DW/TW Story: Wonderland (2/5)
Title: Wonderland (2/5)
Rating: PG-15
Characters: ensemble
Pairings: Yes. Many.
Spoilers: Nu!Who 'verse up through CoE, possible casting spoilers for '09 Christmas special
Warnings: extreme self-indulgence, angsty emo (mostly Jack), character death (also mostly Jack), child endangerment, mentions of torture circa The Year That Never Was, sentence fragments, and believe it or not given the other warnings, massive amounts of fluff. It is deeply twee, interspersed with moderate horror.
Beta: With greatest thanks to brinshannara for the translation and my beloved Ab for the read-through.
Author's Note: I hadn't intended to write a sequel to " Six Hundred Seconds" (and in fact suggest that anyone who enjoyed that story avoid this one). But then I looked down into the rabbit hole, and lo, the bunnies living there were so very densely fluffy that they changed the orbits of nearby stars. Title in honour of said rabbit hole and not the Who novel.
Part One
***
Part Two
***
Jack stared at the hand in front of him. Lisa, and of all the Lisas in the world this was the one he'd thought he'd never see again, had a careful smile that was already fading. Flirty Jack woke up at the sight of a beautiful woman, and after the awkward pause, he swept her hand up and kissed it.
"Captain Jack Harkness. Nice to meet you, Lisa Jones."
Her eyes opened at the name, and Bren leaned over. Jack heard: "The one I told you about."
"You run the cruise line," she said, but the delight in her voice didn't meet her eyes. She knew his name.
"Lisa just moved here from Paris," said Bren. She sighed wistfully.
"Where are you from?" Lois asked. "That's a London accent, yeah?"
Lisa nodded, her eyes still watching Jack. "My husband's from Cardiff. When I got the offer, we decided to move closer to his family."
"I should go," Jack said. "I was going to get Tosh some lunch."
"Stay!" said Bren, and scooted over. That made two spaces for Jack at a table where he had no intention of sitting. Gwen watched him curiously over her drink.
Lois cut in. "No rest for the wicked. We should be getting back too."
"Don't worry about it," Jack said too quickly, and then his savior came into the café in the unlikely guise of …
"That's where you all went!" said Mickey, his voice easily carrying over the bustle of the room.
Jack's smile came back as Mickey walked over, and he placed a friendly hand on Mickey's back. "Time to go," he said before Mickey could say hi. "Later, ladies." He kept hold of Mickey as they went back to the lunch line.
Someone said behind him, "Why are the good-looking ones always gay?"
"You have ten seconds to remove that hand."
"Not till we're out of sight."
"They've stopped watching."
"Okay, then." Jack dropped the hand.
"Under no circumstances am I ever to play your beard again, got me?" Mickey got into line and before Jack could mention, he picked up a tuna sandwich along with a roast beef. At Jack's look he said, "Toshiko likes tuna on Tuesdays."
"Good to know."
Jack went back to the office, let himself into the Hub. The third Hub. H3. He suspected Rhys' hand in the name. He went to his own office, closed the door, and rested his face in his hands.
They'd just moved. The change of address wouldn't be reflected in the systems yet unless he'd known to look. Which meant that any day, at any time, he could be walking down the street, or worse, walking down the hallway here, and the world would end suddenly with the rush of leathery wings.
Ah, dammit.
From outside, he heard Mickey come in and talk to Tosh, though he couldn't make out what they said. Johnson said something to Gwen a minute later; he must have walked right past her.
There was a tap on his door.
"Having a private moment," he said, hoping whoever it was would think he was in here jerking off instead of contemplating yet another fracture in the space-time continuum.
"No, you're not," Gwen said, letting herself in anyway.
"I could have been in the middle of some very delicate negotiations, you know."
"You're not delicate. And you're louder." She sat herself heavily in a chair. "What was that all about? You looked like you saw a ghost. Did you?"
There was no point in lying, at least on that account. "In my memory, she died. Badly."
"Then you should be glad that you're wrong. She's nice. We were talking about babies. She's got a little one at home, not two months old. Two older kids, too."
"They can't be very old."
"She didn't say. Her husband stays home with them. It's very modern." She pursed her lips. "Don't get that look. Just because you remember life before formula doesn't mean the rest of us have to live that way. Mams can work too."
"I know," he said, but his thoughts were distant now, trying to picture Ianto as a stay-at-home daddy, and it was far too easy. He'd have an exact way to measure out formula, and he'd iron the cloth diapers while giving the children pointed lectures about how proper potty training was in everyone's best interests.
"I'd love for Rhys to stay home with the baby," Gwen said. "He hates admitting it, but he loves cooking and cleaning and arranging time with people. But he likes his job, too."
"When the siren call of haulage beckons, who can resist?"
"You be nice. And that means to that Lisa, too. She likes you." Oh good.
"I'm always nice. I just don't think we'll be seeing much of each other." He tapped his head. "Too weird, seeing someone as a corpse when you look at them."
"Bloody Retcon." Gwen shivered. "Any of the rest of us dead in that brain of yours?"
He sat back. "Don't ask me. Not today."
When she was gone, he called Martha. As soon as she answered, he said, "I need your phone."
"And hello to you, too. You can't have it."
"Why?"
"'Cos I just called him for something and he's busy. He said someone's bollixed up the twenty-third century and he's fixing the timeline."
"Really?" And right after, "He said 'bollixed'?"
"Not a direct quote. I'll let you know when I get through again."
"Thanks, Martha."
***
They had to borrow the police range to recertify Jack on the weapons. The SUV they drove on the way over was different than the one he remembered. The original in this timeline had been stolen or blown up, and had been replaced with a sleek new model which didn't, he noticed, have their name stenciled on the side. Johnson parked it in the police station lot like a normal vehicle and placed a small placard in the window provided by their official liaison, PC Davidson.
"Why do we have a liaison with the police?" Jack had asked.
"Because then they don't make fun of us when we screw up, and sometimes they're useful," Gwen had replied.
Jack hadn't anticipated Mickey taking the lead on the weapons testing.
"Now this one, you have to wait for it to recharge five seconds between blasts. Packs a punch, but have a backup." Jack hadn't fired this particular gun before, and was surprised at the recoil, but more surprised at the small smoking cinders left of the target.
"Where'd we get this?"
"I showed you how to make it," said Mickey. "With a little trial and error."
"Nice." He sighted it in again. Mickey had clocked in time as one of the leaders of the resistance to the Cybermen in an alternate universe. It was one thing to know that, though, and another to watch the man be smoothly competent with an array of weapons that, when they first met, Jack would have sworn Mickey'd use to blow off his own ear first by accident.
Johnson let him use his Webley to hit the targets, then took over on the pistols. Jack had to disassemble, reassemble, load and fire each one in under twenty seconds. He made it, but he was close.
"You're done," she said as the last echo died away. "Welcome back to active duty, Captain."
"Thanks," he said, and holstered his own gun.
"Time to go hunting," Mickey said, his hand on his ear. "Weevils sighted downtown."
"Let’s go," said Jack.
The rapport was interesting between Johnson and Mickey. Mickey was always there with a joke, a comment, something to relieve the tension, even as he subdued something that was more teeth than brains. Johnson didn't say much, keeping her eyes on the targets, playing tactical games to encircle their quarry, her economy of movement meaning she'd take them out with one blow. She also liked shooting them a little too much even for Jack's tastes.
As she had her pistol at the head of the last one, Jack had to stop her. "We take them back."
"Our holding cells will be full."
"Then we have an overcrowded prison. Leave it."
She glared at him, but put away her weapon. He was in charge, no matter how much she resented it. Very good to know.
***
He didn't sleep that night. He tried, but kept flashing on Lisa's death, or at least the death of the thing she'd become. Too hard to sleep when the words "You're the biggest monster of all" followed him inside his head, too tired to work when most of him wanted to get as far away from Cardiff as his legs and a credit card could take him.
He went to the café very early for coffee, and figured if he didn't eat lunch there and only ever went out the back ways, he might not have to run into Lisa often, and that was fine with him.
The morning was filled with Rift activity. Jack, Mickey and Johnson investigated a strange spike in immigration numbers Tosh had found, and tracked down a small but growing group of non-terrestrial humans who were using the Rift as their personal transport out of the lousy situation they were in five centuries from now.
Johnson suggested shooting them. Gwen suggested, over the comm, shoving them back into the Rift. Lois found a deserted island where they could live and uploaded the specs to the SUV. Jack said to their leader, "Look, you can emigrate to the future. You come here, and you'll mess up the past, and we can't let you do that."
The future humans decided on the island option, and Jack told Johnson she could shoot anyone who left it.
They got lunch out.
Back at the Hub, Jack was finishing up his report when Lois buzzed him. "Visitor to see you."
"I don't get visitors here."
"Come in through the hallway rather than the Hub."
Mystified, Jack went out the back and came into the H3 office through the main door.
"Lisa Jones. Twice in two days. People will talk."
She looked at Lois. "Thanks for paging him. You really have everyone in the building on your system?"
Lois beamed. "Just part of our dynamic innovation."
"Can I have a moment, Captain?" Lisa waited. "Perhaps back at your office?" She indicated the outer door, and Jack realised she thought he worked out of the cruise office. He'd be happy to go there, if he knew where it was.
"How about I buy you a coffee?"
"That'd be lovely."
She picked a table in the corner far away from the other handful of people in the café, and thanked him as he handed her the coffee. She took a sip and politely tried not to make a face.
"I've had better, too," he said.
"So. Captain Jack Harkness, hm?"
"That's me, reputation fully earned."
"Yvonne used to take your name in vain regularly, you know."
He laughed uneasily. "I'll bet. She hated my guts."
"Did you hate hers?"
"Never hate the incompetent. Not worth the effort." He took a long drink. "What else do you know?"
"If you're here, Three's here. Lois and Gwen?"
"You know better than to ask me the identities of my people."
"Not when you're paling around with them. Is that Mickey bloke one of you, or does he run the gay cruises you're pretending to operate?"
"You really need to stop asking questions. I'd hate to have to Retcon you. Bad for your milk supply. Trust me."
Lisa frowned. "I've still got my clearances. We weren't technically Torchwood in Paris, but we had our own work."
"Writing up reports on the French isn't Torchwood work."
"Fighting the mutant rats in the sewers was."
"Rats. Really."
"Two metres long with a chitinous exoskeleton. You ever try fighting off one of those with a baby in a Snugli and a stun gun with a low battery? I don't think."
"You took your baby into the sewers?"
"When our Callie was first born. We did our job. Had to. Anyway, I wasn't letting my husband go up against those things without me, and he wasn't going to let me go in without him."
Jack kept silent, not least because he remembered the times Lucia had taken Alice on a mission, and had left her in the car while bullseyeing a Weevil. She'd only objected when Jack did it, too.
"And that's not even mentioning the gargoyles. Those statues at Notre Dame aren't made up. They were supposed to be reminders."
"There are gargoyles in Paris?"
"Three tribes. They fight constantly. The Notre Dame lot are vicious." Lisa downed the rest of her coffee. "All I'm saying is, you can trust me. I know who you are, I know what you do. I can help."
"We're not hiring," he said, standing.
"I wasn't asking for a job. Just offering help."
"Forget about it," he said, not wanting to be harsh but certainly not wanting her to get the faintest idea that she might be welcome. "Forget about Torchwood. You don't work there anymore. Enjoy your life. It was bought dear."
He turned and walked away from her.
***
He could still Retcon her. Make her forget she saw him, poke a few convenient holes in her memory, rewrite her personal history to have a nice, big hole where Torchwood Three was concerned.
Gwen would probably object to this idea.
Jack sat at his desk contemplating the future. Would it be possible to remove Lisa's memories of his name? How often could Yvonne have yelled at him in absentia? He counted, just to amuse himself, and stopped when he got to the double digits. Honestly, he'd sent her some reports just to piss her off, so it shouldn't have been surprising.
Torchwood had been founded to thwart alien threats, including the threat Queen Victoria had thought the Doctor posed. Yvonne and her predecessors --- some more so, some less --- believed that Jack, as a Torchwood operative, should have been rather more forthcoming on details about their blue-boxed goal. They interviewed known companions of the Doctor, usually in secret, but Jack was proud to note that none of them talked more than to sing his praises, even the handful who ended up employed by the Institute trying to change things from the inside. He upheld that tradition, no matter how angry and upset he was at the Doctor.
Father figure? Idealised mate? Whatever. Jack would give a lot to be able to go back to traveling with the Doctor and Rose, to recapture that particular magic, but he hadn't waited over a century for the Doctor to come back out of some romantic or infantile dream.
Jack loved the Doctor because he was the Doctor. They all did. Even Mickey, though he had sadly been caught in that antiquated "one true love at a time" mindset, and had gotten the short end of the stick when the Doctor was around. There was less "the Doctor is the bees knees" and more "the Doctor stole my girlfriend." Mickey hadn't been there to interview after his trip with the Doctor, so he hadn't had the opportunity to tell Yvonne to piss off until after she was dead.
Jack pitied her, and that was all.
Lisa had known Yvonne, or more likely, had been subject to many of Yvonne's public rants on the topic of Why Captain Jack Harkness Is a Horse's Arse With Poor Personal Hygiene and Suspect Parentage. Editing her memories would be difficult without going all the way back to before her days at One.
He thought about Mickey again. Was Jack, and he hesitated to even put words around this thought, jealous of Lisa? Was that why he was sitting here in a dim room wondering how much of her past to delete?
He'd saved her life. The Doctor would have saved Ianto with or without her, but Jack had asked him for Lisa too and he'd said yes. That made her Jack's responsibility, his care. He had to protect her, from himself if necessary.
Somehow.
***
Thursday morning, he went out for coffee and brought it back for everyone. Lois wasn't the only one who could anticipate everyone's needs, and anyway, it got him out of the office for a while. He really ought to have someone show him his flat. It was possible though unlikely he had a potted plant or a cat or something that needed tending, but more, he needed to be somewhere that didn't constantly remind him of the people and things he'd lost.
After breakfast, the street team took Lois out for some on-the-job training. They cleaned out a nest of small dinosaurs Gwen directed them towards, which the readout called "procompsognathus" but Mickey kept referring to as "compys"; Jack pictured him as that kid who at the age of five could remember the name of every known dinosaur but regularly forgot his chores and where he put his lunch money.
As they rounded up the last few, Jack told Lois, "Dinosaurs are more common time-travelers than more people think. They had more than one hundred thousand years to fall though cracks in space-time. But for whatever reason, most of them travel to the time of other dinosaurs. The paleontologists hate when that happens."
"Sometimes we send 'em back through ourselves," said Mickey. "When the Rift conditions are right."
"Yeah," said Jack. "That urban legend about the T-Rex skeleton wearing a wristwatch, the one they keep secretly in the basement of the British Museum?" Lois nodded, wide-eyed. "My watch."
Johnson said, "You're joking."
"I'll take you there sometime. My initials are engraved on the back. The head of Torchwood London at the time was livid."
Jack purposefully kept them out through lunch, though he let Mickey talk him into going back when he pointed out that Tosh was going to need reminding. "She never goes to that cafeteria. Some idiot architect thought it would be more posh with stairs."
Jack hadn't noticed the stairs. He'd never had to. "Mickey, how good are you with a hammer?"
"Better'n most."
"Liar," Johnson said. "You're going to build her a ramp?"
"Why not?" Jack said. "Do a good deed, make sure my people aren't left out of the local café. Sounds like an afternoon."
"She won't use it," she predicted, and said nothing more on the ride back as Lois took the opportunity to look up local and national laws on accessibility.
Tosh hadn't eaten, did manage a thank you to Mickey as, unasked, he brought her a cobb salad. ("Thursday special," he'd told Jack. "She likes to pretend she's dieting on Thursdays.") When Jack pestered Gwen, quietly, why she hadn't offered to get Tosh anything, she said she always offered, and Tosh always refused. "Honestly, I think Mickey just does it anyway so she won't have an excuse to say no."
"That's one reason." He perched on the edge of her desk and started playing with the papers there until she swatted his hands away.
"I sat with that Lisa today."
"How nice."
"Did you know her husband brings the baby to her at work every day so she can feed the poor dear?"
"I didn't need to know it, no."
"Their eldest is in nursery school, so he brings this double pram with the other two, neat as you please. Has to wait at the top of the stairs, though."
"Mickey and I were talking about that. We're putting in a ramp."
"That'll be good. Tosh will like it."
"I hope."
"So, about Lisa … "
"Why are we still talking about Lisa? I'm glad you have a friend to talk babies with, but my youngest is in her thirties."
"She's Torchwood. So's her husband."
"She told you that?" He rubbed his face with his hand. "Her husband's not. He got fired his first day. She got tossed too."
"Reassigned, both of them. To a satellite office in Paris. It was how they met. Can you imagine?"
"Do you like France? I love France! Had a wonderful time there in the eighteenth century. Lovely place, France." The Doctor is in a manic phase again, which doesn't spread all the way to his eyes.
"Not really my kind of place."
The Doctor tells someone on the phone: "Transfer him to France. No, I don't care how."
And Jack knows Ianto shouldn't go there alone.
"Please tell me you didn't start sharing top-secret information with some woman you barely know over lunch."
"She asked me if I worked with you, and I gave her the cover story: work in the same building, get to know people, you do the cruises, and so on. Then she said she knew your name from her other job, from a while back, and that she thought some more people here might be working with you."
"So you spilled everything."
"Not everything! I'm not daft. But she knows enough, and so does that man of hers. Ianto, his name is. We got to talking properly after Brenda went back to the office."
"Did she tell you about the rats?"
"While he was wearing the Snugli and had the stun gun out while she was getting the explosives ready? Yeah."
That was a mental image he wasn't getting rid of anytime soon. "Gwen, we've met people from London before. There were twenty-seven survivors out of over eight hundred."
"Twenty-six."
"All shell-shocked and all badly trained by people who forgot what the job was supposed to be. We don't need their leftovers."
"They weren't in London when One went down. They've got the training, well, she does and he picked his up on the job. Jack, we need more people."
"No, we don't," he said, rising from his perch. "We've got six good people. That's more than we've had in years."
"We've had six ever since Emma joined," she said. "But you don't remember her."
He closed his mouth, didn't reply. She'd actually shot him for sleeping with someone he barely remembered?
"I'm going to be going on leave soon. I'll be back, but I'd feel better having more people here. It's easier going when we've got more."
"This isn't supposed to be an easy job. And it's not a job for people with kids. People die here."
Gwen pouted at him, and he tried not to let his eyes dart to where she'd already made room for the crib. "It doesn't have to be. You haven't even met her husband yet. He's a sweetheart."
"What would you do to have him back? To have them both back?"
Jack closes his eyes. "Anything."
"Drop it, Gwen. We're not taking them on. Final word. If I have to stuff them both so full of Retcon they don't remember their own names and ship them to Australia myself, I will. No new hires."
And he left before she could read his eyes.
Mickey was in fact useless with a hammer, but he could man a screwdriver, and Johnson swiped the hammer from Jack and did the nails herself. It took the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, and the manager of the café came out twice to complain about the mess and the noise until Lois handed him the printouts of his compliance violations re: accessibility, with a sweet smile and her finger hovered over the "Talk" button on her mobile to call the Assessor.
Jack had already liked Lois. He was starting to develop a healthy fear of her.
Taking Gwen's advice, they didn't mention the project to Tosh, or take her over to show off after they'd finished. She'd be embarrassed, and even a bit angry with them, and Jack, who'd done more than his share of hurting her pride in the past, didn't intend to do it again.
Instead, when they broke for dinner, he purposefully held back on drinks, and without looking at her, asked Tosh to go get him some coffee, going on with his report. She waited, staring at him. "Hurry up, will you?" he said.
He couldn't hear what she muttered, but she went out. Several minutes later, she came back to the office and thumped down his coffee beside him. "It's black. You can get your own mixins yourself."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
And nothing more was said about it.
***
Thursday night, Jack risked going back to his own flat. He had spare keys in his desk, and he glanced at his own employment record to get the address. Home, sweet random place to live this week.
He walked. It wasn't far.
When he unlocked the door, he wasn't sure what to expect. Surely if he had someone waiting for him at home, Gwen or someone would have mentioned it by now. No one was there. Good start. He flicked on the light, saw a small room with what was no doubt a rented couch, a stereo system but no television, a handful of CDs ranging from the 1930s through about 1970, a two burner stove, a sink with dishes mouldering in it, and in his fridge, an open carton of milk one day past its prime. His bedroom was small, though the bed was nicely big and rumpled. In the shower stall, he found his favorite soap, and a straight razor lay by the tiny sink. No plants, no cats, no photos, nothing to indicate who he was other than another tenant in a flat that had seen many men before and would see many more long after he moved out.
All his stuff, such as it had been, had been destroyed. Alice would have copies of some pictures: herself as a small child, Lucia, Steven. The handful of Steven's drawings he'd kept safely locked away had burned. Alice would have more, but they'd be more precious than gold to her now.
Damn. He'd thought he might drop those memories, that guilt, back at the Hub, but they'd followed him home. He supposed they always would.
He showered, then stretched out naked on his own bed.
Had this afternoon's work just been penance for his conscience? Try to help Tosh, sure, but it was really about not having to think for a few hours. Not much different from the sex, then, with that man with the gorgeous vermillion eyes and four hands last week (if such a phrase as "last week" could apply to the places he'd been lately) or that woman with the diamond hair before him. Just something to mark the time and forget the past, because time was all he had and his past just kept growing behind him like the shadow of a monstrous beast.
Sleep didn't happen Thursday night.
***
When Tosh came in, Jack pulled her aside. "I have a side project for you."
"Sure."
"I'd like you to go back through the Rift activity records for the week and see if you notice any patterns. Focus on spikes around noon to oneish. Keep tracking that for now. And Tosh, this is for me, not Gwen."
"I'll see what I can find," she said with a sigh. Tosh was bad with secrets.
Friday morning was payroll morning. One of Jack's biweekly jobs was to annoy and badger and finally order everyone to complete their timesheets so he could approve them and submit the packet to whoever it was at the Palace who rubberstamped and sent them back. That process took two weeks itself, and anyway, they were all on salary except for expenses, which were handled separately via some Byzantine process Lois was working on streamlining. So when Jack hit "Approve" on the last timesheet, the paycheques had usually just arrived by courier.
In theory, they were supposed to be mailed home. The Crown had heard about direct deposit and wanted nothing to do with it. Jack grabbed the stack and wandered out to the office, as he had since it had started to be his job back in 2000.
"Gwen Cooper!" he bellowed. "A note of thanks from the Queen!" He read her address quickly and handed her the cheque with a flourish. So they had bought that same house. He was glad, in a way. He'd liked the look of the place, even if a part of him would always wonder why Gwen had chosen as she did.
"Mickey Smith! A note of thanks from the Queen!" Mickey lived around the corner from Jack. Useful.
Mickey grabbed his cheque. "The Queen and me go way back," he said. "You can tell her from me she's welcome."
"Lois Habiba! A note of thanks from the Queen!"
Lois smiled and slipped it into her purse. Lois lived in a nice neighbourhood, new developments going in, lots of young people.
"Toshiko Sato! A note of thanks from the Queen!" Tosh had kept her flat.
"You don't have to do that every time, you know. Gwen never does when it's her turn."
"Gwen doesn't have my sense of theatrics."
"And we're glad," said Mickey.
Jack grabbed the next cheque, read the name and address, and stopped.
"Johnson?"
"What, no thanks from the Queen?"
Jack flipped the cheque over, showing her the address. "I know this address."
"Coffee break!" said Gwen. "On me. Everyone. Now."
Tosh, Gwen and Lois made for the door. Mickey stood back. "I want to watch this." Gwen grabbed one arm, Lois the other, and they forced him out.
Jack stood there watching Johnson.
"You should," she said. "Your cash bought the place."
"They all knew. They all knew that I didn't know. Why didn't someone tell me?"
"When you found out before, you threatened to throw me into a black hole in someone's attic in Ealing."
"It's a standard threat. Ask Joe."
"You threatened to blow off his kneecaps and balls, then you bought him a beer. He still thinks you're Alice's brother."
"He didn't need to know." Jack hadn't trusted him, even back then. Sometimes he hated being right about people. "You?"
"I already knew." She sighed. "This is Torchwood. We can't even do 'shagging the boss's daughter' normally, can we?"
"No."
There's always a resistance, always an underground. Not many rumours reach them up on the Valiant, but Tish tells him the little she hears. Leo Jones is never captured, never killed, and Jack is certain he and his family are being kept somewhere safe. Five months into their not even remotely private hell, one of the Master's best construction centers is blown sky high in a job that has Lucia's signature written all over it. Jack spends the next several agonising days refusing to tell the Master why he's smiling in paternal pride.
"Come on," Johnson said, and she took his hand. Their private lift went all the way to the roof. She stepped out, and went to the ledge. He followed. "You think better on rooftops."
"So?"
"So I'd prefer your brain be working at peak capacity before you go off."
"I'm not upset. I'm confused."
"About what? Your daughter is genetically the least likely woman in Great Britain to be straight."
"Not that. I don't want to ask, 'Why you?' but … "
"Why me?" He nodded. "We just clicked. You know. After."
He swallowed. Alice was human. And he'd broken her heart. Of course she'd looked for some kind of comfort. Her mother was dead, her father was a monster. It made sense, even a crazier kind of sense knowing that Johnson had killed Jack several times. The little sleep he got at night was often broken by the memory of his body ripping apart from the inside, or the feel of concrete choking and suffocating him.
"I'm happy for you," he managed to say, dust still on his tongue and a pain deep in his belly that wasn't caused by the memory.
"You look like someone ran over your dog."
"You think?"
"As long as we're being chatty, she says she still hates you. She doesn't spit when she says your name anymore, so there may be some progress."
"Great." The lead weight in his stomach continued to lay there.
"She also says that if you come near the house, she'd like me to shoot you. I haven't promised, but if you do, I probably will just to keep the peace. Fair warning."
"Yeah." But he wouldn't go near her place, not ever again. It was too much, and he'd done too much wrong. "If it means anything to you, you've got my blessing."
"It doesn't. But thank you anyway." She pulled out a hip flask, impressive since her clothes had appeared skin tight. She took a swig and then offered it to him.
Jack took a long pull. It burned all the way down.
***
He went to lunch well after the others were back. Tosh had gotten her own, for once, with only a little prodding from Gwen, though she took it back to the Hub. Mickey, who'd been going to sit with the others, made an excuse and brought his back too. Subtlety wasn't his best trait. Jack made a reason to stay in his office until he heard Gwen's voice, and mentally counted out another half hour just in case.
As Jack sat in the cafeteria, the doors across the way opened, and a far too familiar face wedged his way through with a double pram. Jack dropped his fork, then darted his head looking for another exit. The fire exit was behind him, but would sound an alarm.
The pram made its way down the brand new ramp. Lisa was nowhere to be seen, but would no doubt meet them soon. Of course they had to be late today. He should've gone early with his team. He should've gone out. He should've left Wales and moved to China.
They are dancing at Gwen's wedding, and as the song changes, he whispers in Jack's ear: "I know this ... thing we have doesn't mean much to you. But you might want to pretend it does, from time to time."
Ianto scanned the room, looking for his wife. He stopped when he saw Jack, and a curious, confused expression crossed his face. Jack had to get out of there, fast.
He left his food and tray and hurried up the stairs on the far side, not making eye contact, even as Ianto said, "Wait!"
Jack ran, though he didn't have to, not with Ianto and the kids at the bottom of the ramp and a door in the way, and he went through Lois' outer office right to the lift. The roof was far enough away from everything, and he stayed there, no longer hungry, for over an hour, scanning the sky for leathery wings.
***
"I thought I only had to see you once a week." The argument hadn't worked on Lois or Gwen. It probably wouldn't work here either. He tried anyway.
"Normally you do. However, until you recover your lost memories, we should spend time trying to trigger your memory. Your Retcon drug can sometimes be overridden, you said."
"It usually can't."
"We'll try." Dr. Sheffield indicated the couch. Jack took the chair. "Tell me how your week has been."
I've seen a dozen ghosts walking around this week, including my ex-lover, who's in the building every day with his wife and kids. My daughter, who hates me for killing her son, is sleeping with one of my employees, who has a habit of killing me. I can't sleep. My job has been taken over by a committee who seems to do things better than I ever did. It's possible I'm going mad.
"Fine."
"No problems with your team? Smooth transition back?"
"Yes."
"I see."
"How long do we have to talk?"
"Until your hour is done. We can talk about something other than work, if you'd like."
"Okay."
The doctor flipped a page of his notes. "We haven't talked about your sex addiction in a while."
"I don't have a sex addiction!"
"Really?" Dr. Sheffield read from his paper: "You've had sex with members of thirty-seven different species, including five cats."
"The cats were sentient."
"So you said. To continue, you have had sex with more humans than you yourself could count, although you blame alcohol and narcotics for your lack of some memories, four robots, and a blue police box."
Jack blinked. "I told you I had sex with the TARDIS?"
"About three hundred metres from this spot, you said. Is that bringing back any memories?"
"Yeah, but I'm not sharing them." The Doctor had taken the Mayor of Cardiff out for her last supper, Rose and Mickey had gone off, presumably to shag, and Jack had been alone with the single most advanced piece of artificial intelligence ever constructed. The TARDIS may have given its heart entirely to the Doctor, but it, and Rose, had loved Jack enough to make the mistake of giving him eternal life.
"You mentioned there was sex rehab available in the 51st century."
"It's overrated."
"You know it's not healthy to respond to everything by shooting at or sleeping with it."
"Served me well so far."
***
Jack woke from his half-doze, the best he could do these days, and kissed the bare shoulder that lay resting right by his lips. The shoulder moved.
"And that," said Dr. Sheffield --- Jack probably ought to call him Peter now --- "was an example of an inappropriate use of sex as a coping mechanism."
"Mine or yours?"
"Doesn’t matter. Give me a bit more blanket, will you?" Jack gave him more blanket, taking the chance to kiss him again. They'd made it to the spare sleeping quarters. His own place would have been far better suited, and if they continued, he'd suggest pulling on clothes long enough to get there.
Peter broke off the kiss. "This severely undercuts my ability to be your therapist in the future. I won't be able to keep my detachment." He kissed Jack back thoughtfully. "Also, it shoots my credibility straight to hell. I could be brought up on charges with the board."
A few pleasant minutes later, Jack said, "I could arrange for you to forget the last twelve hours."
"That'd be a pity," he said, voice thready from what Jack's hands and mouth were doing. "Still, it's for the greater good. I'm honestly the best person to keep working with your team and I'd hate to have to end that."
"Mm hm."
"Maybe we could wait another hour."
"Mm hm."
***
Jack waited until Peter woke from his Retcon-induced nap to tell him about the mild concussion he'd suffered tripping over the cables in the Hub. He called a cab, told him to stay awake for a bit, and resisted the urge to kiss him goodnight. No use breaking the amnesia that quickly.
He went back inside, but it was too quiet and he was wide awake. He went to the basement and checked on their prisoners: food, water, and for some reason, soaps. Their new holding facility had a television screen tuned to a satellite channel showing soap operas twenty-four hours a day. The Weevils would sit quietly in their cells watching the romantic misadventures of beautiful people in imaginary towns all day and all night, and be perfectly tame except during the commercial breaks. Gwen said Emma had figured it out, and she'd gotten that same clouded look she always did when talking about Emma.
"Good job, Cowell," Jack said quietly, as he closed and locked the door behind himself. The Weevils didn't stir.
Their basement, at least the part where their private lift went, connected to some of the older tunnels from beneath the Hub. Most of the sub-basements had collapsed, but a few had survived worse earthquakes than even the bomb in Jack's gut could have provided. Some of their archives were intact, if now hopelessly incomplete. He spent some time looking through files from the 1920s, waxing nostalgic as he read the names of friends and coworkers long dead.
In Jack's original timeline, he'd made Ianto and the archivists before him scan everything to digital whenever they'd had down time, or when he was angry with them. Ianto had done a lot of scanning after the death of the Cyberman who wasn't Lisa. He wondered if he'd punished Eugene the same way, if they'd preserved their records here. He'd hate to be the only repository of memory regarding the good people who'd worked in Torchwood Three over the last century.
Hours later, he dragged himself back upstairs. Time to start the day. Lois would already have brought in breakfast, they could go over the events for the day, he could take her out again to show her more of the ropes, and …
"Tosh. Where is everyone?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's almost eight."
"Yes?"
"In the morning. People are supposed to be here now."
"It's Saturday."
"And?"
They stared at each other, clearly speaking two different languages.
"Today is Saturday," Tosh said slowly. "It's called a 'week-end.'"
"So?"
"Everything is being monitored, everyone has a comm ready if we need them for an emergency."
"You're here."
"Well, someone handed me an extra project yesterday, didn't he? Anyway, I like it here on the weekends. I can get more done."
He leaned up against the rack holding her computer. "Really?"
"Really." She reset her glasses, an action he'd always found adorable. "Anyway, Gwen and I are the only ones left from the old days. She needs her rest. I can stay here, keep an eye on things. The others don't have to, though they drop in during the day if they're around."
"So we have a day off?" He rolled the idea around in his head.
"If we want. Sundays too, though to be frank, I've never seen a week go by yet without something popping up to bring us back in anyway. We still have to apply for permission to be out of range for more than overnight."
"Good."
"Speaking of overnight." Her lips twitched, hiding a grin.
"Ah. I took care of that."
"What'd you put as the reason on the Retcon log? 'Bad shag?'"
"I'm offended. It was a fantastic shag. I put that Dr. Sheffield," it was hard to call him that again but Jack would adjust, "saw something he shouldn't have."
"Honest, but non-descriptive."
"I could get more descriptive."
"Please don't," she said, putting up a hand. "I think we've all seen you naked at least once. Some of us would prefer not to do so again."
"You’re missing out."
"I'll live with that."
***
The café had minimal service on weekends, so Jack brought back burgers for the two of them, after having confirmed with Tosh that the place he was going didn't freak her out in a "going to get Hepatitis" sort of way.
He considered running a fake alert to drill the team and check their response time. "Don't cry wolf," Tosh said, watching him type in a few scenarios and delete them.
"Can I cry Bad Wolf?"
"No. If you're bored, go for a walk. Or go find a date."
"About that. No one's mentioned, and again, bad memory. Am I seeing someone?"
She paused, and got a pained look on her face. Grief? No, exasperation. "You're always seeing someone. Several someones if you can arrange it. Nothing serious, if that's what you mean."
"No one on the team."
"Not currently. I think you set your sights on Lois until she started quoting the life expectancies of your previous conquests."
"That's cold." Anyway, surely Estelle and Lucia would have raised that average several years. But then, anything after their split-ups might not have counted.
"You use people up, Jack," Lucia says, folding their daughter's tiny clothes to pack them. Jack has been practising their new names but they feel wrong in his mouth. "You're like a fire, consuming as you go. It's too much for one person."
She says much more, and so does he, and then they're both shouting, and for once the shouting doesn't lead to sex. That comes later, after he helps them settle into the new house, and she says she forgives him, but he doesn't believe her.
"I wasn't there," Tosh said. "Mickey said it was pretty funny. Did you really sleep with his girlfriend?"
"I wouldn't say much sleep was involved."
She rolled her eyes. Definitely exasperation.
***
Around six, Tosh intercepted a police report about a run-in with unusual-looking gang members. Jack was about to sound the alarm, but Tosh batted his hand away and dialed a number.
"Andy?"
"Hi, Tosh," said PC Andy's voice over the speaker. "Heard that, didja?"
"Do we need to come in on this?"
"I'll keep an eye open. I think this lot is just wearing masks."
"Again?"
"It’s the new thing. Make the cops think you're an alien."
"Idiots."
"I'll call you if there's a prob."
"Thanks, Andy."
She disconnected, sat back and smiled at Jack. "Now wouldn't you have felt silly showing up guns blazing over a bunch of hoodlums in rubber masks?"
"No. We should go make sure."
"Andy'll keep us updated. It's his job."
Jack grumbled, but went back to his office.
***
Around ten, he noticed he'd been reading the archives for much longer than he'd intended. Some of their records had made it online and had been preserved off-site, and he was looking for gaps.
There was a polite cough at the door. "Toshiko. I thought you'd gone home already."
"I'm about to. But I wanted to let you know about the status of one of my projects."
"Did you see the Rift spikes?"
"No. I'll keep watching, but activity looks normal around that time of day."
He wasn't sure if that was good news or bad news. If there was going to be an instability, surely it would show up in the Rift first, and it ought to be trembling every time Ianto was in the building. "Check two o'clock yesterday."
"There's nothing, Jack."
"Fine. Thanks. You can go home."
"That wasn't the project I meant."
She came the rest of the way in, settling across from him. The dim light of his lamp --- he hated the overhead fluorescents --- shone golden on her face, making her look older. "I've been looking into who might have Retconned you. I checked all the records, all the CCTV files, nothing. Then I tried to do it the proper way. Who had the means, motive, opportunity. Since all of our supply is spoken for, that means either we had some lost during the loss of the Hub, or someone's manufacturing more. But not only is the formula proprietary, the ingredients are highly selective and of alien origin.
"They'd have to be making it in such a quantity to have wiped your brain for such a long time, and of a quality that it didn't kill you, though obviously that's not a limiting factor, or scramble your brain. There's only person who could have done that."
"Me."
"You."
He sat back in his chair. She wasn't accusing him. She was certain.
"I wasn't Retconned."
"Why have you been lying to us? What are you trying to pull?" Tosh was angry now. She held her voice firm, but he could hear the tones behind them. "You pretended … "
"I didn't pretend. I honestly don't know what's happened the last three or four years. Not here."
"Jack … "
"I changed time." Horror crossed her face. "The Doctor changed time. For me." He shook his head. "Not for me. For someone he actually loved." That sounded petulant even in his own ears. The Doctor had proven how much he loved Jack, fighting for him when Jack had given up on himself. "I just helped."
"Oh my God."
"This is not the world I remember. People died in my timeline who are alive now. People lived in my timeline who died here."
He knew she would ask before she said, "Owen?"
"He died in mine, too. So did you."
"Oh." She closed her eyes. "You brought me back. Like this."
"Different things were set in motion. One thread out of place, everything didn't unravel, but it made another pattern."
"Meaning?"
"You were standing in a different place when Gray shot you. Martha wasn't working with us in my timeline. She saved you here."
"She shouldn't have." A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away absently.
"I'm glad she did." He leaned forward to take her hand, rub it tenderly. "I missed you."
"I'd think you of all people would understand," she said. "You're the one who always has to go on, survive the people you love. Don't you wish you could just stop?"
"All the time."
"That's why you changed things, isn’t it? For someone you loved? Because you couldn't deal with saying goodbye."
"It wasn't exactly like that. But yes." He sighed. "The Doctor did me a favor, gave me a gift. Ten more minutes with the people I most needed to say goodbye to. I said goodbye to you. Do you remember me stopping by your place with flowers out of the blue one night? Lilies, I think they were." She nodded. "I'm glad. I'm glad that happened here."
"Did you say goodbye to Owen?"
"Yeah."
"Good. And your … friend?"
"His mother knew the Doctor a long time ago. She asked him … She didn't know what she was asking him."
"And now everything is changed."
"Some things. Not everything. I didn't think about it at the time. The Doctor must have, but I was barely thinking. Too much grief." He spread a smile that had no humour on his face. "You know, I could really use a drink."
"I wouldn't mind one. It's not every day I toast coming back from the dead."
Jack rattled up two glasses and half a bottle of whisky from where he'd spied it in his desk. Dr. Sheffield wouldn't like to hear about that, so Jack wouldn't tell him.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
Tosh coughed around her drink. "You drink this?"
"Apparently."
"So," she said, setting the glass down beside her. "You changed time. The Doctor did, anyway. Isn’t that forbidden?"
"It can be done. Hell, he does it all the time, really. Any time he picks up someone and drops them off somewhere or sometime they don't belong, he changes time. Whenever he shows up with alien tech and changes what would otherwise have happened, he changes time."
"You said the penalty for that is bad."
"If it's done wrong, winged monsters come and eat reality. I'd call that bad."
"And yet you did it anyway."
"Did I mention I wasn't thinking well at the time?"
"That's why you're having me monitor the Rift. Looking for monsters?"
"Basically."
"At lunchtime?"
He took a swallow. "I have reason to believe lunch is a particularly unstable time in Cardiff, yes."
"Why?"
"I can't say."
"You already said. You broke the rules of time and space for some man you were shagging. Yes?"
"Maybe."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"So why are the monsters so interested in your lunch habits?"
"Because. The person I changed time for comes to the cafeteria every day to have lunch with his wife, who works on the second floor. The Doctor saved him, and I asked for her life too because I'm an idiot."
"You're a romantic."
"Same thing. Anyway, I had my ten minutes. Six hundred seconds. All gone now. All spent. I don't get more time with him, not to say hi, not to introduce myself since he'll have no idea who I am anyway, not to tell him how crazy I've been since I lost him or how much he meant to me, not anything. And if I try, hell, if I bump into him by accident as he's bringing the kids over, the monsters come, and everything shatters, and if I am very, very lucky, all that means is that the timeline resets and I lose him, and you, and everything all over again. But I'm not very lucky, and I think it will be much worse."
Tosh played with her glass, then took a long, gulping drink. "So that's all, then. End of the world. I thought it would be something serious."
"Don't play."
She smirked. "You're an idiot."
"Thanks."
"No, I mean it. You're a complete moron."
"Tell me how you really feel, Tosh," he said, folding his arms uncomfortably.
"Let me get this clear. You had this boyfriend and he died and you had your ten minutes from the Doctor to say goodbye and then you changed time a bit so he never died."
"Something like that."
"And now you think flying monsters will attack us all if you say hello."
"That's how it works, yes."
"Because you already said goodbye, and the Doctor said you only had ten minutes."
"Yeah."
"How long have you and I been talking in this room?"
Instinct made Jack look at his watch before he caught on. "You."
"You said goodbye to me. And here I am. No monsters."
"I could kiss you."
"Please do. I haven't had a good snog in a while." He walked around the desk and kissed her solidly. "Mmm. Nice."
"I could be nicer."
"Don't ruin the moment."
"Okay." He sat back down, but his mind was already miles away.
"The world doesn't revolve around you, Jack Harkness. Only you would have the massive ego to think it did."
"It was a valid fear! This has happened before." Lecture after lecture from the Time Agency. Rose, weeping softly into his shoulder, whispering how she held her dad as he died.
"You get a second chance. You don't have to keep moping around here like a widow."
"Neither do you."
She gasped like he'd struck her. "That's unfair."
"You're right. I get grief. I get how hard it is to move on." He took her hand again. "But you get a second chance, too, this time around."
"Some chance." She looked down at her chair. "Some days, I think I'd rather have my fate from your timeline."
"I can think of someone who'd love to change your mind."
Their eyes met. "He's a kid," she said. "A sweet kid."
"He's older than Tommy."
She flinched again. "Let it never be said you ever resisted the low blows."
"Sorry. I'm not playing yenta. Your life is yours to work out. I'm just pointing out there's someone who seems to spend a lot of time thinking about what you want and what you'd like, and being there for you."
"Did he tell you that he carried me out of the Hub when you blew up?"
"No."
"I hated him for it. Eugene died in there. I should have died. But Mickey grabbed me up and took me out of there, and didn't expect thanks or anything. He just did it."
"That's who he is. He crossed universes to help his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend because she needed him to. Twice."
"Does anyone travel with the Doctor and not come out of it mental?"
He gave the question honest consideration, but he'd made a study of the other Wendys. "No."
"I'm not like you. I used to think I needed other people to define me. I don't anymore."
"I don't need people to define me."
"Please. Your self-worth is directly tied to the number of people you've shagged this month. You wrap your entire life around the people in this office. You broke time for someone you couldn't bear to let go. You don't have a brain, so you use me, and since you lack a conscience, you use Gwen. You are all about people."
"I need someone to act as my conscience. A companion, if you will. And I think you're the man for the job."
Jack laughs without humour. "If you think that, you're even crazier than I thought."
"Oh, I am. Have no doubt. But to show good faith, I'd like to offer you a gift. Something nice. Perhaps something that you've recently lost."
Jack's mouth goes dry.
"Gwen is not my conscience."
"Really? What about the 456, then?"
He sat back roughly. "I don't want to talk about the 456."
"I know. You're going to carry that guilt forever. Gwen at least gets to let go of hers when she dies."
Yeah. "Gwen was there?"
"Of course Gwen was there. She was the one who found that little girl. God alone knows what you'd've done if she hadn't. Actually, I take that back. We all know what you would've done."
His lips felt numb, like when he drowned. "Tosh, what little girl?"
"The girl from the children's hospital. Madeleine. She had leukemia, Gwen fed her a story about being a hero, saving the world." Tosh emptied her glass, and only then caught the shock on his face. "Jack?"
"Madeleine?"
"You were about to use another child," she said, "when Gwen came." She didn't meet his eyes. "Oh, Jack. You didn't. You didn't, really?" She drifted her gaze up hopefully.
"Alice hates me."
"Of course she hates you. You were ten seconds away from killing her son. If Gwen hadn't stopped you, you would have." She looked away. "I told myself you wouldn't have gone through with it. You would have stopped yourself."
"Alice knows me too well." He had to approach this carefully. Too much, too soon, and he was sure the universe would notice and spring back, and the least he'd have to worry about would be the monsters, but the most he could gain … "Steven's alive?"
She nodded. "I thought you knew. We all thought you knew. Lois gave you the report. You didn't read it?"
He shook his head. "I have to go. I have to see him."
"It's late, you've been drinking, and you're not welcome there."
"Don’t care." He grabbed his coat, bent over and kissed her again. "I am never going to be able to thank you enough."
"Thank me by not getting killed again. Lois has been complaining about the dry cleaner."
He took the SUV. No doubt he had a car here somewhere, but he wanted to go, to get there, and he didn't want to take the time to sort out keys he might or might not have. The radio was on, and he didn't know the songs but sang along loudly anyway. The world was a new place, his grandson was alive, it was Saturday night, and everything was going to be okay.
He parked on the street outside the house and bounded up to the front door. He knocked hard. "Alice! I need to come in!"
The house was dark, and then lights flickered on from upstairs. A dark form came down the stairs as Jack stamped on the front step. "Look, I know you're mad."
The door opened. Johnson stood there, hair mussed, in a dressing gown and not much else. Alice was walking down the stairs, rage on her face.
"I told you … "
"I have to see Steven. Just for a minute."
"Get out."
He went to push past Johnson, who refused to move. "This isn't a good time," she said in a low voice.
"I'll go again as soon as I see him. Please."
Johnson turned back to Alice, who nodded once. Johnson sighed. "Sorry." She pulled her gun and before he could move, she shot him in the head.
***
TBC
***
Part Three
Rating: PG-15
Characters: ensemble
Pairings: Yes. Many.
Spoilers: Nu!Who 'verse up through CoE, possible casting spoilers for '09 Christmas special
Warnings: extreme self-indulgence, angsty emo (mostly Jack), character death (also mostly Jack), child endangerment, mentions of torture circa The Year That Never Was, sentence fragments, and believe it or not given the other warnings, massive amounts of fluff. It is deeply twee, interspersed with moderate horror.
Beta: With greatest thanks to brinshannara for the translation and my beloved Ab for the read-through.
Author's Note: I hadn't intended to write a sequel to " Six Hundred Seconds" (and in fact suggest that anyone who enjoyed that story avoid this one). But then I looked down into the rabbit hole, and lo, the bunnies living there were so very densely fluffy that they changed the orbits of nearby stars. Title in honour of said rabbit hole and not the Who novel.
Part One
***
Part Two
***
Jack stared at the hand in front of him. Lisa, and of all the Lisas in the world this was the one he'd thought he'd never see again, had a careful smile that was already fading. Flirty Jack woke up at the sight of a beautiful woman, and after the awkward pause, he swept her hand up and kissed it.
"Captain Jack Harkness. Nice to meet you, Lisa Jones."
Her eyes opened at the name, and Bren leaned over. Jack heard: "The one I told you about."
"You run the cruise line," she said, but the delight in her voice didn't meet her eyes. She knew his name.
"Lisa just moved here from Paris," said Bren. She sighed wistfully.
"Where are you from?" Lois asked. "That's a London accent, yeah?"
Lisa nodded, her eyes still watching Jack. "My husband's from Cardiff. When I got the offer, we decided to move closer to his family."
"I should go," Jack said. "I was going to get Tosh some lunch."
"Stay!" said Bren, and scooted over. That made two spaces for Jack at a table where he had no intention of sitting. Gwen watched him curiously over her drink.
Lois cut in. "No rest for the wicked. We should be getting back too."
"Don't worry about it," Jack said too quickly, and then his savior came into the café in the unlikely guise of …
"That's where you all went!" said Mickey, his voice easily carrying over the bustle of the room.
Jack's smile came back as Mickey walked over, and he placed a friendly hand on Mickey's back. "Time to go," he said before Mickey could say hi. "Later, ladies." He kept hold of Mickey as they went back to the lunch line.
Someone said behind him, "Why are the good-looking ones always gay?"
"You have ten seconds to remove that hand."
"Not till we're out of sight."
"They've stopped watching."
"Okay, then." Jack dropped the hand.
"Under no circumstances am I ever to play your beard again, got me?" Mickey got into line and before Jack could mention, he picked up a tuna sandwich along with a roast beef. At Jack's look he said, "Toshiko likes tuna on Tuesdays."
"Good to know."
Jack went back to the office, let himself into the Hub. The third Hub. H3. He suspected Rhys' hand in the name. He went to his own office, closed the door, and rested his face in his hands.
They'd just moved. The change of address wouldn't be reflected in the systems yet unless he'd known to look. Which meant that any day, at any time, he could be walking down the street, or worse, walking down the hallway here, and the world would end suddenly with the rush of leathery wings.
Ah, dammit.
From outside, he heard Mickey come in and talk to Tosh, though he couldn't make out what they said. Johnson said something to Gwen a minute later; he must have walked right past her.
There was a tap on his door.
"Having a private moment," he said, hoping whoever it was would think he was in here jerking off instead of contemplating yet another fracture in the space-time continuum.
"No, you're not," Gwen said, letting herself in anyway.
"I could have been in the middle of some very delicate negotiations, you know."
"You're not delicate. And you're louder." She sat herself heavily in a chair. "What was that all about? You looked like you saw a ghost. Did you?"
There was no point in lying, at least on that account. "In my memory, she died. Badly."
"Then you should be glad that you're wrong. She's nice. We were talking about babies. She's got a little one at home, not two months old. Two older kids, too."
"They can't be very old."
"She didn't say. Her husband stays home with them. It's very modern." She pursed her lips. "Don't get that look. Just because you remember life before formula doesn't mean the rest of us have to live that way. Mams can work too."
"I know," he said, but his thoughts were distant now, trying to picture Ianto as a stay-at-home daddy, and it was far too easy. He'd have an exact way to measure out formula, and he'd iron the cloth diapers while giving the children pointed lectures about how proper potty training was in everyone's best interests.
"I'd love for Rhys to stay home with the baby," Gwen said. "He hates admitting it, but he loves cooking and cleaning and arranging time with people. But he likes his job, too."
"When the siren call of haulage beckons, who can resist?"
"You be nice. And that means to that Lisa, too. She likes you." Oh good.
"I'm always nice. I just don't think we'll be seeing much of each other." He tapped his head. "Too weird, seeing someone as a corpse when you look at them."
"Bloody Retcon." Gwen shivered. "Any of the rest of us dead in that brain of yours?"
He sat back. "Don't ask me. Not today."
When she was gone, he called Martha. As soon as she answered, he said, "I need your phone."
"And hello to you, too. You can't have it."
"Why?"
"'Cos I just called him for something and he's busy. He said someone's bollixed up the twenty-third century and he's fixing the timeline."
"Really?" And right after, "He said 'bollixed'?"
"Not a direct quote. I'll let you know when I get through again."
"Thanks, Martha."
***
They had to borrow the police range to recertify Jack on the weapons. The SUV they drove on the way over was different than the one he remembered. The original in this timeline had been stolen or blown up, and had been replaced with a sleek new model which didn't, he noticed, have their name stenciled on the side. Johnson parked it in the police station lot like a normal vehicle and placed a small placard in the window provided by their official liaison, PC Davidson.
"Why do we have a liaison with the police?" Jack had asked.
"Because then they don't make fun of us when we screw up, and sometimes they're useful," Gwen had replied.
Jack hadn't anticipated Mickey taking the lead on the weapons testing.
"Now this one, you have to wait for it to recharge five seconds between blasts. Packs a punch, but have a backup." Jack hadn't fired this particular gun before, and was surprised at the recoil, but more surprised at the small smoking cinders left of the target.
"Where'd we get this?"
"I showed you how to make it," said Mickey. "With a little trial and error."
"Nice." He sighted it in again. Mickey had clocked in time as one of the leaders of the resistance to the Cybermen in an alternate universe. It was one thing to know that, though, and another to watch the man be smoothly competent with an array of weapons that, when they first met, Jack would have sworn Mickey'd use to blow off his own ear first by accident.
Johnson let him use his Webley to hit the targets, then took over on the pistols. Jack had to disassemble, reassemble, load and fire each one in under twenty seconds. He made it, but he was close.
"You're done," she said as the last echo died away. "Welcome back to active duty, Captain."
"Thanks," he said, and holstered his own gun.
"Time to go hunting," Mickey said, his hand on his ear. "Weevils sighted downtown."
"Let’s go," said Jack.
The rapport was interesting between Johnson and Mickey. Mickey was always there with a joke, a comment, something to relieve the tension, even as he subdued something that was more teeth than brains. Johnson didn't say much, keeping her eyes on the targets, playing tactical games to encircle their quarry, her economy of movement meaning she'd take them out with one blow. She also liked shooting them a little too much even for Jack's tastes.
As she had her pistol at the head of the last one, Jack had to stop her. "We take them back."
"Our holding cells will be full."
"Then we have an overcrowded prison. Leave it."
She glared at him, but put away her weapon. He was in charge, no matter how much she resented it. Very good to know.
***
He didn't sleep that night. He tried, but kept flashing on Lisa's death, or at least the death of the thing she'd become. Too hard to sleep when the words "You're the biggest monster of all" followed him inside his head, too tired to work when most of him wanted to get as far away from Cardiff as his legs and a credit card could take him.
He went to the café very early for coffee, and figured if he didn't eat lunch there and only ever went out the back ways, he might not have to run into Lisa often, and that was fine with him.
The morning was filled with Rift activity. Jack, Mickey and Johnson investigated a strange spike in immigration numbers Tosh had found, and tracked down a small but growing group of non-terrestrial humans who were using the Rift as their personal transport out of the lousy situation they were in five centuries from now.
Johnson suggested shooting them. Gwen suggested, over the comm, shoving them back into the Rift. Lois found a deserted island where they could live and uploaded the specs to the SUV. Jack said to their leader, "Look, you can emigrate to the future. You come here, and you'll mess up the past, and we can't let you do that."
The future humans decided on the island option, and Jack told Johnson she could shoot anyone who left it.
They got lunch out.
Back at the Hub, Jack was finishing up his report when Lois buzzed him. "Visitor to see you."
"I don't get visitors here."
"Come in through the hallway rather than the Hub."
Mystified, Jack went out the back and came into the H3 office through the main door.
"Lisa Jones. Twice in two days. People will talk."
She looked at Lois. "Thanks for paging him. You really have everyone in the building on your system?"
Lois beamed. "Just part of our dynamic innovation."
"Can I have a moment, Captain?" Lisa waited. "Perhaps back at your office?" She indicated the outer door, and Jack realised she thought he worked out of the cruise office. He'd be happy to go there, if he knew where it was.
"How about I buy you a coffee?"
"That'd be lovely."
She picked a table in the corner far away from the other handful of people in the café, and thanked him as he handed her the coffee. She took a sip and politely tried not to make a face.
"I've had better, too," he said.
"So. Captain Jack Harkness, hm?"
"That's me, reputation fully earned."
"Yvonne used to take your name in vain regularly, you know."
He laughed uneasily. "I'll bet. She hated my guts."
"Did you hate hers?"
"Never hate the incompetent. Not worth the effort." He took a long drink. "What else do you know?"
"If you're here, Three's here. Lois and Gwen?"
"You know better than to ask me the identities of my people."
"Not when you're paling around with them. Is that Mickey bloke one of you, or does he run the gay cruises you're pretending to operate?"
"You really need to stop asking questions. I'd hate to have to Retcon you. Bad for your milk supply. Trust me."
Lisa frowned. "I've still got my clearances. We weren't technically Torchwood in Paris, but we had our own work."
"Writing up reports on the French isn't Torchwood work."
"Fighting the mutant rats in the sewers was."
"Rats. Really."
"Two metres long with a chitinous exoskeleton. You ever try fighting off one of those with a baby in a Snugli and a stun gun with a low battery? I don't think."
"You took your baby into the sewers?"
"When our Callie was first born. We did our job. Had to. Anyway, I wasn't letting my husband go up against those things without me, and he wasn't going to let me go in without him."
Jack kept silent, not least because he remembered the times Lucia had taken Alice on a mission, and had left her in the car while bullseyeing a Weevil. She'd only objected when Jack did it, too.
"And that's not even mentioning the gargoyles. Those statues at Notre Dame aren't made up. They were supposed to be reminders."
"There are gargoyles in Paris?"
"Three tribes. They fight constantly. The Notre Dame lot are vicious." Lisa downed the rest of her coffee. "All I'm saying is, you can trust me. I know who you are, I know what you do. I can help."
"We're not hiring," he said, standing.
"I wasn't asking for a job. Just offering help."
"Forget about it," he said, not wanting to be harsh but certainly not wanting her to get the faintest idea that she might be welcome. "Forget about Torchwood. You don't work there anymore. Enjoy your life. It was bought dear."
He turned and walked away from her.
***
He could still Retcon her. Make her forget she saw him, poke a few convenient holes in her memory, rewrite her personal history to have a nice, big hole where Torchwood Three was concerned.
Gwen would probably object to this idea.
Jack sat at his desk contemplating the future. Would it be possible to remove Lisa's memories of his name? How often could Yvonne have yelled at him in absentia? He counted, just to amuse himself, and stopped when he got to the double digits. Honestly, he'd sent her some reports just to piss her off, so it shouldn't have been surprising.
Torchwood had been founded to thwart alien threats, including the threat Queen Victoria had thought the Doctor posed. Yvonne and her predecessors --- some more so, some less --- believed that Jack, as a Torchwood operative, should have been rather more forthcoming on details about their blue-boxed goal. They interviewed known companions of the Doctor, usually in secret, but Jack was proud to note that none of them talked more than to sing his praises, even the handful who ended up employed by the Institute trying to change things from the inside. He upheld that tradition, no matter how angry and upset he was at the Doctor.
Father figure? Idealised mate? Whatever. Jack would give a lot to be able to go back to traveling with the Doctor and Rose, to recapture that particular magic, but he hadn't waited over a century for the Doctor to come back out of some romantic or infantile dream.
Jack loved the Doctor because he was the Doctor. They all did. Even Mickey, though he had sadly been caught in that antiquated "one true love at a time" mindset, and had gotten the short end of the stick when the Doctor was around. There was less "the Doctor is the bees knees" and more "the Doctor stole my girlfriend." Mickey hadn't been there to interview after his trip with the Doctor, so he hadn't had the opportunity to tell Yvonne to piss off until after she was dead.
Jack pitied her, and that was all.
Lisa had known Yvonne, or more likely, had been subject to many of Yvonne's public rants on the topic of Why Captain Jack Harkness Is a Horse's Arse With Poor Personal Hygiene and Suspect Parentage. Editing her memories would be difficult without going all the way back to before her days at One.
He thought about Mickey again. Was Jack, and he hesitated to even put words around this thought, jealous of Lisa? Was that why he was sitting here in a dim room wondering how much of her past to delete?
He'd saved her life. The Doctor would have saved Ianto with or without her, but Jack had asked him for Lisa too and he'd said yes. That made her Jack's responsibility, his care. He had to protect her, from himself if necessary.
Somehow.
***
Thursday morning, he went out for coffee and brought it back for everyone. Lois wasn't the only one who could anticipate everyone's needs, and anyway, it got him out of the office for a while. He really ought to have someone show him his flat. It was possible though unlikely he had a potted plant or a cat or something that needed tending, but more, he needed to be somewhere that didn't constantly remind him of the people and things he'd lost.
After breakfast, the street team took Lois out for some on-the-job training. They cleaned out a nest of small dinosaurs Gwen directed them towards, which the readout called "procompsognathus" but Mickey kept referring to as "compys"; Jack pictured him as that kid who at the age of five could remember the name of every known dinosaur but regularly forgot his chores and where he put his lunch money.
As they rounded up the last few, Jack told Lois, "Dinosaurs are more common time-travelers than more people think. They had more than one hundred thousand years to fall though cracks in space-time. But for whatever reason, most of them travel to the time of other dinosaurs. The paleontologists hate when that happens."
"Sometimes we send 'em back through ourselves," said Mickey. "When the Rift conditions are right."
"Yeah," said Jack. "That urban legend about the T-Rex skeleton wearing a wristwatch, the one they keep secretly in the basement of the British Museum?" Lois nodded, wide-eyed. "My watch."
Johnson said, "You're joking."
"I'll take you there sometime. My initials are engraved on the back. The head of Torchwood London at the time was livid."
Jack purposefully kept them out through lunch, though he let Mickey talk him into going back when he pointed out that Tosh was going to need reminding. "She never goes to that cafeteria. Some idiot architect thought it would be more posh with stairs."
Jack hadn't noticed the stairs. He'd never had to. "Mickey, how good are you with a hammer?"
"Better'n most."
"Liar," Johnson said. "You're going to build her a ramp?"
"Why not?" Jack said. "Do a good deed, make sure my people aren't left out of the local café. Sounds like an afternoon."
"She won't use it," she predicted, and said nothing more on the ride back as Lois took the opportunity to look up local and national laws on accessibility.
Tosh hadn't eaten, did manage a thank you to Mickey as, unasked, he brought her a cobb salad. ("Thursday special," he'd told Jack. "She likes to pretend she's dieting on Thursdays.") When Jack pestered Gwen, quietly, why she hadn't offered to get Tosh anything, she said she always offered, and Tosh always refused. "Honestly, I think Mickey just does it anyway so she won't have an excuse to say no."
"That's one reason." He perched on the edge of her desk and started playing with the papers there until she swatted his hands away.
"I sat with that Lisa today."
"How nice."
"Did you know her husband brings the baby to her at work every day so she can feed the poor dear?"
"I didn't need to know it, no."
"Their eldest is in nursery school, so he brings this double pram with the other two, neat as you please. Has to wait at the top of the stairs, though."
"Mickey and I were talking about that. We're putting in a ramp."
"That'll be good. Tosh will like it."
"I hope."
"So, about Lisa … "
"Why are we still talking about Lisa? I'm glad you have a friend to talk babies with, but my youngest is in her thirties."
"She's Torchwood. So's her husband."
"She told you that?" He rubbed his face with his hand. "Her husband's not. He got fired his first day. She got tossed too."
"Reassigned, both of them. To a satellite office in Paris. It was how they met. Can you imagine?"
"Do you like France? I love France! Had a wonderful time there in the eighteenth century. Lovely place, France." The Doctor is in a manic phase again, which doesn't spread all the way to his eyes.
"Not really my kind of place."
The Doctor tells someone on the phone: "Transfer him to France. No, I don't care how."
And Jack knows Ianto shouldn't go there alone.
"Please tell me you didn't start sharing top-secret information with some woman you barely know over lunch."
"She asked me if I worked with you, and I gave her the cover story: work in the same building, get to know people, you do the cruises, and so on. Then she said she knew your name from her other job, from a while back, and that she thought some more people here might be working with you."
"So you spilled everything."
"Not everything! I'm not daft. But she knows enough, and so does that man of hers. Ianto, his name is. We got to talking properly after Brenda went back to the office."
"Did she tell you about the rats?"
"While he was wearing the Snugli and had the stun gun out while she was getting the explosives ready? Yeah."
That was a mental image he wasn't getting rid of anytime soon. "Gwen, we've met people from London before. There were twenty-seven survivors out of over eight hundred."
"Twenty-six."
"All shell-shocked and all badly trained by people who forgot what the job was supposed to be. We don't need their leftovers."
"They weren't in London when One went down. They've got the training, well, she does and he picked his up on the job. Jack, we need more people."
"No, we don't," he said, rising from his perch. "We've got six good people. That's more than we've had in years."
"We've had six ever since Emma joined," she said. "But you don't remember her."
He closed his mouth, didn't reply. She'd actually shot him for sleeping with someone he barely remembered?
"I'm going to be going on leave soon. I'll be back, but I'd feel better having more people here. It's easier going when we've got more."
"This isn't supposed to be an easy job. And it's not a job for people with kids. People die here."
Gwen pouted at him, and he tried not to let his eyes dart to where she'd already made room for the crib. "It doesn't have to be. You haven't even met her husband yet. He's a sweetheart."
"What would you do to have him back? To have them both back?"
Jack closes his eyes. "Anything."
"Drop it, Gwen. We're not taking them on. Final word. If I have to stuff them both so full of Retcon they don't remember their own names and ship them to Australia myself, I will. No new hires."
And he left before she could read his eyes.
Mickey was in fact useless with a hammer, but he could man a screwdriver, and Johnson swiped the hammer from Jack and did the nails herself. It took the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, and the manager of the café came out twice to complain about the mess and the noise until Lois handed him the printouts of his compliance violations re: accessibility, with a sweet smile and her finger hovered over the "Talk" button on her mobile to call the Assessor.
Jack had already liked Lois. He was starting to develop a healthy fear of her.
Taking Gwen's advice, they didn't mention the project to Tosh, or take her over to show off after they'd finished. She'd be embarrassed, and even a bit angry with them, and Jack, who'd done more than his share of hurting her pride in the past, didn't intend to do it again.
Instead, when they broke for dinner, he purposefully held back on drinks, and without looking at her, asked Tosh to go get him some coffee, going on with his report. She waited, staring at him. "Hurry up, will you?" he said.
He couldn't hear what she muttered, but she went out. Several minutes later, she came back to the office and thumped down his coffee beside him. "It's black. You can get your own mixins yourself."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
And nothing more was said about it.
***
Thursday night, Jack risked going back to his own flat. He had spare keys in his desk, and he glanced at his own employment record to get the address. Home, sweet random place to live this week.
He walked. It wasn't far.
When he unlocked the door, he wasn't sure what to expect. Surely if he had someone waiting for him at home, Gwen or someone would have mentioned it by now. No one was there. Good start. He flicked on the light, saw a small room with what was no doubt a rented couch, a stereo system but no television, a handful of CDs ranging from the 1930s through about 1970, a two burner stove, a sink with dishes mouldering in it, and in his fridge, an open carton of milk one day past its prime. His bedroom was small, though the bed was nicely big and rumpled. In the shower stall, he found his favorite soap, and a straight razor lay by the tiny sink. No plants, no cats, no photos, nothing to indicate who he was other than another tenant in a flat that had seen many men before and would see many more long after he moved out.
All his stuff, such as it had been, had been destroyed. Alice would have copies of some pictures: herself as a small child, Lucia, Steven. The handful of Steven's drawings he'd kept safely locked away had burned. Alice would have more, but they'd be more precious than gold to her now.
Damn. He'd thought he might drop those memories, that guilt, back at the Hub, but they'd followed him home. He supposed they always would.
He showered, then stretched out naked on his own bed.
Had this afternoon's work just been penance for his conscience? Try to help Tosh, sure, but it was really about not having to think for a few hours. Not much different from the sex, then, with that man with the gorgeous vermillion eyes and four hands last week (if such a phrase as "last week" could apply to the places he'd been lately) or that woman with the diamond hair before him. Just something to mark the time and forget the past, because time was all he had and his past just kept growing behind him like the shadow of a monstrous beast.
Sleep didn't happen Thursday night.
***
When Tosh came in, Jack pulled her aside. "I have a side project for you."
"Sure."
"I'd like you to go back through the Rift activity records for the week and see if you notice any patterns. Focus on spikes around noon to oneish. Keep tracking that for now. And Tosh, this is for me, not Gwen."
"I'll see what I can find," she said with a sigh. Tosh was bad with secrets.
Friday morning was payroll morning. One of Jack's biweekly jobs was to annoy and badger and finally order everyone to complete their timesheets so he could approve them and submit the packet to whoever it was at the Palace who rubberstamped and sent them back. That process took two weeks itself, and anyway, they were all on salary except for expenses, which were handled separately via some Byzantine process Lois was working on streamlining. So when Jack hit "Approve" on the last timesheet, the paycheques had usually just arrived by courier.
In theory, they were supposed to be mailed home. The Crown had heard about direct deposit and wanted nothing to do with it. Jack grabbed the stack and wandered out to the office, as he had since it had started to be his job back in 2000.
"Gwen Cooper!" he bellowed. "A note of thanks from the Queen!" He read her address quickly and handed her the cheque with a flourish. So they had bought that same house. He was glad, in a way. He'd liked the look of the place, even if a part of him would always wonder why Gwen had chosen as she did.
"Mickey Smith! A note of thanks from the Queen!" Mickey lived around the corner from Jack. Useful.
Mickey grabbed his cheque. "The Queen and me go way back," he said. "You can tell her from me she's welcome."
"Lois Habiba! A note of thanks from the Queen!"
Lois smiled and slipped it into her purse. Lois lived in a nice neighbourhood, new developments going in, lots of young people.
"Toshiko Sato! A note of thanks from the Queen!" Tosh had kept her flat.
"You don't have to do that every time, you know. Gwen never does when it's her turn."
"Gwen doesn't have my sense of theatrics."
"And we're glad," said Mickey.
Jack grabbed the next cheque, read the name and address, and stopped.
"Johnson?"
"What, no thanks from the Queen?"
Jack flipped the cheque over, showing her the address. "I know this address."
"Coffee break!" said Gwen. "On me. Everyone. Now."
Tosh, Gwen and Lois made for the door. Mickey stood back. "I want to watch this." Gwen grabbed one arm, Lois the other, and they forced him out.
Jack stood there watching Johnson.
"You should," she said. "Your cash bought the place."
"They all knew. They all knew that I didn't know. Why didn't someone tell me?"
"When you found out before, you threatened to throw me into a black hole in someone's attic in Ealing."
"It's a standard threat. Ask Joe."
"You threatened to blow off his kneecaps and balls, then you bought him a beer. He still thinks you're Alice's brother."
"He didn't need to know." Jack hadn't trusted him, even back then. Sometimes he hated being right about people. "You?"
"I already knew." She sighed. "This is Torchwood. We can't even do 'shagging the boss's daughter' normally, can we?"
"No."
There's always a resistance, always an underground. Not many rumours reach them up on the Valiant, but Tish tells him the little she hears. Leo Jones is never captured, never killed, and Jack is certain he and his family are being kept somewhere safe. Five months into their not even remotely private hell, one of the Master's best construction centers is blown sky high in a job that has Lucia's signature written all over it. Jack spends the next several agonising days refusing to tell the Master why he's smiling in paternal pride.
"Come on," Johnson said, and she took his hand. Their private lift went all the way to the roof. She stepped out, and went to the ledge. He followed. "You think better on rooftops."
"So?"
"So I'd prefer your brain be working at peak capacity before you go off."
"I'm not upset. I'm confused."
"About what? Your daughter is genetically the least likely woman in Great Britain to be straight."
"Not that. I don't want to ask, 'Why you?' but … "
"Why me?" He nodded. "We just clicked. You know. After."
He swallowed. Alice was human. And he'd broken her heart. Of course she'd looked for some kind of comfort. Her mother was dead, her father was a monster. It made sense, even a crazier kind of sense knowing that Johnson had killed Jack several times. The little sleep he got at night was often broken by the memory of his body ripping apart from the inside, or the feel of concrete choking and suffocating him.
"I'm happy for you," he managed to say, dust still on his tongue and a pain deep in his belly that wasn't caused by the memory.
"You look like someone ran over your dog."
"You think?"
"As long as we're being chatty, she says she still hates you. She doesn't spit when she says your name anymore, so there may be some progress."
"Great." The lead weight in his stomach continued to lay there.
"She also says that if you come near the house, she'd like me to shoot you. I haven't promised, but if you do, I probably will just to keep the peace. Fair warning."
"Yeah." But he wouldn't go near her place, not ever again. It was too much, and he'd done too much wrong. "If it means anything to you, you've got my blessing."
"It doesn't. But thank you anyway." She pulled out a hip flask, impressive since her clothes had appeared skin tight. She took a swig and then offered it to him.
Jack took a long pull. It burned all the way down.
***
He went to lunch well after the others were back. Tosh had gotten her own, for once, with only a little prodding from Gwen, though she took it back to the Hub. Mickey, who'd been going to sit with the others, made an excuse and brought his back too. Subtlety wasn't his best trait. Jack made a reason to stay in his office until he heard Gwen's voice, and mentally counted out another half hour just in case.
As Jack sat in the cafeteria, the doors across the way opened, and a far too familiar face wedged his way through with a double pram. Jack dropped his fork, then darted his head looking for another exit. The fire exit was behind him, but would sound an alarm.
The pram made its way down the brand new ramp. Lisa was nowhere to be seen, but would no doubt meet them soon. Of course they had to be late today. He should've gone early with his team. He should've gone out. He should've left Wales and moved to China.
They are dancing at Gwen's wedding, and as the song changes, he whispers in Jack's ear: "I know this ... thing we have doesn't mean much to you. But you might want to pretend it does, from time to time."
Ianto scanned the room, looking for his wife. He stopped when he saw Jack, and a curious, confused expression crossed his face. Jack had to get out of there, fast.
He left his food and tray and hurried up the stairs on the far side, not making eye contact, even as Ianto said, "Wait!"
Jack ran, though he didn't have to, not with Ianto and the kids at the bottom of the ramp and a door in the way, and he went through Lois' outer office right to the lift. The roof was far enough away from everything, and he stayed there, no longer hungry, for over an hour, scanning the sky for leathery wings.
***
"I thought I only had to see you once a week." The argument hadn't worked on Lois or Gwen. It probably wouldn't work here either. He tried anyway.
"Normally you do. However, until you recover your lost memories, we should spend time trying to trigger your memory. Your Retcon drug can sometimes be overridden, you said."
"It usually can't."
"We'll try." Dr. Sheffield indicated the couch. Jack took the chair. "Tell me how your week has been."
I've seen a dozen ghosts walking around this week, including my ex-lover, who's in the building every day with his wife and kids. My daughter, who hates me for killing her son, is sleeping with one of my employees, who has a habit of killing me. I can't sleep. My job has been taken over by a committee who seems to do things better than I ever did. It's possible I'm going mad.
"Fine."
"No problems with your team? Smooth transition back?"
"Yes."
"I see."
"How long do we have to talk?"
"Until your hour is done. We can talk about something other than work, if you'd like."
"Okay."
The doctor flipped a page of his notes. "We haven't talked about your sex addiction in a while."
"I don't have a sex addiction!"
"Really?" Dr. Sheffield read from his paper: "You've had sex with members of thirty-seven different species, including five cats."
"The cats were sentient."
"So you said. To continue, you have had sex with more humans than you yourself could count, although you blame alcohol and narcotics for your lack of some memories, four robots, and a blue police box."
Jack blinked. "I told you I had sex with the TARDIS?"
"About three hundred metres from this spot, you said. Is that bringing back any memories?"
"Yeah, but I'm not sharing them." The Doctor had taken the Mayor of Cardiff out for her last supper, Rose and Mickey had gone off, presumably to shag, and Jack had been alone with the single most advanced piece of artificial intelligence ever constructed. The TARDIS may have given its heart entirely to the Doctor, but it, and Rose, had loved Jack enough to make the mistake of giving him eternal life.
"You mentioned there was sex rehab available in the 51st century."
"It's overrated."
"You know it's not healthy to respond to everything by shooting at or sleeping with it."
"Served me well so far."
***
Jack woke from his half-doze, the best he could do these days, and kissed the bare shoulder that lay resting right by his lips. The shoulder moved.
"And that," said Dr. Sheffield --- Jack probably ought to call him Peter now --- "was an example of an inappropriate use of sex as a coping mechanism."
"Mine or yours?"
"Doesn’t matter. Give me a bit more blanket, will you?" Jack gave him more blanket, taking the chance to kiss him again. They'd made it to the spare sleeping quarters. His own place would have been far better suited, and if they continued, he'd suggest pulling on clothes long enough to get there.
Peter broke off the kiss. "This severely undercuts my ability to be your therapist in the future. I won't be able to keep my detachment." He kissed Jack back thoughtfully. "Also, it shoots my credibility straight to hell. I could be brought up on charges with the board."
A few pleasant minutes later, Jack said, "I could arrange for you to forget the last twelve hours."
"That'd be a pity," he said, voice thready from what Jack's hands and mouth were doing. "Still, it's for the greater good. I'm honestly the best person to keep working with your team and I'd hate to have to end that."
"Mm hm."
"Maybe we could wait another hour."
"Mm hm."
***
Jack waited until Peter woke from his Retcon-induced nap to tell him about the mild concussion he'd suffered tripping over the cables in the Hub. He called a cab, told him to stay awake for a bit, and resisted the urge to kiss him goodnight. No use breaking the amnesia that quickly.
He went back inside, but it was too quiet and he was wide awake. He went to the basement and checked on their prisoners: food, water, and for some reason, soaps. Their new holding facility had a television screen tuned to a satellite channel showing soap operas twenty-four hours a day. The Weevils would sit quietly in their cells watching the romantic misadventures of beautiful people in imaginary towns all day and all night, and be perfectly tame except during the commercial breaks. Gwen said Emma had figured it out, and she'd gotten that same clouded look she always did when talking about Emma.
"Good job, Cowell," Jack said quietly, as he closed and locked the door behind himself. The Weevils didn't stir.
Their basement, at least the part where their private lift went, connected to some of the older tunnels from beneath the Hub. Most of the sub-basements had collapsed, but a few had survived worse earthquakes than even the bomb in Jack's gut could have provided. Some of their archives were intact, if now hopelessly incomplete. He spent some time looking through files from the 1920s, waxing nostalgic as he read the names of friends and coworkers long dead.
In Jack's original timeline, he'd made Ianto and the archivists before him scan everything to digital whenever they'd had down time, or when he was angry with them. Ianto had done a lot of scanning after the death of the Cyberman who wasn't Lisa. He wondered if he'd punished Eugene the same way, if they'd preserved their records here. He'd hate to be the only repository of memory regarding the good people who'd worked in Torchwood Three over the last century.
Hours later, he dragged himself back upstairs. Time to start the day. Lois would already have brought in breakfast, they could go over the events for the day, he could take her out again to show her more of the ropes, and …
"Tosh. Where is everyone?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's almost eight."
"Yes?"
"In the morning. People are supposed to be here now."
"It's Saturday."
"And?"
They stared at each other, clearly speaking two different languages.
"Today is Saturday," Tosh said slowly. "It's called a 'week-end.'"
"So?"
"Everything is being monitored, everyone has a comm ready if we need them for an emergency."
"You're here."
"Well, someone handed me an extra project yesterday, didn't he? Anyway, I like it here on the weekends. I can get more done."
He leaned up against the rack holding her computer. "Really?"
"Really." She reset her glasses, an action he'd always found adorable. "Anyway, Gwen and I are the only ones left from the old days. She needs her rest. I can stay here, keep an eye on things. The others don't have to, though they drop in during the day if they're around."
"So we have a day off?" He rolled the idea around in his head.
"If we want. Sundays too, though to be frank, I've never seen a week go by yet without something popping up to bring us back in anyway. We still have to apply for permission to be out of range for more than overnight."
"Good."
"Speaking of overnight." Her lips twitched, hiding a grin.
"Ah. I took care of that."
"What'd you put as the reason on the Retcon log? 'Bad shag?'"
"I'm offended. It was a fantastic shag. I put that Dr. Sheffield," it was hard to call him that again but Jack would adjust, "saw something he shouldn't have."
"Honest, but non-descriptive."
"I could get more descriptive."
"Please don't," she said, putting up a hand. "I think we've all seen you naked at least once. Some of us would prefer not to do so again."
"You’re missing out."
"I'll live with that."
***
The café had minimal service on weekends, so Jack brought back burgers for the two of them, after having confirmed with Tosh that the place he was going didn't freak her out in a "going to get Hepatitis" sort of way.
He considered running a fake alert to drill the team and check their response time. "Don't cry wolf," Tosh said, watching him type in a few scenarios and delete them.
"Can I cry Bad Wolf?"
"No. If you're bored, go for a walk. Or go find a date."
"About that. No one's mentioned, and again, bad memory. Am I seeing someone?"
She paused, and got a pained look on her face. Grief? No, exasperation. "You're always seeing someone. Several someones if you can arrange it. Nothing serious, if that's what you mean."
"No one on the team."
"Not currently. I think you set your sights on Lois until she started quoting the life expectancies of your previous conquests."
"That's cold." Anyway, surely Estelle and Lucia would have raised that average several years. But then, anything after their split-ups might not have counted.
"You use people up, Jack," Lucia says, folding their daughter's tiny clothes to pack them. Jack has been practising their new names but they feel wrong in his mouth. "You're like a fire, consuming as you go. It's too much for one person."
She says much more, and so does he, and then they're both shouting, and for once the shouting doesn't lead to sex. That comes later, after he helps them settle into the new house, and she says she forgives him, but he doesn't believe her.
"I wasn't there," Tosh said. "Mickey said it was pretty funny. Did you really sleep with his girlfriend?"
"I wouldn't say much sleep was involved."
She rolled her eyes. Definitely exasperation.
***
Around six, Tosh intercepted a police report about a run-in with unusual-looking gang members. Jack was about to sound the alarm, but Tosh batted his hand away and dialed a number.
"Andy?"
"Hi, Tosh," said PC Andy's voice over the speaker. "Heard that, didja?"
"Do we need to come in on this?"
"I'll keep an eye open. I think this lot is just wearing masks."
"Again?"
"It’s the new thing. Make the cops think you're an alien."
"Idiots."
"I'll call you if there's a prob."
"Thanks, Andy."
She disconnected, sat back and smiled at Jack. "Now wouldn't you have felt silly showing up guns blazing over a bunch of hoodlums in rubber masks?"
"No. We should go make sure."
"Andy'll keep us updated. It's his job."
Jack grumbled, but went back to his office.
***
Around ten, he noticed he'd been reading the archives for much longer than he'd intended. Some of their records had made it online and had been preserved off-site, and he was looking for gaps.
There was a polite cough at the door. "Toshiko. I thought you'd gone home already."
"I'm about to. But I wanted to let you know about the status of one of my projects."
"Did you see the Rift spikes?"
"No. I'll keep watching, but activity looks normal around that time of day."
He wasn't sure if that was good news or bad news. If there was going to be an instability, surely it would show up in the Rift first, and it ought to be trembling every time Ianto was in the building. "Check two o'clock yesterday."
"There's nothing, Jack."
"Fine. Thanks. You can go home."
"That wasn't the project I meant."
She came the rest of the way in, settling across from him. The dim light of his lamp --- he hated the overhead fluorescents --- shone golden on her face, making her look older. "I've been looking into who might have Retconned you. I checked all the records, all the CCTV files, nothing. Then I tried to do it the proper way. Who had the means, motive, opportunity. Since all of our supply is spoken for, that means either we had some lost during the loss of the Hub, or someone's manufacturing more. But not only is the formula proprietary, the ingredients are highly selective and of alien origin.
"They'd have to be making it in such a quantity to have wiped your brain for such a long time, and of a quality that it didn't kill you, though obviously that's not a limiting factor, or scramble your brain. There's only person who could have done that."
"Me."
"You."
He sat back in his chair. She wasn't accusing him. She was certain.
"I wasn't Retconned."
"Why have you been lying to us? What are you trying to pull?" Tosh was angry now. She held her voice firm, but he could hear the tones behind them. "You pretended … "
"I didn't pretend. I honestly don't know what's happened the last three or four years. Not here."
"Jack … "
"I changed time." Horror crossed her face. "The Doctor changed time. For me." He shook his head. "Not for me. For someone he actually loved." That sounded petulant even in his own ears. The Doctor had proven how much he loved Jack, fighting for him when Jack had given up on himself. "I just helped."
"Oh my God."
"This is not the world I remember. People died in my timeline who are alive now. People lived in my timeline who died here."
He knew she would ask before she said, "Owen?"
"He died in mine, too. So did you."
"Oh." She closed her eyes. "You brought me back. Like this."
"Different things were set in motion. One thread out of place, everything didn't unravel, but it made another pattern."
"Meaning?"
"You were standing in a different place when Gray shot you. Martha wasn't working with us in my timeline. She saved you here."
"She shouldn't have." A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away absently.
"I'm glad she did." He leaned forward to take her hand, rub it tenderly. "I missed you."
"I'd think you of all people would understand," she said. "You're the one who always has to go on, survive the people you love. Don't you wish you could just stop?"
"All the time."
"That's why you changed things, isn’t it? For someone you loved? Because you couldn't deal with saying goodbye."
"It wasn't exactly like that. But yes." He sighed. "The Doctor did me a favor, gave me a gift. Ten more minutes with the people I most needed to say goodbye to. I said goodbye to you. Do you remember me stopping by your place with flowers out of the blue one night? Lilies, I think they were." She nodded. "I'm glad. I'm glad that happened here."
"Did you say goodbye to Owen?"
"Yeah."
"Good. And your … friend?"
"His mother knew the Doctor a long time ago. She asked him … She didn't know what she was asking him."
"And now everything is changed."
"Some things. Not everything. I didn't think about it at the time. The Doctor must have, but I was barely thinking. Too much grief." He spread a smile that had no humour on his face. "You know, I could really use a drink."
"I wouldn't mind one. It's not every day I toast coming back from the dead."
Jack rattled up two glasses and half a bottle of whisky from where he'd spied it in his desk. Dr. Sheffield wouldn't like to hear about that, so Jack wouldn't tell him.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
Tosh coughed around her drink. "You drink this?"
"Apparently."
"So," she said, setting the glass down beside her. "You changed time. The Doctor did, anyway. Isn’t that forbidden?"
"It can be done. Hell, he does it all the time, really. Any time he picks up someone and drops them off somewhere or sometime they don't belong, he changes time. Whenever he shows up with alien tech and changes what would otherwise have happened, he changes time."
"You said the penalty for that is bad."
"If it's done wrong, winged monsters come and eat reality. I'd call that bad."
"And yet you did it anyway."
"Did I mention I wasn't thinking well at the time?"
"That's why you're having me monitor the Rift. Looking for monsters?"
"Basically."
"At lunchtime?"
He took a swallow. "I have reason to believe lunch is a particularly unstable time in Cardiff, yes."
"Why?"
"I can't say."
"You already said. You broke the rules of time and space for some man you were shagging. Yes?"
"Maybe."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"So why are the monsters so interested in your lunch habits?"
"Because. The person I changed time for comes to the cafeteria every day to have lunch with his wife, who works on the second floor. The Doctor saved him, and I asked for her life too because I'm an idiot."
"You're a romantic."
"Same thing. Anyway, I had my ten minutes. Six hundred seconds. All gone now. All spent. I don't get more time with him, not to say hi, not to introduce myself since he'll have no idea who I am anyway, not to tell him how crazy I've been since I lost him or how much he meant to me, not anything. And if I try, hell, if I bump into him by accident as he's bringing the kids over, the monsters come, and everything shatters, and if I am very, very lucky, all that means is that the timeline resets and I lose him, and you, and everything all over again. But I'm not very lucky, and I think it will be much worse."
Tosh played with her glass, then took a long, gulping drink. "So that's all, then. End of the world. I thought it would be something serious."
"Don't play."
She smirked. "You're an idiot."
"Thanks."
"No, I mean it. You're a complete moron."
"Tell me how you really feel, Tosh," he said, folding his arms uncomfortably.
"Let me get this clear. You had this boyfriend and he died and you had your ten minutes from the Doctor to say goodbye and then you changed time a bit so he never died."
"Something like that."
"And now you think flying monsters will attack us all if you say hello."
"That's how it works, yes."
"Because you already said goodbye, and the Doctor said you only had ten minutes."
"Yeah."
"How long have you and I been talking in this room?"
Instinct made Jack look at his watch before he caught on. "You."
"You said goodbye to me. And here I am. No monsters."
"I could kiss you."
"Please do. I haven't had a good snog in a while." He walked around the desk and kissed her solidly. "Mmm. Nice."
"I could be nicer."
"Don't ruin the moment."
"Okay." He sat back down, but his mind was already miles away.
"The world doesn't revolve around you, Jack Harkness. Only you would have the massive ego to think it did."
"It was a valid fear! This has happened before." Lecture after lecture from the Time Agency. Rose, weeping softly into his shoulder, whispering how she held her dad as he died.
"You get a second chance. You don't have to keep moping around here like a widow."
"Neither do you."
She gasped like he'd struck her. "That's unfair."
"You're right. I get grief. I get how hard it is to move on." He took her hand again. "But you get a second chance, too, this time around."
"Some chance." She looked down at her chair. "Some days, I think I'd rather have my fate from your timeline."
"I can think of someone who'd love to change your mind."
Their eyes met. "He's a kid," she said. "A sweet kid."
"He's older than Tommy."
She flinched again. "Let it never be said you ever resisted the low blows."
"Sorry. I'm not playing yenta. Your life is yours to work out. I'm just pointing out there's someone who seems to spend a lot of time thinking about what you want and what you'd like, and being there for you."
"Did he tell you that he carried me out of the Hub when you blew up?"
"No."
"I hated him for it. Eugene died in there. I should have died. But Mickey grabbed me up and took me out of there, and didn't expect thanks or anything. He just did it."
"That's who he is. He crossed universes to help his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend because she needed him to. Twice."
"Does anyone travel with the Doctor and not come out of it mental?"
He gave the question honest consideration, but he'd made a study of the other Wendys. "No."
"I'm not like you. I used to think I needed other people to define me. I don't anymore."
"I don't need people to define me."
"Please. Your self-worth is directly tied to the number of people you've shagged this month. You wrap your entire life around the people in this office. You broke time for someone you couldn't bear to let go. You don't have a brain, so you use me, and since you lack a conscience, you use Gwen. You are all about people."
"I need someone to act as my conscience. A companion, if you will. And I think you're the man for the job."
Jack laughs without humour. "If you think that, you're even crazier than I thought."
"Oh, I am. Have no doubt. But to show good faith, I'd like to offer you a gift. Something nice. Perhaps something that you've recently lost."
Jack's mouth goes dry.
"Gwen is not my conscience."
"Really? What about the 456, then?"
He sat back roughly. "I don't want to talk about the 456."
"I know. You're going to carry that guilt forever. Gwen at least gets to let go of hers when she dies."
Yeah. "Gwen was there?"
"Of course Gwen was there. She was the one who found that little girl. God alone knows what you'd've done if she hadn't. Actually, I take that back. We all know what you would've done."
His lips felt numb, like when he drowned. "Tosh, what little girl?"
"The girl from the children's hospital. Madeleine. She had leukemia, Gwen fed her a story about being a hero, saving the world." Tosh emptied her glass, and only then caught the shock on his face. "Jack?"
"Madeleine?"
"You were about to use another child," she said, "when Gwen came." She didn't meet his eyes. "Oh, Jack. You didn't. You didn't, really?" She drifted her gaze up hopefully.
"Alice hates me."
"Of course she hates you. You were ten seconds away from killing her son. If Gwen hadn't stopped you, you would have." She looked away. "I told myself you wouldn't have gone through with it. You would have stopped yourself."
"Alice knows me too well." He had to approach this carefully. Too much, too soon, and he was sure the universe would notice and spring back, and the least he'd have to worry about would be the monsters, but the most he could gain … "Steven's alive?"
She nodded. "I thought you knew. We all thought you knew. Lois gave you the report. You didn't read it?"
He shook his head. "I have to go. I have to see him."
"It's late, you've been drinking, and you're not welcome there."
"Don’t care." He grabbed his coat, bent over and kissed her again. "I am never going to be able to thank you enough."
"Thank me by not getting killed again. Lois has been complaining about the dry cleaner."
He took the SUV. No doubt he had a car here somewhere, but he wanted to go, to get there, and he didn't want to take the time to sort out keys he might or might not have. The radio was on, and he didn't know the songs but sang along loudly anyway. The world was a new place, his grandson was alive, it was Saturday night, and everything was going to be okay.
He parked on the street outside the house and bounded up to the front door. He knocked hard. "Alice! I need to come in!"
The house was dark, and then lights flickered on from upstairs. A dark form came down the stairs as Jack stamped on the front step. "Look, I know you're mad."
The door opened. Johnson stood there, hair mussed, in a dressing gown and not much else. Alice was walking down the stairs, rage on her face.
"I told you … "
"I have to see Steven. Just for a minute."
"Get out."
He went to push past Johnson, who refused to move. "This isn't a good time," she said in a low voice.
"I'll go again as soon as I see him. Please."
Johnson turned back to Alice, who nodded once. Johnson sighed. "Sorry." She pulled her gun and before he could move, she shot him in the head.
***
TBC
***
Part Three