarence's gout. But tell them I'm not from Earth, and they'll be the first to stone me to death. You'll see."
Lois chewed at her lip. She could argue. She could point out she knew exactly how it felt for people to look at her and think she didn't belong there. She could tell stories of having to correct people over and over on her surname, and pretend she didn't hear them say she ought to go back. Back where, they didn't say, and she'd have to point out she was born and raised in Highbury.
But she also recognised a good snit, and a sad day, and it wasn't worth telling her now. Perhaps next week, or next month. They'd go for drinks, and talk.
"Get some rest."
***
Ianto had a lead on an item he wanted very badly from the old Hub. He hadn't even let himself consider most of their possessions were still intact. After the blast, much of what hadn't blown up had flooded. Still, piece after piece showed up in private hands. His friend Jessamyn at the paper put him onto the more unusual stories; her colleague David Brigstocke from the radio hounded him when he found out about the leads. Ianto ought to put Brigstocke onto Miss Valentine and let him break the story of a real, live telepath.
Jessamyn had interviewed the nice elderly gentleman whose owned the house where Ianto now sat. A war veteran, doddering and tired, Mr. Edson insisted on tea and cake before he'd even allow Ianto to speak.
Ianto carefully kept his gaze off his prize. "So you see, it's a rare piece, and I'd like to acquire it for my shop." He presented Mr. Edson with a business card. "I can offer you quite a sum of money. Two hundred pounds."
"Thanks," said the old pensioner, handing back the card. "But our Ainsley gave us that. She found it, special. Wouldn't want to hurt her feelings."
Ianto smiled kindly. "I understand, of course. But you see, and I hadn't wanted to mention, but I have a buyer who saw the piece in the article, and they dearly would love to add it to their collection. I can go up on the offer. Shall we say, two fifty?"
Edson looked pained. "Our Ainsley wouldn't like it." He made a sly face, and Ianto got a sinking feeling. "The lady on the phone offered us four hundred."
"Did the lady give you her name?"
"She might've." Edson wasn't budging. "I told her no."
If it was bloody Firestone again, all the man had done was guarantee a robbery. Ianto cursed inwardly but kept up his smile. "I can see you're devoted to your family, sir. My buyer is offering me five hundred pounds. However, they're the best client I have, and for you, just this once, I will dig into my own pocket. Six hundred for the piece, today. You won't get a better offer from anyone, and you can buy Ainsley anything she wants."
Edson took a loud slurp of his tea. "Mr. Jones, you have a deal."
Ianto counted out the money carefully, and a touch forlorn. He'd just spent next week's budget on a single artefact. He needed to raise his own operating capital, or resort to theft himself. The acquisition was worth every pound, though, and more.
"May I?" he asked, as Edson recounted the money. Edson nodded, and at last, Ianto turned to his prize, wrapping it with all due care in layers of cloths and putting the whole into a sturdy box.
"Thank you," he said, shaking the old man's hand. "You've made a good deal here."
As he walked Ianto to the door, Edson appeared doubtful. "I don't know why you want it. S'just a bit of coral."
***
Gwen took the early evening shift to help with poor Dr. Pol, and brought Anwen to play under what she hoped would be a close eye. Rhys was occupied with work, and they had no sitter.
Dr. Pol clucked disapprovingly, even as she reached out to snuggle "my favourite girl." Anwen giggled, and played a bit with the plasters until Gwen took her off Pol's hands. "None of that, now."
"Jack won't like it that she's been here."
"Jack can take it up with me," said Gwen firmly. "She's safe here."
"Nowhere is safe," Pol said, and rolled over with some effort. Gwen kept an eye on her, kept an eye on Anwen, and went through some of her files. She noticed a snap at her work station. Freda Evans. She'd just been to see her the other day, and that was her man with her. She flipped the card over. Old wedding invitation. Something nibbled at her thoughts.
Anwen giggled, and Gwen lost the thought, absently dropping the snap into a folder marked Miscellaneous. "What did you find, love?"
"I believe the horses are having a party with the army men," said Pol, half-asleep.
"Anna birds," Anwen said. The Angry Birds had become a steady fixture of her imagination play. Rhys said it was a sign her brain was developing normally. Gwen said he shouldn't have let her play on his mobile.
"I'll be fine, you know," Pol said through a yawn. "I'm not going to expire without someone here fluffing my pillows. I can wait until Albert comes in at midnight if you want to take this dear thing home."
"You take such good care of us, it's our turn to take care of you."
"Gwen, dearest, if I asked you for some soup right now, you'd burn down the Hub."
Gwen laughed in her sudden shock and mild outrage. "I would do no such thing!" She saw the disbelief in the doctor's eyes, and relented. "I'd get takeaway."
She'd brought takeaway to Freda's this afternoon. They'd fallen out of touch, and Gwen felt guilty. She'd meant to keep track of the girl. Woman, now, Gwen reminded herself. Her husband had been out. "At work," Freda had said around the hot chips she stuffed in her mouth. Always half-starved, that one.
"Jack said he saw Slaus with the Boss Bug. He's not mixed up in that gangs business, is he?"
Freda had gone cagey then, not answering questions. She was fine, thank you for the food, so sad you can't stay. Gwen took the hint, but said at the doorstep, "We can help you. Really, don't get involved in the gangs. That's dangerous business. I can get you a job in a shop somewhere. Your man, too."
"Thanks for your interest," Freda had said, but her eyes had been sad and wary, and asked where Gwen had been when that might have been helpful.
In the here and now, Anwen yawned. Gwen lifted her up and cuddled her. She couldn't fix the mistakes she'd made before. She could only try to do better going forward.
***
February 11th
***
None of Ianto's searches for the day panned out. Firestone had been there weeks before for the first ping, and the second 'artefact' was nothing but a souvenir from Gibraltar. Jack dragged him out for lunch and to look at cars. Which was, Ianto thought as his sulk faded, not a bad way to spend time together, especially when Jack panted almost as much over the 1971 Aston Martin Lagonda Limited (5.34 litre V8) as he did over the cute sales clerk. Neither had any chance of coming home with them, but the prospect of both made for a quick but frisky stop on their way back to work. No getting off now, but definitely a nice promise for later.
Jack slung his arm over Ianto as they drove their far less sexy car towards the new Hub. "We should go car shopping more often."
"I need a car. Something reliable."
"With a large back seat."
"Obviously."
Jack slouched. "The nicest car I ever owned was a 1930 Alfa Romeo. No back seat, but boy, that baby could handle."
"I'm picturing you with the driving goggles and scarf."
"But I look good in them, don't I?"
Ianto swore inside his head, because yes, even fantasy Jack in the stupid driving get-up was sex on a stick.
"Tell you what," said Jack. "I'll dress up in that for you later. Just the goggles, the scarf, and the driving gloves."
Between that, and the aborted make-out session, Ianto knew his trousers were going to be uncomfortable for the next hour. "You did that on purpose." Not only would he be frustrated now, they'd each chosen a different shift tonight to look after Dr. Pol.
Jack winked, and held his hand as they walked from the car park to the door. Perhaps the anticipation wouldn't be so tedious.
Ianto's good mood lasted until his mobile rang some hours later. "Hi."
Steven said, "Hi."
"How's your day going?" Ianto kept his tone upbeat, but worried. Steven didn't call often these days. Ianto made a point of calling him almost every day, and that seemed to be enough. When Steven didn't respond, Ianto's worry grew. "Is everything all right?"
"Mum's not here."
Ianto went to say something trite, but he stopped himself in time. Steven was clearly upset. He glanced at the time, and noticed it was past six. Alice was home by five at the latest. "Did she call?"
"No. I tried phoning her." His fear trembled in his voice.
"All right. I'll try phoning her right now, and I'll call you back. Stay in the house, all right?"
"All right."
He rang off and dialled Alice's number. It went to voicemail all three times he tried. He rang Steven again. "Maybe her phone isn't working. Look, I'm done here. I'll get in the car and come to yours, and we can wait together, all right?"
"All right."
"Just stay there. Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Eat something. Cereal. A sandwich. Don't use the hob. I'll be there as soon as I can."
He ran into the Hub proper and went into Jack's office without knocking. Jack looked up from a report. "What now?"
For half a second, Ianto didn't want to tell him, but delaying the news wouldn't make the words easier. "Alice hasn't come home."
***
Chapter 3