The Brief December (2/3)
Title: The Brief December (2/3)
Author: nancybrown
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto (past Jack/everyone), Gwen, Mickey, Martha, Lucy Saxon, Lois, Johnson, Rupesh, OCs (other Whoniverse mentions and cameos)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 13,500 (5000 this part)
Spoilers: CoE (characters only), DW: EoT
Summary: Three stories for a winter night, or, Torchwood in the dark of the year.
Warnings: original characters, no unifying plot, schmoop, angst, (schmangst?), mentions of TYTNW
Beta: fide_et_spe and lawsontl both took a look at this, helped kick it into shape, and have my deepest thanks; remaining mistakes are all mine
Author's Note: Part of an alternate third season where Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh have joined the team. Written for
the_longest_night. Parts will be posted leading up to the Winter Solstice.
I. Too fragile for winter winds
***
II. Gladsome tidings now we bring
***
December 17th
***
"So you'll be coming for Christmas, then," said Rhiannon, shaking Ianto out of the half-alert state in which he conducted most of their phone conversations.
"What?"
"Christmas. It's next week. You'll be coming. You can bring your … You can bring Jack, if you want." Her voice went into that super-casual mode she used whenever Jack came up. She liked him, of course she liked him, everyone liked him, but Rhiannon was also a touch worried, wasn't she?
"I'll have to check with him. I think he was talking about visiting with his own family." Not an outright lie. Not an outright truth, either. "I'll let you know."
"Do. What size are you wearing these days?"
"Rhi, do not buy me clothes. Please." Years past of jumpers he couldn't even give away to jumble sales haunted his memories. She meant well, and he loved her, but he had his limits. There was a chirp in his other ear. "I have to go. Love to you and the kids," he said automatically, and rang off.
"Boardroom," Jack said. "Everybody."
He stashed his mobile in his pocket, straightened his clothes, and hurried to the Boardroom, where the rest were gathering for a meeting. He took his seat, not the last one in the room, at least. Jack stood at the front, arms folded, waiting.
"Thanks," Ianto said with a smile to Lois as she passed him his mug.
"Any idea what this is about?"
"No." He watched Jack as Jack watched everyone settle into more-or-less attentive poses, but Jack's stance gave away nothing. Ianto did what he liked to think of as his 'I'm not staring, really,' pose, where he looked into his coffee as he drank, while focusing elsewhere.
There. Even as Ianto recognised the little tell-tale line on Jack's face, almost perfectly masked by practise and time, his heart sank. He didn't have to know the topic of today's impromptu meeting. He already understood it had to do with Jack's time away from them, and the horrific year it represented.
Jack gave a tight smile to the room, then reached over to press the speaker button. "Mickey, you there?"
"Go ahead," came the voice from the box.
"So, for everyone who came in late," Jack glanced at Lois, Johnson, Perry, and Rupesh, "Martha and I were captured by a malevolent alien who took over the world for a year and wanted to use the Earth as a launch pad to control large swathes of the universe."
Lois laughed, while Johnson and Rupesh just stared. Perry gave the statement the same consideration he did everything unexpected, which was to wonder if things were just like this in the future. (The answer was often: "Yes, but only for Torchwood.") Ianto and Gwen had already heard parts of the story, and caught one another's eye as they sat back and waited.
"This again," said Gwen's glance, and then her eyes slid back to Jack.
Lois stopped laughing, and covered her mouth in embarrassment. "You're serious?"
"Afraid so." Jack's expression didn't change, but he also didn't berate her. "We stopped him. Martha and the Doctor and me. If you don't remember, be very, very glad."
Johnson raised her hand. "I don't remember. I'm not glad. What happened?"
The tight line on Jack's face grew. "Hell. You don't need details." The details Ianto knew were sketchy, but sufficient. "He held several of us prisoner, and he … " Jack blinked, clearly trying to push away what he felt, to play a role for them. Sure enough, a second later he wore an off-hand smile. "He was a nutter. Enough said." His voice went nonchalant in the way it did when he was conning someone. "Anyway, one of his prisoners is still locked up. Our agent in London found where she's being held. Once we're ready, we're going to spring her."
"Why?" Johnson looked less than convinced.
"Because it's the right thing to do."
"So is following the speeding limit. We don't do that, either. Is this person being detained by an alien megalomaniac, and if so, shouldn't our primary concern be the alien megalomaniac in question?"
"He's dead. She's not. You don't leave people behind."
Ianto let out a breath. He saw Perry straighten his shoulders, clearly thinking back to the war, while Ianto knew Jack had another association with leaving people behind. He wouldn't let this go, not ever.
"Where is she located?" Ianto asked, a little louder than necessary. "We'll need to see the security of wherever she is."
Gwen picked up his cue, bless her. "If there are local authorities nearby, we'll want to contact them to keep out of our way."
"Broadfell Prison," said Mickey. "It's not far from your position. Old prison, constructed in the 1950s, now barely used except for prisoners waitin' for transfer to somewhere else. Skeleton staff, but always on duty. I've worked out the rotations and I think I've figured out most of their outside security precautions."
"That's good intel," Gwen said warmly.
"Despite what Captain Underpants may have told you, I'm more than just a pretty face.
"Some of the guards may be under alien control," Jack said, cutting through the humour. "We can't tell if it's mind control, which we can jam, or if he just wound them up into a cult, which means we'll have to take them out."
"Working on it," said Mickey. "By the time you're here, I'll know. Be ready."
"Thanks." Jack closed the connection. "We're keeping the team small. Martha, Mickey and I are already in this. Gwen, Johnson, I'll need you as firepower. Perry, you're coming for support, but I expect you to stay out of the direct action unless I tell you otherwise. Everyone else, you're here as backup. Understood?"
Ianto saw only nods around the table. He held his own opinion until after Jack dismissed them. He helped Lois clear the table.
"Thanks," she said nervously. "I shouldn't have laughed. I thought he was making a political joke."
"He doesn't do that. It's all right. I'm sure he's forgotten already."
"What is this all about, Ianto? He was held prisoner for a year? And Martha, too?"
"It's complicated. The Doctor. Time travel. You'll get used to it." Ianto hadn't, it was true, but there was no point telling that to Lois. Jack had left them, and had been gone much longer than they thought, and he'd come back different. Better, Ianto tended to think, but also, on the bad nights, a bit more broken as well. If this rescue mission was what he needed to finally put that awful year to rest, Ianto would help.
"If you've got this," he said.
"Sure."
He went to Jack's office and let himself inside. Jack was looking over a file. "I remember when you used to knock."
"Why am I not on the mission?"
"I don't need you there."
That was probably true. Gwen and Johnson both were better shots. "What's the other reason?"
"I want you coordinating things in case we get into trouble on-site. You're better at arranging emergency diversions than Lois is."
"And?"
"I think those are perfectly good reasons."
"You never mentioned this, not once. I knew you'd been working with Martha and Mickey on something, but you hadn't said what."
"You didn't need to know."
Again, this was likely true. If the operation was as secret as Jack indicated, tipping his hand to anyone who didn't absolutely need to know about it could jeopardise the plan. If anything, he ought to have told Gwen, as his second in command, but Ianto was merely a field agent. Jack hadn't needed to share the details of the investigation with Ianto, so he hadn't shared them.
Jack was behaving like a normal, competent manager. Ianto was at a loss.
"Jack … "
"There's a good chance it's a trap." Jack kept his eyes on the file. Broadfell. "It's the perfect set-up to grab me and Martha. Little breadcrumbs, give us a reason to want to walk in ourselves. If I were making a trap for us, this is exactly how I'd do it."
"Who would set a trap for you?"
A shudder moved through Jack.
"He's dead," said Ianto. "You said so yourself."
"I can't afford to be wrong." He looked at Ianto. "He killed you. In the other timeline." That wasn't a surprise. Bit creepy, to know there was a world where he'd died, that was all. "He made me watch."
"I gathered." He took a breath. "He also killed Gwen, didn't he?"
"Yeah."
But Gwen was going and Ianto was staying behind. The problem with their latest resolution to keep the personal issues at home and the professional issues at work was that this life they led meant the two were entangled within and around each other like a creeping vine that choked itself. Was it a business reason or a personal one for Jack to make this decision, especially when Jack himself was living in terror of a dead man? And what more could Ianto do to reassure him, except perform his tasks and prove that he was alive?
He changed tactics. Fighting Jack wouldn't do any good. "What do you want me to do?"
As he'd guessed, the tension eased from Jack's shoulders. "Two things. Two big things. First, I want you to start setting up a new identity for our target. I'll give you the basics. Put together a good background for her." Ianto nodded. "Keep Lois out of it." Ah. This was going to be more illegal than usual, and Lois was new enough that Jack was still protecting her from the worst of it. "Second, I want you to help me think up a Plan B for when this goes bad."
"Do we have a Plan A yet?"
"You can help on that, too."
***
December 19th
***
Watch …
They drove to the site in two vehicles, and parked them down the road past where Ianto and Lois could find any security cameras. Gwen took charge of the camera-douser for when they ran into more. Mickey had the PDA with the layout of the facility. Martha had her kit and the perception filter. Perry had the scramblers, the lock picks, and the Plenarian device. Jack and Johnson had their guns.
A few precious minutes trickled by as Jack made them look at the blueprint again.
"We ought to wear masks," was the only thing Johnson said.
"We're the good guys," Jack replied. "And they know who we are."
Their dark clothes blended in with the night. Prisons were for people to escape from, not to break into, but still there were lights and guards and cameras. Gwen saw to it that the cameras were blind. Jack led them through the shadows the lights created. Perry turned on the scrambler and hid their footsteps from the ground sensors as they approached the building. The guards never saw them.
Click and blink and click again, and the side door, the servant door, the back way in was clear. "Gwen."
Gwen gave him the camera-douser and found a shadow and hid within it, watching the exit. She was his right hand, holding the back door ajar, and the one he could trust to wait.
In, around, every corner a terror, every sound the snap of the cage shutting, but Mickey's PDA led them like a golden ball of twine, and the tech in their hands kept them invisible. Martha walked beside him, steady and unafraid. Their target might be dead, or wounded, or broken, and Martha was a doctor first. Johnson kept the lookout, and if she didn't shoot the walls or windows out of nerves, they were going to make it through this just fine.
An alarm sounded.
Jack looked at the first doorway he saw. "In there," he whispered, sweeping them into what he hoped was an empty room.
His heart raced, and he sweated under his clothes. It was the Master. It was a trap. He'd been found out, and he'd be dragged back there, and this time there would be no reset, only endless days of pain and watching the people he loved die over and over …
"Jack?"
Martha's hand was on his shoulder, and her eyes were steady.
"Jack, it's not him. Come back. We need you here."
And after a long moment of misery, he believed her.
***
Gwen's eyes went wide when the alarm rang out. Her impulse was to run, but she forced herself deeper into the shadow.
She touched her ear.
***
Two sets of alarms, just offset by a fraction of a second, played over the speakers at the Hub.
"Can you hear?" Gwen breathed, as Jack hissed, "We've been spotted."
Lois was already in front of her station, scanning the security feeds they'd hacked into at the prison. "It's an external alarm. Gwen, it's your position. They must have reset the ground sensors." It had been a risk.
Gwen swore.
"Go," said Jack, and the sound of Gwen's comm flicked off. Lois could picture her running, her path away from the cars and the prison. The ground was frozen and cold, but there hadn't yet been snow. Her footprints would be hidden.
Lois typed as fast as she could, uploading the file of a darting rabbit to the prison's server. The angle wasn't going to be perfect, but it was dark and grainy, and might be enough.
The alarm still came from Jack's open comm.
She looked at Rupesh. "Plan B."
***
Everything was down to breaths now. Jack listened to his people around him. Johnson stood completely still. Mickey tried and failed to keep himself from bouncing nervously on his feet. Martha took in long, deep breaths and waited, but she had done this many times before and was used to the perception filter. Perry was clearly terrified, but kept looking to Jack for what to do next, and all there was to do was wait.
***
From where she'd run, heart pounding and lungs burning in the cold air, Gwen could just spy the car pulling round right in front of the prison gate, could watch as the two figures within stepped out and approached. Then she had to keep running.
***
The alarm shut off.
Jack waited another two full minutes, just in case.
***
It was late, too late to be chasing more damned rabbits. Ever since they'd installed this new system, they'd had plenty of rabbits, and mice, and rats, and cats, and once a damned Rotweiller, it was a nuisance, and the matron resented it.
Everything about this job was a nuisance. Open a wing, bring in some drudge of a woman who'd had enough and knocked her two-fisted husband down once and for all, and transfer her out again. House some slip of a gel who wasn't bright enough to make her boyfriend use a condom, wasn't fast enough to get to the doctor for a termination, but could plan how to stash a tiny body in a skip miles from her house, and then she's gone in a week to the new facility. The only constant was the prisoner in the new wing, another husband-killer it said on her record, but her record said her name was Allison Frye, and not once had the matron ever seen that name come up from a trial or a newspaper clipping. Feed her, keep her, don't ask questions about her. Someone needed her alive.
Bloody nuisance.
And now there were two annoying, smiling idiots sent by the Board of Governors (probably that new Governor, that smirking blonde, what was her name, the matron couldn't remember) here for a scheduled late night inspection.
"Hi!" they said in tandem, bright with their own mediocrity.
The matron had forgotten the appointment, but there it was on her calendar, all verified, probably made by that awful Trefusis woman, who was home now and asleep, warm in her bed, not a night guard, oh no. The identification the smiling idiots carried matched the names for the appointment. The large set of forms the man pulled out of his briefcase bespoke hours of paperwork yet to be for her nuisance of a job with her nuisance of a prisoner.
"We'll need your full cooperation," he said. The accent said Wales, but the attitude said bloody middle manager sent to make her life even more miserable.
The matron was really beginning to hate this place.
She shoved a smile onto her own face. "I'm sure we'll be as cooperative as possible."
"I'm sure," said Tish.
***
The lock picks easily opened the cell door. The lone prisoner was asleep, and Jack wondered what she dreamt of. Then he knelt by the small bed and shook her shoulder.
Her eyes opened in confusion, and he put a finger to his lips. "You called. We came." He glanced up at Martha, who bent beside him swiftly, and even as the prisoner woke further, checked her over clinically.
"She's fine."
"Good." He stood. "Ready to go?"
She swung her legs out from under the blankets. Gone were the pretty suits and the voluptuous gowns. Lucy wore tracksuit bottoms and a tank top, her once-long hair cut short and left a bit dirty. But her eyes were bright and clear now that she'd shaken off her sleep, and free of madness.
"Oh," he said, remembering Perry. "Say cheese!"
***
The inspection included a tour of the facility. Both inspectors lost their perky gleam at the notion, and the matron would rather skip it than trudge through these dark corridors again, but the inspections always included the physical tour, and if she was going to have to deal with one, she was bloody well going to do it right.
She picked her two least-favourite guards to join them, reasoning that no-one should be enjoying their evening, and watched with delight as the two guards flanked the pissant inspectors.
"This is the old wing. We don't use it anymore."
Just then she heard a noise, and she stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a movement, heard a gasp, but she didn't see anything in the hallways, and the guards saw nothing at all. The inspectors watched the darkness with her.
She decided to poke them. "Some of the guards think there are ghosts here." She turned on the woman and said, "Boo!"
The woman let out a little nervous laugh. The man's eyes watched the empty corridor, and then turned back to the matron. "Shall we continue?"
The matron let herself enjoy her victory as she heard the woman lean in close to her partner and whisper, "You owe me so much for this."
They reached the prisoner's cell, the only one occupied just now. Bloody stupid idea keeping the prison open for one inmate. As they approached, the matron noticed how the woman shot nervous looks at the man, and he himself seemed uncertain. For a moment, she wondered if they knew who Allison Frye really was, and what she'd done to merit such special treatment. She wondered if they'd tell her.
Then the key was in the lock, and the door swung wide open. Allison sat up in her bunk, an unusually happy smile on her face.
"As you can see," said the matron, "she's fine."
***
"It's a simulation," Jack had said, and Perry had drunk up the information for later. Torchwood could copy people, with the right equipment. It wasn't a good copy, and it wouldn't fool someone for long, but once a man named Harper had been duplicated and the team hadn't noticed for hours.
"There's a physical form created," Ianto had said. "You can interact with it, talk to it, but it can only repeat a few phrases."
"But it's not real," Gwen had said. "It's a bit horrible, if you think about it."
The Plenarians had used it to send messages, like a recording. Their tech had immediately been stolen by neighbouring species and used as sexual devices, according to Jack, but Perry was learning that Jack always said that.
***
"Thank you, matron," said Allison's voice. "I'm very tired."
***
Johnson had remained out of the cell, and it was only when they were through the building, and outside walking back in the frigid air that she finally got a good look at the prisoner they'd rescued.
"I know you," she said, and then wished herself silent as Jack glared.
The woman nodded, and huddled more deeply into the jacket she'd been given.
Four miles away from the prison, the car carrying Captain Harkness, Dr. Jones and the prisoner took an exit Johnson didn't recognise, while their own car continued onwards. "Where are they going?"
Cooper said, "They'll meet us later," which wasn't an answer at all.
***
The inspectors cut their visit short after a call from their supervisor. Mr. Agarwal sounded cross, and the matron was only too glad to see the backs of them.
***
Rupesh rang off. Lois nodded at him, and uploaded the dummy files to replace the prison's footage of Ianto and Letitia. They were never there.
She saved her own copy of the original file just in case.
***
"She helped murder over a billion people." Tish had been quiet on the drive to the prison. This was the first she'd spoken since they'd left. "Six hundred million died the first hour. The Toclafane cut down more every day, for resisting, for no reason at all. Whole countries burned."
In his mind's eye, Ianto tried and failed to imagine the scope. He could throw around terms like millions and billions, but when it got down to it, his mental picture was fuzzy over a thousand. Who could visualise a million and mean it? A billion? Ground to death under a patent leather heel?
"They killed my brother."
Her words were very nearly devoid of expression. It hadn't happened. Jack and Martha had made it not happen, just like Ianto's death. But the loss was sharper now, personal. A billion dead were a number. Martha and Tish's brother had a face. Ianto had met Leo at the wedding.
"I'm sorry."
"It was some soldiers. They were supposed to bring him in alive, but someone didn't hear the order, or didn't care. It was fast. The Master brought the soldiers to the ship. It wasn't fast for them. He'd been practising, you see."
And then his mental picture was crystal clear. "On Jack."
"Perfect test subject." She looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped. Jack hadn't said much about what had happened to him, though his dropped asides and occasional nightmares had provided enough framework for Ianto to fill in the rest on his own.
"That was the Master, not … " he flailed for a moment; 'Lucy' was too informal for a woman he'd never met, and 'Mrs. Saxon' seemed grotesque, considering she'd shot Mr. Saxon, "her."
He noticed that she was speeding up the car a bit. They were going to rendezvous with the others, but apparently it would be sooner rather than later.
"She helped him come to power. She laughed when he started the killing. She went to prison for his murder, but it's the one decent thing she did, and a damned shame she didn't do it a year sooner."
He'd only met Tish once before tonight, so he had no way of knowing how tight a rein she was keeping on her emotions, or of where her breaking point might be. He thought maybe she was close. The Master had tortured and killed Jack. God alone knew what he'd done to the other prisoners. Jack had said they were all prisoners together, though, Martha's family and the Doctor and himself, and Lucy Saxon as well. He'd said it was hell.
"I'm sorry," he said again, and meant it.
***
The wind bit sharply through her coat, and Martha wrapped it close around herself. She knew she wasn't showing yet, but she kept imagining she was, that her coat fit more tightly, and her trousers, and everything. She was aware of the feel of the cloth, different than it was yesterday, looser than it would be tomorrow.
Jack had a large envelope in his hand. "Start practising your new name while you're on the ferry. By the time you reach the airport, you'll need to respond like you've had it all your life."
Lucy nodded, and Martha felt a small surge of sympathy. Everyone was starting a new life, it seemed.
More cars came and went from the car park, and Martha kept an eye open. When she saw his car, she smiled. Tom got out, clicked his key to make the little beeping noise as the locks engaged, and hurried to where they waited. "Sorry, I got away as soon as I could."
"It's fine," Martha said, and she tiptoed up to kiss him, at first lightly, until he pressed in for more. He would be gone again for days. But after this, he was back. He was staying.
The least prudish person in several galaxies cleared his throat, and Martha stepped back. "Don't you start," she said.
Tom shook Jack's hand, and then shook Lucy's. "It's good to meet you."
Martha blinked away the memories of watching him die. He was alive, here, now. They were going to have a baby. This was the timeline that mattered.
"Is everything in place?" Tom asked Jack.
"I put my best person in charge of creating her new identity. The tickets are in the envelope. We even packed her a bag." He indicated the floral-print valise, and Martha was never going to ask if Jack had made Ianto pack the ladies' clothes and toiletries.
Tom turned to Lucy, or Carol, as her new name was going to be. "Have they explained where we're going?"
"You're a doctor. You go to places where they need doctors. I'm going with you."
He smiled. God, Martha loved his smiles. "They need doctors, and nurses, and people willing to help. Do you know first aid?"
"I learned in the Guides."
"That's a start, then. You'll pick up more." He glanced at Jack. "You should know, where we're going isn't the safest place in the world. The opposite, really. Women and children are our usual patients, and our clinic has been targeted before for violence."
Martha knew all this. She'd gone with him to the clinics, and the little hospitals. Saying that women and children were their usual patients was a genteel way of avoiding talking about what they were being treated for, and how much violence. But they'd all seen more pain, even if Tom didn't remember it, and this was somewhere they could help.
Maybe Lucy understood, maybe she just knew there was no other option in front of her. "I'm ready."
More cars were parking, arriving for the ferry even as boarding began. Two figures made their way towards them, and she saw Jack's hand go for his gun before he relaxed. Tish and Ianto came into view.
Jack said, "You were supposed to meet us at the rendezvous point." Ianto shrugged, but he hadn't been the one who got out of the driver's side of Tish's car. Martha didn't miss the mild look of relief that crossed Jack's face and was hidden again; he'd been worried that Plan B might be the trap after all.
"I wanted to say goodbye," Tish said. She took Tom's hands and gave him a kiss on his cheek with a sweet, absent smile. "Have a safe trip."
"We will."
Then Tish let go of Tom's hands, and with the same slight smile, she punched Lucy.
She turned to Martha. "I'm ready to go now."
***
After the rendezvous, and the thanks, and the hugs, two cars went back towards London, and two to Cardiff. Ianto waited until he and Jack were in their car and on the road, with Gwen and Johnson following at a saner pace behind them.
He opened his mouth and Jack said, "You should have sent Rupesh."
"He can't do 'underling' well."
"Lois, then."
"I don't think Lois knows how to lie."
Jack looked like he wanted to argue the point, but dropped it. "I didn't want you there."
"I know."
"Was Tish all right?" His voice changed tone as the conversation switched gears.
"She will be, I think. Now."
"Good."
Her words came back to him, had been eating at him. "Jack, she said Lucy helped murder a billion people."
Jack kept driving. "She did."
It was still so strange to try and wrap his head around multiple timelines, but Ianto pushed his thoughts through. "That still happened. Just because you rewrote the timeline doesn't mean she didn't kill them." And you.
"Your point?"
Ianto wanted to know what had happened, the things Jack and Martha left out, the bits he'd guessed. They were both supposed to talk with an analyst, but the appointments kept getting delayed by the Rift, and Ianto had to admit, a bit of apathy. Yes, intellectually he knew professional help might get him to a healthier place about the horrible things that had happened in his own short life, and God knew Jack had experienced lifetimes of shit that would be best excised with intensive therapy. At the same time, Ianto wanted to be the one Jack talked out his demons with, and felt that bringing in an outsider was admitting defeat. Which was probably another sign of how much he ought to keep his appointments after all.
This whole mission had "personal demon" written in thick, black felt pen all over it.
"Why are we helping her?"
"It was the right thing to do." He'd said that before. Ianto wanted to believe him, but had trouble in the light of what Tish had said, and if nothing else, the murder of her husband had not been undone by the unravelling paradox.
"She's a killer."
Jack looked at him. His eyes were old, but kinder than they could have been. "We're all killers, Ianto. We don't get a redo. All we get is a chance to make things better next time for someone else."
Which was not at all a subtle way of reminding Ianto of his own second chance, and it was enough to quiet him for the rest of the ride home.
***
III. Sing the sad of heart to cheer
Author: nancybrown
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto (past Jack/everyone), Gwen, Mickey, Martha, Lucy Saxon, Lois, Johnson, Rupesh, OCs (other Whoniverse mentions and cameos)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 13,500 (5000 this part)
Spoilers: CoE (characters only), DW: EoT
Summary: Three stories for a winter night, or, Torchwood in the dark of the year.
Warnings: original characters, no unifying plot, schmoop, angst, (schmangst?), mentions of TYTNW
Beta: fide_et_spe and lawsontl both took a look at this, helped kick it into shape, and have my deepest thanks; remaining mistakes are all mine
Author's Note: Part of an alternate third season where Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh have joined the team. Written for
the_longest_night. Parts will be posted leading up to the Winter Solstice.
I. Too fragile for winter winds
***
II. Gladsome tidings now we bring
***
December 17th
***
"So you'll be coming for Christmas, then," said Rhiannon, shaking Ianto out of the half-alert state in which he conducted most of their phone conversations.
"What?"
"Christmas. It's next week. You'll be coming. You can bring your … You can bring Jack, if you want." Her voice went into that super-casual mode she used whenever Jack came up. She liked him, of course she liked him, everyone liked him, but Rhiannon was also a touch worried, wasn't she?
"I'll have to check with him. I think he was talking about visiting with his own family." Not an outright lie. Not an outright truth, either. "I'll let you know."
"Do. What size are you wearing these days?"
"Rhi, do not buy me clothes. Please." Years past of jumpers he couldn't even give away to jumble sales haunted his memories. She meant well, and he loved her, but he had his limits. There was a chirp in his other ear. "I have to go. Love to you and the kids," he said automatically, and rang off.
"Boardroom," Jack said. "Everybody."
He stashed his mobile in his pocket, straightened his clothes, and hurried to the Boardroom, where the rest were gathering for a meeting. He took his seat, not the last one in the room, at least. Jack stood at the front, arms folded, waiting.
"Thanks," Ianto said with a smile to Lois as she passed him his mug.
"Any idea what this is about?"
"No." He watched Jack as Jack watched everyone settle into more-or-less attentive poses, but Jack's stance gave away nothing. Ianto did what he liked to think of as his 'I'm not staring, really,' pose, where he looked into his coffee as he drank, while focusing elsewhere.
There. Even as Ianto recognised the little tell-tale line on Jack's face, almost perfectly masked by practise and time, his heart sank. He didn't have to know the topic of today's impromptu meeting. He already understood it had to do with Jack's time away from them, and the horrific year it represented.
Jack gave a tight smile to the room, then reached over to press the speaker button. "Mickey, you there?"
"Go ahead," came the voice from the box.
"So, for everyone who came in late," Jack glanced at Lois, Johnson, Perry, and Rupesh, "Martha and I were captured by a malevolent alien who took over the world for a year and wanted to use the Earth as a launch pad to control large swathes of the universe."
Lois laughed, while Johnson and Rupesh just stared. Perry gave the statement the same consideration he did everything unexpected, which was to wonder if things were just like this in the future. (The answer was often: "Yes, but only for Torchwood.") Ianto and Gwen had already heard parts of the story, and caught one another's eye as they sat back and waited.
"This again," said Gwen's glance, and then her eyes slid back to Jack.
Lois stopped laughing, and covered her mouth in embarrassment. "You're serious?"
"Afraid so." Jack's expression didn't change, but he also didn't berate her. "We stopped him. Martha and the Doctor and me. If you don't remember, be very, very glad."
Johnson raised her hand. "I don't remember. I'm not glad. What happened?"
The tight line on Jack's face grew. "Hell. You don't need details." The details Ianto knew were sketchy, but sufficient. "He held several of us prisoner, and he … " Jack blinked, clearly trying to push away what he felt, to play a role for them. Sure enough, a second later he wore an off-hand smile. "He was a nutter. Enough said." His voice went nonchalant in the way it did when he was conning someone. "Anyway, one of his prisoners is still locked up. Our agent in London found where she's being held. Once we're ready, we're going to spring her."
"Why?" Johnson looked less than convinced.
"Because it's the right thing to do."
"So is following the speeding limit. We don't do that, either. Is this person being detained by an alien megalomaniac, and if so, shouldn't our primary concern be the alien megalomaniac in question?"
"He's dead. She's not. You don't leave people behind."
Ianto let out a breath. He saw Perry straighten his shoulders, clearly thinking back to the war, while Ianto knew Jack had another association with leaving people behind. He wouldn't let this go, not ever.
"Where is she located?" Ianto asked, a little louder than necessary. "We'll need to see the security of wherever she is."
Gwen picked up his cue, bless her. "If there are local authorities nearby, we'll want to contact them to keep out of our way."
"Broadfell Prison," said Mickey. "It's not far from your position. Old prison, constructed in the 1950s, now barely used except for prisoners waitin' for transfer to somewhere else. Skeleton staff, but always on duty. I've worked out the rotations and I think I've figured out most of their outside security precautions."
"That's good intel," Gwen said warmly.
"Despite what Captain Underpants may have told you, I'm more than just a pretty face.
"Some of the guards may be under alien control," Jack said, cutting through the humour. "We can't tell if it's mind control, which we can jam, or if he just wound them up into a cult, which means we'll have to take them out."
"Working on it," said Mickey. "By the time you're here, I'll know. Be ready."
"Thanks." Jack closed the connection. "We're keeping the team small. Martha, Mickey and I are already in this. Gwen, Johnson, I'll need you as firepower. Perry, you're coming for support, but I expect you to stay out of the direct action unless I tell you otherwise. Everyone else, you're here as backup. Understood?"
Ianto saw only nods around the table. He held his own opinion until after Jack dismissed them. He helped Lois clear the table.
"Thanks," she said nervously. "I shouldn't have laughed. I thought he was making a political joke."
"He doesn't do that. It's all right. I'm sure he's forgotten already."
"What is this all about, Ianto? He was held prisoner for a year? And Martha, too?"
"It's complicated. The Doctor. Time travel. You'll get used to it." Ianto hadn't, it was true, but there was no point telling that to Lois. Jack had left them, and had been gone much longer than they thought, and he'd come back different. Better, Ianto tended to think, but also, on the bad nights, a bit more broken as well. If this rescue mission was what he needed to finally put that awful year to rest, Ianto would help.
"If you've got this," he said.
"Sure."
He went to Jack's office and let himself inside. Jack was looking over a file. "I remember when you used to knock."
"Why am I not on the mission?"
"I don't need you there."
That was probably true. Gwen and Johnson both were better shots. "What's the other reason?"
"I want you coordinating things in case we get into trouble on-site. You're better at arranging emergency diversions than Lois is."
"And?"
"I think those are perfectly good reasons."
"You never mentioned this, not once. I knew you'd been working with Martha and Mickey on something, but you hadn't said what."
"You didn't need to know."
Again, this was likely true. If the operation was as secret as Jack indicated, tipping his hand to anyone who didn't absolutely need to know about it could jeopardise the plan. If anything, he ought to have told Gwen, as his second in command, but Ianto was merely a field agent. Jack hadn't needed to share the details of the investigation with Ianto, so he hadn't shared them.
Jack was behaving like a normal, competent manager. Ianto was at a loss.
"Jack … "
"There's a good chance it's a trap." Jack kept his eyes on the file. Broadfell. "It's the perfect set-up to grab me and Martha. Little breadcrumbs, give us a reason to want to walk in ourselves. If I were making a trap for us, this is exactly how I'd do it."
"Who would set a trap for you?"
A shudder moved through Jack.
"He's dead," said Ianto. "You said so yourself."
"I can't afford to be wrong." He looked at Ianto. "He killed you. In the other timeline." That wasn't a surprise. Bit creepy, to know there was a world where he'd died, that was all. "He made me watch."
"I gathered." He took a breath. "He also killed Gwen, didn't he?"
"Yeah."
But Gwen was going and Ianto was staying behind. The problem with their latest resolution to keep the personal issues at home and the professional issues at work was that this life they led meant the two were entangled within and around each other like a creeping vine that choked itself. Was it a business reason or a personal one for Jack to make this decision, especially when Jack himself was living in terror of a dead man? And what more could Ianto do to reassure him, except perform his tasks and prove that he was alive?
He changed tactics. Fighting Jack wouldn't do any good. "What do you want me to do?"
As he'd guessed, the tension eased from Jack's shoulders. "Two things. Two big things. First, I want you to start setting up a new identity for our target. I'll give you the basics. Put together a good background for her." Ianto nodded. "Keep Lois out of it." Ah. This was going to be more illegal than usual, and Lois was new enough that Jack was still protecting her from the worst of it. "Second, I want you to help me think up a Plan B for when this goes bad."
"Do we have a Plan A yet?"
"You can help on that, too."
***
December 19th
***
Watch …
They drove to the site in two vehicles, and parked them down the road past where Ianto and Lois could find any security cameras. Gwen took charge of the camera-douser for when they ran into more. Mickey had the PDA with the layout of the facility. Martha had her kit and the perception filter. Perry had the scramblers, the lock picks, and the Plenarian device. Jack and Johnson had their guns.
A few precious minutes trickled by as Jack made them look at the blueprint again.
"We ought to wear masks," was the only thing Johnson said.
"We're the good guys," Jack replied. "And they know who we are."
Their dark clothes blended in with the night. Prisons were for people to escape from, not to break into, but still there were lights and guards and cameras. Gwen saw to it that the cameras were blind. Jack led them through the shadows the lights created. Perry turned on the scrambler and hid their footsteps from the ground sensors as they approached the building. The guards never saw them.
Click and blink and click again, and the side door, the servant door, the back way in was clear. "Gwen."
Gwen gave him the camera-douser and found a shadow and hid within it, watching the exit. She was his right hand, holding the back door ajar, and the one he could trust to wait.
In, around, every corner a terror, every sound the snap of the cage shutting, but Mickey's PDA led them like a golden ball of twine, and the tech in their hands kept them invisible. Martha walked beside him, steady and unafraid. Their target might be dead, or wounded, or broken, and Martha was a doctor first. Johnson kept the lookout, and if she didn't shoot the walls or windows out of nerves, they were going to make it through this just fine.
An alarm sounded.
Jack looked at the first doorway he saw. "In there," he whispered, sweeping them into what he hoped was an empty room.
His heart raced, and he sweated under his clothes. It was the Master. It was a trap. He'd been found out, and he'd be dragged back there, and this time there would be no reset, only endless days of pain and watching the people he loved die over and over …
"Jack?"
Martha's hand was on his shoulder, and her eyes were steady.
"Jack, it's not him. Come back. We need you here."
And after a long moment of misery, he believed her.
***
Gwen's eyes went wide when the alarm rang out. Her impulse was to run, but she forced herself deeper into the shadow.
She touched her ear.
***
Two sets of alarms, just offset by a fraction of a second, played over the speakers at the Hub.
"Can you hear?" Gwen breathed, as Jack hissed, "We've been spotted."
Lois was already in front of her station, scanning the security feeds they'd hacked into at the prison. "It's an external alarm. Gwen, it's your position. They must have reset the ground sensors." It had been a risk.
Gwen swore.
"Go," said Jack, and the sound of Gwen's comm flicked off. Lois could picture her running, her path away from the cars and the prison. The ground was frozen and cold, but there hadn't yet been snow. Her footprints would be hidden.
Lois typed as fast as she could, uploading the file of a darting rabbit to the prison's server. The angle wasn't going to be perfect, but it was dark and grainy, and might be enough.
The alarm still came from Jack's open comm.
She looked at Rupesh. "Plan B."
***
Everything was down to breaths now. Jack listened to his people around him. Johnson stood completely still. Mickey tried and failed to keep himself from bouncing nervously on his feet. Martha took in long, deep breaths and waited, but she had done this many times before and was used to the perception filter. Perry was clearly terrified, but kept looking to Jack for what to do next, and all there was to do was wait.
***
From where she'd run, heart pounding and lungs burning in the cold air, Gwen could just spy the car pulling round right in front of the prison gate, could watch as the two figures within stepped out and approached. Then she had to keep running.
***
The alarm shut off.
Jack waited another two full minutes, just in case.
***
It was late, too late to be chasing more damned rabbits. Ever since they'd installed this new system, they'd had plenty of rabbits, and mice, and rats, and cats, and once a damned Rotweiller, it was a nuisance, and the matron resented it.
Everything about this job was a nuisance. Open a wing, bring in some drudge of a woman who'd had enough and knocked her two-fisted husband down once and for all, and transfer her out again. House some slip of a gel who wasn't bright enough to make her boyfriend use a condom, wasn't fast enough to get to the doctor for a termination, but could plan how to stash a tiny body in a skip miles from her house, and then she's gone in a week to the new facility. The only constant was the prisoner in the new wing, another husband-killer it said on her record, but her record said her name was Allison Frye, and not once had the matron ever seen that name come up from a trial or a newspaper clipping. Feed her, keep her, don't ask questions about her. Someone needed her alive.
Bloody nuisance.
And now there were two annoying, smiling idiots sent by the Board of Governors (probably that new Governor, that smirking blonde, what was her name, the matron couldn't remember) here for a scheduled late night inspection.
"Hi!" they said in tandem, bright with their own mediocrity.
The matron had forgotten the appointment, but there it was on her calendar, all verified, probably made by that awful Trefusis woman, who was home now and asleep, warm in her bed, not a night guard, oh no. The identification the smiling idiots carried matched the names for the appointment. The large set of forms the man pulled out of his briefcase bespoke hours of paperwork yet to be for her nuisance of a job with her nuisance of a prisoner.
"We'll need your full cooperation," he said. The accent said Wales, but the attitude said bloody middle manager sent to make her life even more miserable.
The matron was really beginning to hate this place.
She shoved a smile onto her own face. "I'm sure we'll be as cooperative as possible."
"I'm sure," said Tish.
***
The lock picks easily opened the cell door. The lone prisoner was asleep, and Jack wondered what she dreamt of. Then he knelt by the small bed and shook her shoulder.
Her eyes opened in confusion, and he put a finger to his lips. "You called. We came." He glanced up at Martha, who bent beside him swiftly, and even as the prisoner woke further, checked her over clinically.
"She's fine."
"Good." He stood. "Ready to go?"
She swung her legs out from under the blankets. Gone were the pretty suits and the voluptuous gowns. Lucy wore tracksuit bottoms and a tank top, her once-long hair cut short and left a bit dirty. But her eyes were bright and clear now that she'd shaken off her sleep, and free of madness.
"Oh," he said, remembering Perry. "Say cheese!"
***
The inspection included a tour of the facility. Both inspectors lost their perky gleam at the notion, and the matron would rather skip it than trudge through these dark corridors again, but the inspections always included the physical tour, and if she was going to have to deal with one, she was bloody well going to do it right.
She picked her two least-favourite guards to join them, reasoning that no-one should be enjoying their evening, and watched with delight as the two guards flanked the pissant inspectors.
"This is the old wing. We don't use it anymore."
Just then she heard a noise, and she stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a movement, heard a gasp, but she didn't see anything in the hallways, and the guards saw nothing at all. The inspectors watched the darkness with her.
She decided to poke them. "Some of the guards think there are ghosts here." She turned on the woman and said, "Boo!"
The woman let out a little nervous laugh. The man's eyes watched the empty corridor, and then turned back to the matron. "Shall we continue?"
The matron let herself enjoy her victory as she heard the woman lean in close to her partner and whisper, "You owe me so much for this."
They reached the prisoner's cell, the only one occupied just now. Bloody stupid idea keeping the prison open for one inmate. As they approached, the matron noticed how the woman shot nervous looks at the man, and he himself seemed uncertain. For a moment, she wondered if they knew who Allison Frye really was, and what she'd done to merit such special treatment. She wondered if they'd tell her.
Then the key was in the lock, and the door swung wide open. Allison sat up in her bunk, an unusually happy smile on her face.
"As you can see," said the matron, "she's fine."
***
"It's a simulation," Jack had said, and Perry had drunk up the information for later. Torchwood could copy people, with the right equipment. It wasn't a good copy, and it wouldn't fool someone for long, but once a man named Harper had been duplicated and the team hadn't noticed for hours.
"There's a physical form created," Ianto had said. "You can interact with it, talk to it, but it can only repeat a few phrases."
"But it's not real," Gwen had said. "It's a bit horrible, if you think about it."
The Plenarians had used it to send messages, like a recording. Their tech had immediately been stolen by neighbouring species and used as sexual devices, according to Jack, but Perry was learning that Jack always said that.
***
"Thank you, matron," said Allison's voice. "I'm very tired."
***
Johnson had remained out of the cell, and it was only when they were through the building, and outside walking back in the frigid air that she finally got a good look at the prisoner they'd rescued.
"I know you," she said, and then wished herself silent as Jack glared.
The woman nodded, and huddled more deeply into the jacket she'd been given.
Four miles away from the prison, the car carrying Captain Harkness, Dr. Jones and the prisoner took an exit Johnson didn't recognise, while their own car continued onwards. "Where are they going?"
Cooper said, "They'll meet us later," which wasn't an answer at all.
***
The inspectors cut their visit short after a call from their supervisor. Mr. Agarwal sounded cross, and the matron was only too glad to see the backs of them.
***
Rupesh rang off. Lois nodded at him, and uploaded the dummy files to replace the prison's footage of Ianto and Letitia. They were never there.
She saved her own copy of the original file just in case.
***
"She helped murder over a billion people." Tish had been quiet on the drive to the prison. This was the first she'd spoken since they'd left. "Six hundred million died the first hour. The Toclafane cut down more every day, for resisting, for no reason at all. Whole countries burned."
In his mind's eye, Ianto tried and failed to imagine the scope. He could throw around terms like millions and billions, but when it got down to it, his mental picture was fuzzy over a thousand. Who could visualise a million and mean it? A billion? Ground to death under a patent leather heel?
"They killed my brother."
Her words were very nearly devoid of expression. It hadn't happened. Jack and Martha had made it not happen, just like Ianto's death. But the loss was sharper now, personal. A billion dead were a number. Martha and Tish's brother had a face. Ianto had met Leo at the wedding.
"I'm sorry."
"It was some soldiers. They were supposed to bring him in alive, but someone didn't hear the order, or didn't care. It was fast. The Master brought the soldiers to the ship. It wasn't fast for them. He'd been practising, you see."
And then his mental picture was crystal clear. "On Jack."
"Perfect test subject." She looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped. Jack hadn't said much about what had happened to him, though his dropped asides and occasional nightmares had provided enough framework for Ianto to fill in the rest on his own.
"That was the Master, not … " he flailed for a moment; 'Lucy' was too informal for a woman he'd never met, and 'Mrs. Saxon' seemed grotesque, considering she'd shot Mr. Saxon, "her."
He noticed that she was speeding up the car a bit. They were going to rendezvous with the others, but apparently it would be sooner rather than later.
"She helped him come to power. She laughed when he started the killing. She went to prison for his murder, but it's the one decent thing she did, and a damned shame she didn't do it a year sooner."
He'd only met Tish once before tonight, so he had no way of knowing how tight a rein she was keeping on her emotions, or of where her breaking point might be. He thought maybe she was close. The Master had tortured and killed Jack. God alone knew what he'd done to the other prisoners. Jack had said they were all prisoners together, though, Martha's family and the Doctor and himself, and Lucy Saxon as well. He'd said it was hell.
"I'm sorry," he said again, and meant it.
***
The wind bit sharply through her coat, and Martha wrapped it close around herself. She knew she wasn't showing yet, but she kept imagining she was, that her coat fit more tightly, and her trousers, and everything. She was aware of the feel of the cloth, different than it was yesterday, looser than it would be tomorrow.
Jack had a large envelope in his hand. "Start practising your new name while you're on the ferry. By the time you reach the airport, you'll need to respond like you've had it all your life."
Lucy nodded, and Martha felt a small surge of sympathy. Everyone was starting a new life, it seemed.
More cars came and went from the car park, and Martha kept an eye open. When she saw his car, she smiled. Tom got out, clicked his key to make the little beeping noise as the locks engaged, and hurried to where they waited. "Sorry, I got away as soon as I could."
"It's fine," Martha said, and she tiptoed up to kiss him, at first lightly, until he pressed in for more. He would be gone again for days. But after this, he was back. He was staying.
The least prudish person in several galaxies cleared his throat, and Martha stepped back. "Don't you start," she said.
Tom shook Jack's hand, and then shook Lucy's. "It's good to meet you."
Martha blinked away the memories of watching him die. He was alive, here, now. They were going to have a baby. This was the timeline that mattered.
"Is everything in place?" Tom asked Jack.
"I put my best person in charge of creating her new identity. The tickets are in the envelope. We even packed her a bag." He indicated the floral-print valise, and Martha was never going to ask if Jack had made Ianto pack the ladies' clothes and toiletries.
Tom turned to Lucy, or Carol, as her new name was going to be. "Have they explained where we're going?"
"You're a doctor. You go to places where they need doctors. I'm going with you."
He smiled. God, Martha loved his smiles. "They need doctors, and nurses, and people willing to help. Do you know first aid?"
"I learned in the Guides."
"That's a start, then. You'll pick up more." He glanced at Jack. "You should know, where we're going isn't the safest place in the world. The opposite, really. Women and children are our usual patients, and our clinic has been targeted before for violence."
Martha knew all this. She'd gone with him to the clinics, and the little hospitals. Saying that women and children were their usual patients was a genteel way of avoiding talking about what they were being treated for, and how much violence. But they'd all seen more pain, even if Tom didn't remember it, and this was somewhere they could help.
Maybe Lucy understood, maybe she just knew there was no other option in front of her. "I'm ready."
More cars were parking, arriving for the ferry even as boarding began. Two figures made their way towards them, and she saw Jack's hand go for his gun before he relaxed. Tish and Ianto came into view.
Jack said, "You were supposed to meet us at the rendezvous point." Ianto shrugged, but he hadn't been the one who got out of the driver's side of Tish's car. Martha didn't miss the mild look of relief that crossed Jack's face and was hidden again; he'd been worried that Plan B might be the trap after all.
"I wanted to say goodbye," Tish said. She took Tom's hands and gave him a kiss on his cheek with a sweet, absent smile. "Have a safe trip."
"We will."
Then Tish let go of Tom's hands, and with the same slight smile, she punched Lucy.
She turned to Martha. "I'm ready to go now."
***
After the rendezvous, and the thanks, and the hugs, two cars went back towards London, and two to Cardiff. Ianto waited until he and Jack were in their car and on the road, with Gwen and Johnson following at a saner pace behind them.
He opened his mouth and Jack said, "You should have sent Rupesh."
"He can't do 'underling' well."
"Lois, then."
"I don't think Lois knows how to lie."
Jack looked like he wanted to argue the point, but dropped it. "I didn't want you there."
"I know."
"Was Tish all right?" His voice changed tone as the conversation switched gears.
"She will be, I think. Now."
"Good."
Her words came back to him, had been eating at him. "Jack, she said Lucy helped murder a billion people."
Jack kept driving. "She did."
It was still so strange to try and wrap his head around multiple timelines, but Ianto pushed his thoughts through. "That still happened. Just because you rewrote the timeline doesn't mean she didn't kill them." And you.
"Your point?"
Ianto wanted to know what had happened, the things Jack and Martha left out, the bits he'd guessed. They were both supposed to talk with an analyst, but the appointments kept getting delayed by the Rift, and Ianto had to admit, a bit of apathy. Yes, intellectually he knew professional help might get him to a healthier place about the horrible things that had happened in his own short life, and God knew Jack had experienced lifetimes of shit that would be best excised with intensive therapy. At the same time, Ianto wanted to be the one Jack talked out his demons with, and felt that bringing in an outsider was admitting defeat. Which was probably another sign of how much he ought to keep his appointments after all.
This whole mission had "personal demon" written in thick, black felt pen all over it.
"Why are we helping her?"
"It was the right thing to do." He'd said that before. Ianto wanted to believe him, but had trouble in the light of what Tish had said, and if nothing else, the murder of her husband had not been undone by the unravelling paradox.
"She's a killer."
Jack looked at him. His eyes were old, but kinder than they could have been. "We're all killers, Ianto. We don't get a redo. All we get is a chance to make things better next time for someone else."
Which was not at all a subtle way of reminding Ianto of his own second chance, and it was enough to quiet him for the rest of the ride home.
***
III. Sing the sad of heart to cheer