War Games (2/4)
Title: War Games (2/4)
Author: nancybrown
Artist: madbottoms
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Martha, Lois, Francine, Johnson, Patanjali, OCs
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, Martha/Tom
Warnings: violence, spoilers up through COE (characters only), character death (mostly Jack)
Rating: R
Word Count: 27,600 (7,400 this chapter)
Betas: sariagray and bookwormsarah did tremendous work getting this to coherency, and I thank them. All remaining errors are mine alone.
Summary: Jack takes the team on a cross-training exercise with UNIT.
Notes: Set in a fake third season in which Lois Habiba, Agent Johnson, and Rupesh Patanjali have joined Torchwood. No familiarity with other stories in this series is necessary. Written for tw_bigbang.
Chapter One
***
Chapter Two
***
Jack gave Francine a friendly wave when she came into the room. He'd prefer to sweep her up in a hug, but that could wait. She nodded back to him regally, saving her smile for Martha, who was already on her feet.
"Mum, what are you doing here?"
Colonel Fielding said, "Mr Weeds and Mrs Jones have agreed to observe our exercises. UNIT has worked with Mr Weeds before." Jack bit the inside of his cheek. Mr Weeds had nothing to do with UNIT. He was in the chain of bureaucrats Torchwood was forced to navigate during budget season, and his was the office to which they most often had to resubmit forms when miniscule errors came back circled with red and stamped "Disallowed"; Ianto had invented new swear words to describe the man.
"And Mrs Jones is here as my guest," Jack said. "Our initial observer had to back out at the last minute, and she agreed to take his place." He glanced at Martha, whose expression had frozen.
Fielding said, "Please break into your teams to get acquainted. When you're finished, you may begin work." Everyone stood and began their haphazard human shuffle with coughs and mutters indicating slow movement towards their destinations without wanting to be the first person there.
"Red Team, please meet here," Ianto said, just loud enough to be heard.
Jack began scanning the room for Blue Team, when he found himself pushed up against a wall with two hands at his shirt collar. He was not subsequently snogged within an inch of his life, more was the pity. "Martha?"
She said in a very quiet voice that nonetheless carried in the suddenly-quiet room: "Why did you bring my mother here?"
Jack brought his hands up defensively. "Because she wanted to come?" He shot a look to Francine, who placed a hand on Martha's shoulder.
"Calm down."
"I am calm. You'll be able to tell when I am no longer calm."
Jack went to disagree with her and then dropped that idea quickly. "We were on the phone yesterday when I got the word that my observer couldn't make it."
Mum said, "I offered to come instead. I know about aliens, and I wanted a chance to see you. Tish was supposed to call you and let you know I was on my way."
Martha finally dropped her hold and pretended as though she hadn't grabbed him. Jack himself refused to look around to see who'd just watched the head of Torchwood nearly beaten up by a tiny pregnant woman. The buzz of conversation grew again.
"She called the house instead of my mobile. You were chatting yesterday?" Martha's voice was pleasant but retained that edge of 'I will kill you where you stand, do not think I won't.' Jack knew for a fact that pointing out Lucia had been the same way when she was pregnant would be a fatal mistake.
"I called to thank him for the lovely Christmas present he sent. Martha, if you'd prefer I leave, I can."
"Um," said Jack. He wouldn't stop her, but her absence would leave him in a very bad position.
"I can leave," Francine repeated.
"I don't want you to leave," said Martha. "I was just surprised." She reserved a glare for Jack. "You could have said."
He raised his hands again. "Sorry?"
She sighed, and he took the chance to slip past her and find the rest of his team, who were watching him with varying degrees of amusement. Rupesh's grin was the widest. Jack filed that note away for later. Behind him, Martha was still talking with her mother.
Jack took a good look at his team: three men, three women, Torchwood's keen but wet doctor, and himself. None of the others could be older than twenty-five. He'd done a training exercise with UNIT back when Alex had been in charge, so call it 1997. Everyone standing here would have been children. Jack's own current lover wouldn't have been quite fourteen years old the last time Jack did this, and Jack himself had lived a lot longer than the official years in the interim. He wondered how many of the UNIT personnel he'd worked with back then were even still alive, how many of the people in this room would be alive the next time he played war games with them.
He could feel his expression falter and he reapplied extra charm. "Okay, let's get started. I'd like your names, ranks, and telephone numbers." A few of them laughed. Rupesh rolled his eyes.
He noticed Martha give her mum a hug and then join her own team.
Time to work.
***
Setting Perry up with the research and development department turned out to be more difficult than Ianto had reckoned. There were five other technicians spread out amongst the three teams, but as soon as the time came to break into specialties, the second tech on Red Team began firing questions Perry couldn't answer, and was soon joined by his friends.
Unfortunately, these were questions such as: "What university did you attend?" and when another team member picked up on Perry's military background, "What rank did you hold?"
Perry was self-effacing by nature, and had only been in this century for a few months. His faked personal history would stand up to a solid background search, even by UNIT, but it wasn't as robust under direct questioning. He continued to drop his eyes and tried to hide inside his own clothes. "Sorry, I don't ... "
Ianto knew the false information, had created most of the paper trail himself, but if he jumped in, it would only make things worse. He cringed inwardly in sympathy.
"Excuse me." Lois's polite tone cut across the next question.
The contemptuous expression on the current tech's face, Lieutenant Blickman by the name on his uniform, said volumes about being interrupted by a slight PA with a soft voice. Lois smiled back. "I'm afraid I need to know your name and what level of classified information you're authorised to hear." She poised over her clipboard.
"We're all authorised here. It's in our files."
"Yes, but do you have high enough clearance to access information about Mr Fletcher?" She said Perry's name with a touch of reverence. Ianto followed her lead.
"I'm afraid she's right. We'll need copies of your authorisation documents signed by your commanding officer. Fletcher's credentials are classified as top secret."
Blickman didn't look convinced, but the other faces in the group began regarding Perry a bit more speculatively. Perry himself straightened up and even offered a quiet smirk.
"If we could get on with the training," he said. "We have some things to show you."
Ianto didn't miss the grateful look Perry gave Lois as the two of them headed away. When they were in the corridor, he told her, "That was quick thinking."
"Not really. I came up with it last night after the Colonel was asking about him." She seemed pleased with herself, though. "Are they going to be like this the whole time?"
"Like what?"
"Pricks." It was always funny when Lois swore.
"They're just taking the piss. If you let them get to you, they win. Don't worry, we'll get ours."
He was due to join the other field agents at the firing range, but he wanted to ensure Lois was properly introduced to her own counterpart first. He led her to the office of one Mitchell de la Paz, and held the door. The desk was empty when they went inside, but Ianto could hear someone rummaging around in the adjoining room. "Mitch, stop wanking and come out here."
There was a laugh, and a moment later, a corporal in fatigues joined them. "I was wondering when you'd drop by." He shook hands with Ianto. "You must be Lois." He shook her hand just as politely. UNIT did take their harassment policies more seriously than Torchwood did.
"Pleased to meet you." Lois had spoken to him on the phone twice, but mainly they had communicated via email. Mitch was Ianto's favourite contact person in UNIT, the only one who understood exactly what it was like to be responsible for getting things organised and making sure they were done correctly and on time whilst everyone else got on with the business of saving the world.
Mitch said, "I don't think I congratulated you properly on your promotion. You left us behind, mate."
"You know the way it goes. They promote you to where they can keep a better eye on you. Now I'll have to use Lois to continue my plan to overthrow Torchwood."
Mitch laughed, and after a moment, Lois did too.
***
Martha watched her mother leave with Colonel Fielding for a private tour of the grounds. Mum already fit in with her surroundings as if she belonged here, nodding genially at the young soldiers. If Martha didn't know better, she'd easily believe Mum was a real inspector, come to oversee the training. She felt as nervous as she had when Mum had volunteered in the classroom when Martha was eight. Any minute, Mum would berate the Colonel for giving Martha low marks, and Martha would sink right through the floor.
She'd get Jack back for this later.
Martha put on a professional face as she showed Rupesh the medical facilities. They were due to meet up with the exobiology experts in fifteen minutes. "You'll be familiar with most of this. UNIT doesn't have all of Torchwood's gadgets, but we're well-stocked."
Rupesh bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked around eagerly, head bobbing in politeness to the medical staff as Martha made introductions. "This is all still pretty new to me," he said, hand floating over a deep-tissue scanner. It wasn't quite as high-tech as the Bekaran scanner, and Martha still wanted to talk Jack into loaning that to UNIT for study, but theirs was dead useful.
"You never get over the 'Wow!' factor," Martha said with a smile. "I spent over a year working with and for the Doctor, and I still get amazed over what we find." She led him to a med suite to check out the standard set-up. If anyone during the exercise was injured, the two of them would be expected to deal with it here. Martha had privately stocked a bag with a few handy items in case of bruises, breaks, or worse.
"Jack doesn't talk about the Doctor much."
"He wouldn't." For a moment, she recalled a man so desperate to see the Doctor again he held on to the end of the universe. She'd wondered during the long year after if that would be her one day, literally clinging to someone who couldn't stand the sight of her.
Martha put on a fake smile and changed the subject. "Now, I know you've never seen one of these before."
"What is it?"
She held out her hands. "As far as we can tell, it's a temporally-displaced diagnostic tool. It doesn't just tell you if you're sick today, it's calibrated to give you the likelihood of developing cancer, diabetes, or other debilitating diseases on a five-year spectrum."
His eyes lit up, just as hers had. "Is it accurate?"
"The researchers say yes."
"You?"
"Well, I've been around enough to wonder if it predicts your disease or gives one to you."
Rupesh's hands dropped from the scanner instantly, and Martha laughed inside her head.
***
Jack had been expecting this, but anticipation did nothing to prevent his gut-clench when he saw Sergeant Trent waiting for him on his way to the mess. Jack could walk past, no-one would blame him for walking past.
He stopped.
"Captain. May I have a word?"
No, that gut-clench wasn't going anywhere. Jack glanced around, but none of his people were nearby, and fortunately, neither were Francine or Martha. "Sure." He indicated a building, where they could step around the side, and maybe Jack could strangle Trent and have this over with. "Something on your mind, Sergeant?"
"Sir, I ... "
"Don't call me 'sir,'" Jack said sharply. "Personal favour. I only let people I like call me that."
"Yes, Captain." Trent swallowed. This encounter was clearly difficult for him, and Jack wasn't making it easier. He refused to care. Trent said, "I wanted to tell you that I requested to be added to this mission. Don't blame Colonel Fielding."
"Fine. I'll blame you."
Trent nodded. "I thought I could be helpful to you. Make amends."
Jack barked out a painful laugh. Amends? Just thinking about it all made his skin ache with old wounds. "Kill anyone lately, Trent?"
"Not since you." Trent met his eyes, and his voice was steady.
"That's all right then." Jack's voice was full of ice, but the ice wasn't having any effect except to flow back into Jack's veins. He took a deep breath. "You know, this would be a hell of a lot easier if Retcon worked on you."
"You don't think I wish the same thing? How much was in that last dose you gave me? I was out for most of the next day."
"A lot. I wanted to be sure the second time. Not sure I trust that first batch I whipped up."
"Everyone else's held. It was so strange, talking to the others and them having no idea what happened. I'm sure you tested them like you did me. Invited them for a quiet drink, smiled and flirted for a bit, and if they didn't recognise you, cut them loose again. Am I right?"
Jack shrugged. Someone had to do the cleanup work. "Perkins blabbed about Project Indigo to me, can you believe it?" Perkins had shot Jack in the face once. He could still remember the feeling of his teeth growing back.
"He never could hold his booze. I'm not him. I can keep secrets."
"Good for you. Keep them somewhere else, away from me and away from my team." Jack's fingers itched. He'd gladly pummel Trent into the ground, into the wall, smash his face in and wipe the blood off his knuckles. "Martha doesn't recognise you, 'cause she only knew you for about an hour. But her mother is here on the base."
Trent paled. "What? Why?"
"Because I invited her. And if she sees you, she's going to remember you, and then things are going to be very bad for everyone. Now, I love Francine, and I know she's a much better person than I'm ever going to be, but I'm not sure you'll walk out of that room alive if she sets her mind otherwise, and I will not stop her." An overstatement, perhaps. Letitia had helped rescue Lucy Saxon, and for all that the madwoman had inflicted on them, Tish had merely punched her in the face. But Francine had gone for a gun, once.
"I never hurt her, nor her daughters." Trent had not been on the team that killed Leo, either.
"Would you have if he gave you the order?"
Trent dropped his eyes.
"That's what I thought." Jack's nightmares rarely included Trent's face, just his gun. The times he'd shot Jack were the more pleasant memories. But the Master had found Jack's team, and his family. "Stay away from them all. You get one warning, and this was it."
"I understand."
Jack's hadn't been the only family tracked down, and he could spare a small amount of pity. "How's your daughter?"
Trent's mouth formed a hard smile. "Growing up. Her mother left me. Said I wasn't the same, and I couldn't tell her, could I?" He took a shaky breath. "How's yours?"
"Alive."
Trent nodded. "I'm sure you don't believe me, but I'm glad to hear that."
"If I ever find out you're even in the same city with her, you won't have time for another warning."
Jack's fingers itched more. Just one punch, just one squeeze of this man's neck. That was all he wanted. And he couldn't, not and deal with himself tomorrow. Trent hadn't been the worst of them by far, merely a man doing a horrifying job because he'd been cowed by what the Master would order the Toclafane to do to his own family.
Trent could have refused, could have said he wouldn't shoot Jack in the head again, could have refrained from dragging a terrified, weeping Toshiko into the boiler room for the Master to break. He could have done more than stand by idly when person after person Jack loved was murdered. One of the UNIT soldiers guarding Jack had refused to help, had of course died for it, and the Master had made a messy example of the soldier's grandmother. Jack could hate Trent for following an order to bludgeon someone to death, but had the man refused, it would have been Trent's own child next. Jack reserved his killing anger for those who'd helped happily, mean little men promised power for the discount price of selling out their fellow humans. Down in the bowels of the ship, Jack hadn't met many of these. The gossip Tish brought was enough, that and the shuddering horror on her face. "He was here again," she'd say but she never needed to, Jack could read her moods like the books he wasn't permitted. "The Weasel."
The Weasel was the worst of a select, bad crowd, an ugly (Jack thought, he'd never seen the man's face) gash on humanity's soul who tallied up the slaves to build the Master's rockets, who implemented the day-to-day horrors. The Weasel drew up plans for the relocation camps, with the Master's happy approval, and the Weasel cut off supplies, starving them. Tish heard from one of the guards that when the refugees were hungriest, the Master sent in his pets to cut down half the survivors and leave them to choose between cannibalism and death.
Maybe it was just rumour. Jack hoped it was just rumour.
And then he wouldn't even giggle. A mad giggle, a chuckle, something to show he was clearly as insane as the Master. Jack could have comprehended that. But Tish said the Weasel only ever got this little smile, pleased at a job well accomplished. He hadn't been on the Valiant when the reset occurred, and had his memories of that year rolled back along with everyone else. The bastard was alive somewhere, and Jack didn't even know his name.
Comparatively speaking, Trent was just some poor bastard who couldn't be Retconned.
"Sir, I mean, Captain?"
Jack's eyes snapped back to Trent's face, and he realised his own breathing was laboured, quick. He had the stink of the boiler room in his nose, and his wrists ached.
"Are you all right?"
Jack said, "Go. I'm not going to kill you today. But I meant what I said."
"Yes, Captain. Thank you." Trent scuttled away, shoulders hunched against what were surely horrible memories of his own.
Jack had lost his appetite. He made himself go anyway, catching sight of his team as he entered the mess. He took a bottle of water and joined them.
"What? No-one's sitting with their new best friends?"
The expressions he received in return were enough of an answer. He sat across from Ianto, who put his own fork down and took in Jack's water. "Not hungry?"
"I want to keep sharp for the exercise this afternoon." He took a long gulp, and checked out Ianto's utterly unconvinced expression. "How'd your mornings go, people?"
Rupesh launched into descriptions of the new medical tech Martha had shown him, while Perry asked questions. Jack smiled and nodded in the right places, but from time to time he caught Ianto watching him.
***
To the surprise of no-one, Colonel Fielding came in halfway through lunch to announce an alien spaceship had just crash landed, conveniently a few miles from their current position in the wilderness surrounding the base. Rupesh made an effort at mock surprise, which he stopped the second he noticed he was the only one.
"Work with your teams," said Fielding. "In the spirit of inter-agency cooperation, share what information you can. But remember, we've had reports of infiltration by aliens who look like humans, so everyone be on your guards."
Martha saw her mother walk in to stand beside the Colonel, joined by Mr Weeds. Before she could offer Mum a ride to the site, Fielding had turned with a pleasant smile and an extended arm to carry the observers to the site in his own jeep. Mum had begged off lunch with her as well, in order to dine with Fielding.
Martha frowned.
"Problem?" Jack asked, gathering together Blue Team for the journey.
"I think Colonel Fielding is hitting on my mum."
Jack glanced over, quickly noticing the smiles. "Looks like."
"But that's weird."
"Why? Your mum's hot."
Something more disturbing than the Colonel's interest in her mother asserted itself. Martha's head spun, and hers wasn't the only one. "Tell me you never did."
"Never did what?"
"Never mind. I don't want to know." She joined Johnson and Lois. "Ready?"
Lois smiled worriedly. Johnson said, "This is stupid. And yes."
***
Colonel Fielding kept the flattery polite, unsuccessful in his attempt to mimic what he thought must be Jack's secret to winning favour, meanwhile not opening himself up to charges of harassing the civilians. Francine wasn't fooled, but she did let herself enjoy the attention. Mr Weeds seemed less impressed, but Francine had pegged him early on as a lost cause.
Fielding drove the jeep himself, pointing out buildings. "That's the armoury," he said, indicating a large, square brick structure set back from the road, with extra guards posted outside. "UNIT has access to the most advanced weapons technology on Earth. We don't keep it all here, naturally." He laughed at his own poor joke.
"Naturally." Francine read the signs on the buildings, but most were labelled with alphabetical indicators rather than names. She recognised what appeared to be a hangar. "What's in there?"
"More research and development, ma'am. Cutting-edge work in aeronautics and engine design."
"To what end?" This was from Mr Weeds. "Will the designs be used for military work?"
"Defence of the planet from extraterrestrial threats, UNIT's mission from day one."
"As is Torchwood's," said Mr Weeds. "It does make one wonder why we require the duplication of effort."
Francine decided she didn't like Mr Weeds.
Their jeep arrived at the "crash" at the same time as the rest of the teams. Francine had a notebook in which to record her own findings. What no-one had explained except in the most passing manner was what her findings ought to be. Yes, she knew about aliens. She'd been tricked and imprisoned by one, and allowed to keep her memories after. None of that qualified her for observing professional alien-hunters, especially when one of them was her daughter. Jack had sworn it would be fine.
Martha stood back as the UNIT soldiers and Jack's people swarmed over the site and the spaceship. Francine walked over to her. "What's going on?"
"Right now? They're surveying the crash, looking for survivors and live sources of radiation or other power." She twisted her head. "Ooo, that one's being too eager."
Francine followed her gaze. A fresh-faced youth in UNIT fatigues opened a panel in the side of the ship. "Why do you say?"
"I watched him. He didn't scan first."
"Well, it's not a real ship."
"It is a real ship." Martha traced out the shape of the hull with her finger. "See the way the nacelles hang out to the sides? One's on the other side, you can't see it. The Derlax are the only ones nearby who use that sort of technology."
Francine stared at Martha, more fascinated by the fact that her lovely, intelligent, seemingly normal little girl had grown up to be an expert about spaceships. "Of course. Silly me. The Derlax."
The panel came open. The soldier screeched as blue dye sprayed all over his face and shirt. The others scrambled over to see what had happened, some of them turning away to laugh. Jack's laugh was the easiest to pick out.
"Excuse me," Martha said, and she walked over to the soldier. "Sergeant Wren, right?"
"Right, ma'am," he said, sheepish under his blue paint.
Martha looked him up and down. "In my professional opinion, this man is dead." She nodded to her colleague, that Torchwood doctor. "Dr Patanjali, would you care to confirm my diagnosis?"
Patanjali made a show of walking over and taking Wren's wrist to look for a pulse. He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for him." More chuckles followed the sergeant as he reported to Colonel Fielding to be relieved from the rest of the training.
"That's Blue Team down one technician," said someone. Oh yes, Jack's fellow. They'd come to the wedding together, along with another of Martha's friends from Torchwood and her husband. Jack had been maddeningly unforthcoming with exactly how to refer to his own Plus One, though Francine had burned with curiosity. Ianto had been polite, and Martha liked him, and Jack seemed happy. That was what mattered.
"He will be sorely missed," Jack said back. "We'll toast his memory tonight. Wren, you're buying." This earned another round of laughs.
"Are you going to make a note?" Martha asked.
"Hm?"
"About Wren. Not that I'd like to give my team an extra nudge, but he went against protocol and died."
"So he did." Francine wrote Blue team, one casualty due to lack of attention. Another two technicians approached the panel. One had a scanning device in his hand, and was examining the readings. The other reached inside.
"Hold on," said the first, "let me take a reading."
"Wren already activated the booby trap here."
"Yes, but ... "
There was a second explosion of blue dye.
***
The teams returned to the base some hours later, seven of them much bluer. On-board the alien craft had been two "survivors" who'd attacked the first exploratory group with paintballs. Jack was one of them, which then required a discussion amongst Fielding and the civilian observers, who voted two to one that, given Captain Harkness's unique circumstances, he was unlikely to be dead now.
The "alien" survivors had been captured, and Lois rode in the lorry carrying them back to base, which was much better than riding in the lorry where Ianto was failing not to have a fit that Jack's coat was covered in blue. Lois handled most of the team's work-related laundry issues, but the care and upkeep of the greatcoat stayed in the hands of someone who knew how to sew.
"You're Torchwood, yeah?" asked one of the aliens.
Lois nodded. "General support, really. I don't do much field work."
"All I do is guard duty," said the alien. He wore a mask that made him look like one of those greys, with great big bug eyes, and a boiler suit not unlike those back in Cardiff. "This was a bit of a break."
"Hey," said the other alien. "Why aren't the Torchwood people dead, then? Wren and Kenny both got blued and had to leave."
"Captain Harkness had special dispensation to stay." UNIT command might be aware of Jack's special circumstances, but she didn't know whom amongst the rank and file needed to know.
"And the other chap?"
Perry had stood back with his scanner when the second panel had exploded all over the other Red Team technician. He'd ducked in time, but she'd observed the harsh looks from the other UNIT soldiers when Kenny had been declared dead and Perry allowed to stay despite a small splatter on one arm.
"I wasn't privy to the decision in his case."
"Bit lucky, though," said the second alien. "No Torchwood casualties but six UNIT deaths. Sound familiar, Arn?"
The first alien, whom Lois presumed to be Arn, shrugged.
Out of the six people sent inside the vessel, only Jack and Johnson had emerged "alive," Jack on his personal technicality, Johnson because she hadn't been shot with the paintballs. She'd retreated to a safer position, and her reinforcements helped subdue the threat.
"It's just the first day."
"We could be infecting you right now," said the second alien. "Sure, we've got handcuffs, and we're under guard," he nodded at the two soldiers riding with them, armed with their normal guns loaded with dye-filled Simunition rounds rather than bullets, "but maybe we've got the Delbation 'flu, right?"
"Yes," said Arn. "Maybe we've got mind control. We could make you lot turn this caravan right around and take us back to our ship."
"You won't get far without the secret bog roll," Lois said. Martha had taken the silver artefact for the Gold Team, but their technician had been careful to deactivate the booby trap inside it first.
The second alien, Lois never did learn his name, laughed evilly. "We'll get your bog roll." His bug eyes stared at her until she looked out the window.
Creep.
Her own card had said human. At least she wasn't a collaborator twice over.
***
Gwen spent the day with the police radio on in the background as she caught up on her own projects. Although she was no longer chasing every missing persons case for Rift victims, she kept a file, part study, part scrapbook, documenting names and faces of the lost. With Jack's blessing, she pulled what records she could find on previous returnees over Torchwood's long and chequered past. Locked in the vaults and forgotten, he'd told her, glossing over the many who'd been euthanized outright.
She'd been able to cross off three names thus far from the list of the missing and add them definitively to the list of the dead.
Gwen wasn't sure why she kept at it. All the current inmates at Flat Holm were named and accounted for. She didn't even have the fantasy of a joyous reunion to give her hope the way she did that first disastrous time with Jonah. At best, she could talk Jack into letting her fake a dead body for a family to mourn, yet none of her three finds even had family members left to care.
Her hand paused over a new face. Lauren Hawes, aged four, had disappeared a week ago from her own garden while her mother had popped inside the house to check on Lauren's infant sister. The police suspected an abduction, but the disappearance coincided too well with a negative spike for Gwen's belief. She couldn't tell that to the constables handling the case, couldn't offer the truth to the stricken family as a harsher comfort. All she could do was give Lauren a page in her notebook, and search through the old records for a returned little girl.
Gwen hoped she could find her.
The Rift alarm startled her from what was about to turn into a good cry. Gwen closed her notes and opened the system. Then she swore. "Rhys, love," she said into her mobile as she ran upstairs to her car, "I'll be home late."
***
***
Rupesh followed the guards into the examination room. Their alien captives were dressed in silly costumes, nothing like real aliens. Rupesh had only been working with real aliens since November, but he'd been preparing to work with Torchwood for months, and he took in their outfits critically.
"This is the best you could come up with?"
Alien One held up his wrists. "Can you loosen these, mate? They're tight." One of the guards -- both of them were Gold Team like Martha -- pulled out his manacle key.
"You won't shoot us with death rays, right?"
Rupesh sighed. He'd tried to get into the spirit of this, really. Torchwood and UNIT would work together to demonstrate their various techniques. But when he got down to it, what was the point of examining a normal human bloke?
"All right, all right," he said. "You in the boiler suit, bend over and cough."
There were a few chuckles, but Rupesh distinctly heard the word "Torchwood" in one of them. He sighed again.
Thank goodness Dr Jones chose that moment to come into the exam room. "How're things here? Have you processed these two dangerous fellows?"
"Not yet. How do you suggest we begin, Doctor?"
"You're the expert." She was playing with him now. "What's your procedure?"
Right. Rupesh took out his diagnostic scanner and ran it over the first alien. "No radiation, normal readings. Bit of hypertension." He glanced up. "You should keep an eye on that."
"Nothing unusual?" Martha asked.
"Not that I see." He took the scanner to the second alien. "Ah, it's giving a species identification, homo sapiens unitus." That got him a smile. "He's fine, too. Would you like to scan him to see if he'll need a new kidney in ten years?"
"I'll pass. Do you think we should dissect them?"
"We'll let the exobiologists do that. Where did they run off to, anyway?"
"The Colonel wanted a word. They'll be along directly." Martha covered a yawn with her hand.
This exercise was entirely pointless. They weren't aliens. The real aliens were back in Cardiff. Rupesh's card had said human, which meant he didn't even get to pretend he was a secret alien spy for fun.
The second alien moved his arms around, and belatedly, Rupesh saw he'd managed to slide his hand into a pocket. Before he could shout, his head filled with a weird ringing noise and he lost his balance. The aliens stayed on their feet, even as Rupesh clutched at the exam table.
"What is that?" Dr Jones asked, even as she fell to her knees, hands to her head.
"It's a stunner, ma'am. Perfectly safe. Sorry. No-one frisked us."
As Rupesh passed out, the second alien took out a large paint grenade and tossed it. The last thing Rupesh saw was blue.
***
Martha's head ached. The second thing she noticed was the pounding. The cold, hard floor under her head was the third, and the stabbing bright lights in her eye the first.
"Ow."
"You'll be all right." Dr Simmons sounded detached but kind. As she woke up, he offered her a hand to move to a sitting position. Rupesh and the two guards were waking up as well. The room was spattered in blue.
"They got us?"
"Not you," said Rupesh, still queasy. "There's only a bit on your leg." Martha glanced down, and sure enough, one sock was lost but the rest of her had escaped.
Her hand went to her abdomen. "What did they use? Has it been tested?"
"It's a neural stunner," said Simmons. "They've been testing it over in R&D."
"If my baby is born with three heads, I'm going to punch someone in R&D." A shudder moved through her, and she held out an arm to steady herself even as she sat. There was no possible way that device had been safely tested for ante natal use, dammit.
Ten seconds later, she heard shouting in the outer corridor. Jack was giving someone, probably Colonel Fielding, a very hard time. She could only hear snatches of actual words, but "What the HELL?" came through clearly.
A minute later, Jack burst into the exam room. Mum wasn't far behind. Jack crouched down between Martha and Rupesh. "Are you two all right?"
"Martha?" asked Mum.
"We're fine," Rupesh said, getting to his feet. "Blue, but fine."
"What the hell were they thinking?" Jack growled. "They could have seriously hurt you, all of you," he added, taking in the two blued guards. "UNIT is supposed to know how to handle technology."
"We do know, Captain," said Simmons.
Jack rounded on him, but before he could open his mouth, Mum got in first. "And how do you handle technology on a foetus? What if your little stun gun caused a miscarriage?"
"Mum, it's fine. I'm fine." Martha got to her feet. The worried looks on her mother's and friend's faces gave her pause. She thought the baby would be all right, but ... "I'll have a quick exam to make sure everything's okay with both of us. I'm already here anyway. All right?"
"Martha, dear, you should sit out the rest of the training exercise."
"No, I shouldn't. This is my job every day."
"Exposed to God knows what, and aliens too. Have you even considered ... "
" ... that I am at work right now and we can have this conversation later? Yes, I've considered that." The words came out sharp but Martha was in no mood to take them back. "If you'll excuse me. Rupesh, Hartley, Flynn, sorry to hear about your sudden deaths."
Martha stormed out.
***
Nothing came over the radio as Gwen approached Church Street once again. No rampaging monsters, unusual medical conditions, or even meteorological anomalies were causing the populace of Cardiff to once again have to ignore all the damn aliens. Which was nice, she supposed. Gwen hated having to come up with cover stories. The "filming a movie" excuse had been one of her best in three years.
Church Street was quiet, but not so quiet she'd worry about mass deaths. Everything pointed to a normal early evening, except for the boarded up window at the end of the street where the Jelly Monster had been. Gwen went into the nearby shops, had a look around the church, chatted up passers-by on the road.
The Rift monitor pinged as if she were standing on the interdimensional version of Chernobyl.
She tapped her ear. "Jack, do you have a minute?"
She waited, and then she heard, "Go ahead."
"I'm back at that same site. The Rift readings are going off the scale, but there's nothing here."
"Have you knocked on doors to ask?"
"No, because I am very stupid."
"What did Mainframe say?"
She summarised the data as best she could, hoping she didn't leave out anything important. Jack said little.
"It looks like this site may become a stable node. But Jack, we haven't seen one of those form in months. Why now?"
His pause went on a long time. "I wish I knew. All right, you're absolutely sure you're not seeing anything?"
Cars went by. The air was chilly, but not unusually so for this time of year. Workers had been to the Thomas & Rose and gone, the other shops and the churchyard appeared normal. "Not even a stray dog."
"Just keep an ear out. When we get back, we'll do a full sweep of the place. Maybe the Rift is gearing up to spit out something big, and this is our early warning. In the meantime, see if you can dig up any earlier incidents in that area. Something's familiar about the place the more you tell me, but I don't know why."
"Right."
The line went dead.
***
Rupesh joined them for supper despite his "death." Ianto would normally be up for teasing him, but refrained. He noticed Jack holding back as well and wondered if he was also uncomfortably reminded of their last dead doctor walking. Less than a year had passed since the night of the bombs. Little things still stung. Then again, reminders of Lisa or his dad stung just as unexpectedly, if with less pain as time went by.
He drank his water.
Jack frowned and tapped his ear. "Go ahead." He stood and walked out of the room. When he returned some minutes later, he didn't bother to hide his worry.
"How's Gwen?"
"She's getting massive readings at the place where we found the jelly alien, but nothing's come through. We may be going home in a hurry."
"Will we have to reschedule?" Lois asked.
"Eventually. Training is training." Jack cut and ate a large bite of roast.
Ianto sat back. Something ticked over in the back of his head, something about the Jelly Monster. "What else did she say?"
Jack shrugged. Fortunately, he swallowed before speaking. "It's got the makings of another permanent node."
"A what?" Johnson rarely looked confused. Angry or sullen, often. Annoyed or weary, oh yes. Evilly amused, only when she showed up someone on something. Confusion was new.
"Places where the Rift opens regularly. Bute Park, that spot on Hope Street, there's a subbasement in an old church that used to spit out something every week like clockwork." Jack smiled distantly. "Every Saturday at four, we'd take the team, wait outside, subdue whatever came through, then knock off for the rest of the weekend. That was, oh, 1952 to 1958. I loved that schedule."
"What does that mean for us?"
"Depends. If it's regular enough, it means we get to chase aliens at teatime. Otherwise, it's just another place to keep an eye on when things go crazy."
After supper, they were supposed to break into their teams for recreation time and to compare notes and suss out more clues. The two fake aliens had stolen the bog roll, but were "shot" by the Red Team, who now had possession. Ianto made Perry carry it. Before he could join his team in the rec area, Ianto felt a very familiar hand at his waist.
"Don't hurry." Jack's breath was warm in his ear. Ianto ought to shrug him off and get back to work. Team building was very important. On the other hand, he and Jack were a team, right? He smirked. "What's that for?" asked Jack, as they sidled into an empty corridor.
"Just making flimsy excuses in my head."
"Been there, done that. Ah. Here we go." Jack's eyes lit up as he surveyed the small supply room he'd located. Of course.
"We shouldn't be gone long. They'll wonder where we are."
Jack's mouth went to his neck. "Then we should stay gone forty minutes at least so they know exactly where we went."
"Mm." The supply room had that dusty, disused appearance common even in high-tech facilities. There always needed to be storage space for extra ringbinders and pens, folding chairs, and all the little fiddly items without which no bureaucracy could function. For Ianto, it was one with a hundred school cupboards, a thousand back office closets. For Jack, it was significantly cheaper than another visit to the sex shop (Jack had provided them seed money back in the 1970s; the clerks had taken to greeting Ianto on sight with fresh recommendations).
He ought to push Jack away. They were technically working, and they had a rule about this.
"We're not at the Hub, we're not out on a mission," said Jack, picking the thoughts right out of Ianto's head. His hands were under Ianto's shirt reaching for skin. "It'll be fine." He met Ianto's mouth for a soft kiss, far more gentle than the press of his palms and the scratch of his blunt nails.
Ianto couldn't place what was missing. His own lips parted against Jack's mouth, brushing his tongue in to sweep against the perfect line of teeth. Jack sighed against him, familiar and sweet. Jack's thigh moved between his legs in just the right way, and Ianto's hand moved automatically to Jack's belt, ready to ease it open and slide inside his trousers.
But something was wrong.
Ianto pulled back his head. "What is it?"
"What's what?"
"Something's bothering you. Something's been bothering you."
Jack rubbed his erection against Ianto's leg. "Now that you mention it, yes, but I was trying to cure the problem."
He bent in for more kissing, but Ianto stopped him with his hand. "What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
Ianto folded his arms. He hated the pose, it reminded him of his Mam scolding Dad. God knew he was having enough problems convincing other people he wasn't "the girl" -- even Gwen implied it sometimes when she knew very well that was completely missing the point -- to invoke his mother right now. But needs must, as Mam often had said.
"I'll be in the rec room." Ianto straightened his clothing, grateful he wasn't hard, and he walked out.
He found the recreation room without difficulty and met up with Perry and the survivors of the Red Team. He was in time to be dealt in for the first hand of an impromptu poker game. Jack came in a minute later, smiled pleasantly, and joined the other Blues.
"Something come up?" Perry asked.
"Nothing important."
***
Chapter Three
Author: nancybrown
Artist: madbottoms
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Martha, Lois, Francine, Johnson, Patanjali, OCs
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, Martha/Tom
Warnings: violence, spoilers up through COE (characters only), character death (mostly Jack)
Rating: R
Word Count: 27,600 (7,400 this chapter)
Betas: sariagray and bookwormsarah did tremendous work getting this to coherency, and I thank them. All remaining errors are mine alone.
Summary: Jack takes the team on a cross-training exercise with UNIT.
Notes: Set in a fake third season in which Lois Habiba, Agent Johnson, and Rupesh Patanjali have joined Torchwood. No familiarity with other stories in this series is necessary. Written for tw_bigbang.
Chapter One
***
Chapter Two
***
Jack gave Francine a friendly wave when she came into the room. He'd prefer to sweep her up in a hug, but that could wait. She nodded back to him regally, saving her smile for Martha, who was already on her feet.
"Mum, what are you doing here?"
Colonel Fielding said, "Mr Weeds and Mrs Jones have agreed to observe our exercises. UNIT has worked with Mr Weeds before." Jack bit the inside of his cheek. Mr Weeds had nothing to do with UNIT. He was in the chain of bureaucrats Torchwood was forced to navigate during budget season, and his was the office to which they most often had to resubmit forms when miniscule errors came back circled with red and stamped "Disallowed"; Ianto had invented new swear words to describe the man.
"And Mrs Jones is here as my guest," Jack said. "Our initial observer had to back out at the last minute, and she agreed to take his place." He glanced at Martha, whose expression had frozen.
Fielding said, "Please break into your teams to get acquainted. When you're finished, you may begin work." Everyone stood and began their haphazard human shuffle with coughs and mutters indicating slow movement towards their destinations without wanting to be the first person there.
"Red Team, please meet here," Ianto said, just loud enough to be heard.
Jack began scanning the room for Blue Team, when he found himself pushed up against a wall with two hands at his shirt collar. He was not subsequently snogged within an inch of his life, more was the pity. "Martha?"
She said in a very quiet voice that nonetheless carried in the suddenly-quiet room: "Why did you bring my mother here?"
Jack brought his hands up defensively. "Because she wanted to come?" He shot a look to Francine, who placed a hand on Martha's shoulder.
"Calm down."
"I am calm. You'll be able to tell when I am no longer calm."
Jack went to disagree with her and then dropped that idea quickly. "We were on the phone yesterday when I got the word that my observer couldn't make it."
Mum said, "I offered to come instead. I know about aliens, and I wanted a chance to see you. Tish was supposed to call you and let you know I was on my way."
Martha finally dropped her hold and pretended as though she hadn't grabbed him. Jack himself refused to look around to see who'd just watched the head of Torchwood nearly beaten up by a tiny pregnant woman. The buzz of conversation grew again.
"She called the house instead of my mobile. You were chatting yesterday?" Martha's voice was pleasant but retained that edge of 'I will kill you where you stand, do not think I won't.' Jack knew for a fact that pointing out Lucia had been the same way when she was pregnant would be a fatal mistake.
"I called to thank him for the lovely Christmas present he sent. Martha, if you'd prefer I leave, I can."
"Um," said Jack. He wouldn't stop her, but her absence would leave him in a very bad position.
"I can leave," Francine repeated.
"I don't want you to leave," said Martha. "I was just surprised." She reserved a glare for Jack. "You could have said."
He raised his hands again. "Sorry?"
She sighed, and he took the chance to slip past her and find the rest of his team, who were watching him with varying degrees of amusement. Rupesh's grin was the widest. Jack filed that note away for later. Behind him, Martha was still talking with her mother.
Jack took a good look at his team: three men, three women, Torchwood's keen but wet doctor, and himself. None of the others could be older than twenty-five. He'd done a training exercise with UNIT back when Alex had been in charge, so call it 1997. Everyone standing here would have been children. Jack's own current lover wouldn't have been quite fourteen years old the last time Jack did this, and Jack himself had lived a lot longer than the official years in the interim. He wondered how many of the UNIT personnel he'd worked with back then were even still alive, how many of the people in this room would be alive the next time he played war games with them.
He could feel his expression falter and he reapplied extra charm. "Okay, let's get started. I'd like your names, ranks, and telephone numbers." A few of them laughed. Rupesh rolled his eyes.
He noticed Martha give her mum a hug and then join her own team.
Time to work.
***
Setting Perry up with the research and development department turned out to be more difficult than Ianto had reckoned. There were five other technicians spread out amongst the three teams, but as soon as the time came to break into specialties, the second tech on Red Team began firing questions Perry couldn't answer, and was soon joined by his friends.
Unfortunately, these were questions such as: "What university did you attend?" and when another team member picked up on Perry's military background, "What rank did you hold?"
Perry was self-effacing by nature, and had only been in this century for a few months. His faked personal history would stand up to a solid background search, even by UNIT, but it wasn't as robust under direct questioning. He continued to drop his eyes and tried to hide inside his own clothes. "Sorry, I don't ... "
Ianto knew the false information, had created most of the paper trail himself, but if he jumped in, it would only make things worse. He cringed inwardly in sympathy.
"Excuse me." Lois's polite tone cut across the next question.
The contemptuous expression on the current tech's face, Lieutenant Blickman by the name on his uniform, said volumes about being interrupted by a slight PA with a soft voice. Lois smiled back. "I'm afraid I need to know your name and what level of classified information you're authorised to hear." She poised over her clipboard.
"We're all authorised here. It's in our files."
"Yes, but do you have high enough clearance to access information about Mr Fletcher?" She said Perry's name with a touch of reverence. Ianto followed her lead.
"I'm afraid she's right. We'll need copies of your authorisation documents signed by your commanding officer. Fletcher's credentials are classified as top secret."
Blickman didn't look convinced, but the other faces in the group began regarding Perry a bit more speculatively. Perry himself straightened up and even offered a quiet smirk.
"If we could get on with the training," he said. "We have some things to show you."
Ianto didn't miss the grateful look Perry gave Lois as the two of them headed away. When they were in the corridor, he told her, "That was quick thinking."
"Not really. I came up with it last night after the Colonel was asking about him." She seemed pleased with herself, though. "Are they going to be like this the whole time?"
"Like what?"
"Pricks." It was always funny when Lois swore.
"They're just taking the piss. If you let them get to you, they win. Don't worry, we'll get ours."
He was due to join the other field agents at the firing range, but he wanted to ensure Lois was properly introduced to her own counterpart first. He led her to the office of one Mitchell de la Paz, and held the door. The desk was empty when they went inside, but Ianto could hear someone rummaging around in the adjoining room. "Mitch, stop wanking and come out here."
There was a laugh, and a moment later, a corporal in fatigues joined them. "I was wondering when you'd drop by." He shook hands with Ianto. "You must be Lois." He shook her hand just as politely. UNIT did take their harassment policies more seriously than Torchwood did.
"Pleased to meet you." Lois had spoken to him on the phone twice, but mainly they had communicated via email. Mitch was Ianto's favourite contact person in UNIT, the only one who understood exactly what it was like to be responsible for getting things organised and making sure they were done correctly and on time whilst everyone else got on with the business of saving the world.
Mitch said, "I don't think I congratulated you properly on your promotion. You left us behind, mate."
"You know the way it goes. They promote you to where they can keep a better eye on you. Now I'll have to use Lois to continue my plan to overthrow Torchwood."
Mitch laughed, and after a moment, Lois did too.
***
Martha watched her mother leave with Colonel Fielding for a private tour of the grounds. Mum already fit in with her surroundings as if she belonged here, nodding genially at the young soldiers. If Martha didn't know better, she'd easily believe Mum was a real inspector, come to oversee the training. She felt as nervous as she had when Mum had volunteered in the classroom when Martha was eight. Any minute, Mum would berate the Colonel for giving Martha low marks, and Martha would sink right through the floor.
She'd get Jack back for this later.
Martha put on a professional face as she showed Rupesh the medical facilities. They were due to meet up with the exobiology experts in fifteen minutes. "You'll be familiar with most of this. UNIT doesn't have all of Torchwood's gadgets, but we're well-stocked."
Rupesh bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked around eagerly, head bobbing in politeness to the medical staff as Martha made introductions. "This is all still pretty new to me," he said, hand floating over a deep-tissue scanner. It wasn't quite as high-tech as the Bekaran scanner, and Martha still wanted to talk Jack into loaning that to UNIT for study, but theirs was dead useful.
"You never get over the 'Wow!' factor," Martha said with a smile. "I spent over a year working with and for the Doctor, and I still get amazed over what we find." She led him to a med suite to check out the standard set-up. If anyone during the exercise was injured, the two of them would be expected to deal with it here. Martha had privately stocked a bag with a few handy items in case of bruises, breaks, or worse.
"Jack doesn't talk about the Doctor much."
"He wouldn't." For a moment, she recalled a man so desperate to see the Doctor again he held on to the end of the universe. She'd wondered during the long year after if that would be her one day, literally clinging to someone who couldn't stand the sight of her.
Martha put on a fake smile and changed the subject. "Now, I know you've never seen one of these before."
"What is it?"
She held out her hands. "As far as we can tell, it's a temporally-displaced diagnostic tool. It doesn't just tell you if you're sick today, it's calibrated to give you the likelihood of developing cancer, diabetes, or other debilitating diseases on a five-year spectrum."
His eyes lit up, just as hers had. "Is it accurate?"
"The researchers say yes."
"You?"
"Well, I've been around enough to wonder if it predicts your disease or gives one to you."
Rupesh's hands dropped from the scanner instantly, and Martha laughed inside her head.
***
Jack had been expecting this, but anticipation did nothing to prevent his gut-clench when he saw Sergeant Trent waiting for him on his way to the mess. Jack could walk past, no-one would blame him for walking past.
He stopped.
"Captain. May I have a word?"
No, that gut-clench wasn't going anywhere. Jack glanced around, but none of his people were nearby, and fortunately, neither were Francine or Martha. "Sure." He indicated a building, where they could step around the side, and maybe Jack could strangle Trent and have this over with. "Something on your mind, Sergeant?"
"Sir, I ... "
"Don't call me 'sir,'" Jack said sharply. "Personal favour. I only let people I like call me that."
"Yes, Captain." Trent swallowed. This encounter was clearly difficult for him, and Jack wasn't making it easier. He refused to care. Trent said, "I wanted to tell you that I requested to be added to this mission. Don't blame Colonel Fielding."
"Fine. I'll blame you."
Trent nodded. "I thought I could be helpful to you. Make amends."
Jack barked out a painful laugh. Amends? Just thinking about it all made his skin ache with old wounds. "Kill anyone lately, Trent?"
"Not since you." Trent met his eyes, and his voice was steady.
"That's all right then." Jack's voice was full of ice, but the ice wasn't having any effect except to flow back into Jack's veins. He took a deep breath. "You know, this would be a hell of a lot easier if Retcon worked on you."
"You don't think I wish the same thing? How much was in that last dose you gave me? I was out for most of the next day."
"A lot. I wanted to be sure the second time. Not sure I trust that first batch I whipped up."
"Everyone else's held. It was so strange, talking to the others and them having no idea what happened. I'm sure you tested them like you did me. Invited them for a quiet drink, smiled and flirted for a bit, and if they didn't recognise you, cut them loose again. Am I right?"
Jack shrugged. Someone had to do the cleanup work. "Perkins blabbed about Project Indigo to me, can you believe it?" Perkins had shot Jack in the face once. He could still remember the feeling of his teeth growing back.
"He never could hold his booze. I'm not him. I can keep secrets."
"Good for you. Keep them somewhere else, away from me and away from my team." Jack's fingers itched. He'd gladly pummel Trent into the ground, into the wall, smash his face in and wipe the blood off his knuckles. "Martha doesn't recognise you, 'cause she only knew you for about an hour. But her mother is here on the base."
Trent paled. "What? Why?"
"Because I invited her. And if she sees you, she's going to remember you, and then things are going to be very bad for everyone. Now, I love Francine, and I know she's a much better person than I'm ever going to be, but I'm not sure you'll walk out of that room alive if she sets her mind otherwise, and I will not stop her." An overstatement, perhaps. Letitia had helped rescue Lucy Saxon, and for all that the madwoman had inflicted on them, Tish had merely punched her in the face. But Francine had gone for a gun, once.
"I never hurt her, nor her daughters." Trent had not been on the team that killed Leo, either.
"Would you have if he gave you the order?"
Trent dropped his eyes.
"That's what I thought." Jack's nightmares rarely included Trent's face, just his gun. The times he'd shot Jack were the more pleasant memories. But the Master had found Jack's team, and his family. "Stay away from them all. You get one warning, and this was it."
"I understand."
Jack's hadn't been the only family tracked down, and he could spare a small amount of pity. "How's your daughter?"
Trent's mouth formed a hard smile. "Growing up. Her mother left me. Said I wasn't the same, and I couldn't tell her, could I?" He took a shaky breath. "How's yours?"
"Alive."
Trent nodded. "I'm sure you don't believe me, but I'm glad to hear that."
"If I ever find out you're even in the same city with her, you won't have time for another warning."
Jack's fingers itched more. Just one punch, just one squeeze of this man's neck. That was all he wanted. And he couldn't, not and deal with himself tomorrow. Trent hadn't been the worst of them by far, merely a man doing a horrifying job because he'd been cowed by what the Master would order the Toclafane to do to his own family.
Trent could have refused, could have said he wouldn't shoot Jack in the head again, could have refrained from dragging a terrified, weeping Toshiko into the boiler room for the Master to break. He could have done more than stand by idly when person after person Jack loved was murdered. One of the UNIT soldiers guarding Jack had refused to help, had of course died for it, and the Master had made a messy example of the soldier's grandmother. Jack could hate Trent for following an order to bludgeon someone to death, but had the man refused, it would have been Trent's own child next. Jack reserved his killing anger for those who'd helped happily, mean little men promised power for the discount price of selling out their fellow humans. Down in the bowels of the ship, Jack hadn't met many of these. The gossip Tish brought was enough, that and the shuddering horror on her face. "He was here again," she'd say but she never needed to, Jack could read her moods like the books he wasn't permitted. "The Weasel."
The Weasel was the worst of a select, bad crowd, an ugly (Jack thought, he'd never seen the man's face) gash on humanity's soul who tallied up the slaves to build the Master's rockets, who implemented the day-to-day horrors. The Weasel drew up plans for the relocation camps, with the Master's happy approval, and the Weasel cut off supplies, starving them. Tish heard from one of the guards that when the refugees were hungriest, the Master sent in his pets to cut down half the survivors and leave them to choose between cannibalism and death.
Maybe it was just rumour. Jack hoped it was just rumour.
And then he wouldn't even giggle. A mad giggle, a chuckle, something to show he was clearly as insane as the Master. Jack could have comprehended that. But Tish said the Weasel only ever got this little smile, pleased at a job well accomplished. He hadn't been on the Valiant when the reset occurred, and had his memories of that year rolled back along with everyone else. The bastard was alive somewhere, and Jack didn't even know his name.
Comparatively speaking, Trent was just some poor bastard who couldn't be Retconned.
"Sir, I mean, Captain?"
Jack's eyes snapped back to Trent's face, and he realised his own breathing was laboured, quick. He had the stink of the boiler room in his nose, and his wrists ached.
"Are you all right?"
Jack said, "Go. I'm not going to kill you today. But I meant what I said."
"Yes, Captain. Thank you." Trent scuttled away, shoulders hunched against what were surely horrible memories of his own.
Jack had lost his appetite. He made himself go anyway, catching sight of his team as he entered the mess. He took a bottle of water and joined them.
"What? No-one's sitting with their new best friends?"
The expressions he received in return were enough of an answer. He sat across from Ianto, who put his own fork down and took in Jack's water. "Not hungry?"
"I want to keep sharp for the exercise this afternoon." He took a long gulp, and checked out Ianto's utterly unconvinced expression. "How'd your mornings go, people?"
Rupesh launched into descriptions of the new medical tech Martha had shown him, while Perry asked questions. Jack smiled and nodded in the right places, but from time to time he caught Ianto watching him.
***
To the surprise of no-one, Colonel Fielding came in halfway through lunch to announce an alien spaceship had just crash landed, conveniently a few miles from their current position in the wilderness surrounding the base. Rupesh made an effort at mock surprise, which he stopped the second he noticed he was the only one.
"Work with your teams," said Fielding. "In the spirit of inter-agency cooperation, share what information you can. But remember, we've had reports of infiltration by aliens who look like humans, so everyone be on your guards."
Martha saw her mother walk in to stand beside the Colonel, joined by Mr Weeds. Before she could offer Mum a ride to the site, Fielding had turned with a pleasant smile and an extended arm to carry the observers to the site in his own jeep. Mum had begged off lunch with her as well, in order to dine with Fielding.
Martha frowned.
"Problem?" Jack asked, gathering together Blue Team for the journey.
"I think Colonel Fielding is hitting on my mum."
Jack glanced over, quickly noticing the smiles. "Looks like."
"But that's weird."
"Why? Your mum's hot."
Something more disturbing than the Colonel's interest in her mother asserted itself. Martha's head spun, and hers wasn't the only one. "Tell me you never did."
"Never did what?"
"Never mind. I don't want to know." She joined Johnson and Lois. "Ready?"
Lois smiled worriedly. Johnson said, "This is stupid. And yes."
***
Colonel Fielding kept the flattery polite, unsuccessful in his attempt to mimic what he thought must be Jack's secret to winning favour, meanwhile not opening himself up to charges of harassing the civilians. Francine wasn't fooled, but she did let herself enjoy the attention. Mr Weeds seemed less impressed, but Francine had pegged him early on as a lost cause.
Fielding drove the jeep himself, pointing out buildings. "That's the armoury," he said, indicating a large, square brick structure set back from the road, with extra guards posted outside. "UNIT has access to the most advanced weapons technology on Earth. We don't keep it all here, naturally." He laughed at his own poor joke.
"Naturally." Francine read the signs on the buildings, but most were labelled with alphabetical indicators rather than names. She recognised what appeared to be a hangar. "What's in there?"
"More research and development, ma'am. Cutting-edge work in aeronautics and engine design."
"To what end?" This was from Mr Weeds. "Will the designs be used for military work?"
"Defence of the planet from extraterrestrial threats, UNIT's mission from day one."
"As is Torchwood's," said Mr Weeds. "It does make one wonder why we require the duplication of effort."
Francine decided she didn't like Mr Weeds.
Their jeep arrived at the "crash" at the same time as the rest of the teams. Francine had a notebook in which to record her own findings. What no-one had explained except in the most passing manner was what her findings ought to be. Yes, she knew about aliens. She'd been tricked and imprisoned by one, and allowed to keep her memories after. None of that qualified her for observing professional alien-hunters, especially when one of them was her daughter. Jack had sworn it would be fine.
Martha stood back as the UNIT soldiers and Jack's people swarmed over the site and the spaceship. Francine walked over to her. "What's going on?"
"Right now? They're surveying the crash, looking for survivors and live sources of radiation or other power." She twisted her head. "Ooo, that one's being too eager."
Francine followed her gaze. A fresh-faced youth in UNIT fatigues opened a panel in the side of the ship. "Why do you say?"
"I watched him. He didn't scan first."
"Well, it's not a real ship."
"It is a real ship." Martha traced out the shape of the hull with her finger. "See the way the nacelles hang out to the sides? One's on the other side, you can't see it. The Derlax are the only ones nearby who use that sort of technology."
Francine stared at Martha, more fascinated by the fact that her lovely, intelligent, seemingly normal little girl had grown up to be an expert about spaceships. "Of course. Silly me. The Derlax."
The panel came open. The soldier screeched as blue dye sprayed all over his face and shirt. The others scrambled over to see what had happened, some of them turning away to laugh. Jack's laugh was the easiest to pick out.
"Excuse me," Martha said, and she walked over to the soldier. "Sergeant Wren, right?"
"Right, ma'am," he said, sheepish under his blue paint.
Martha looked him up and down. "In my professional opinion, this man is dead." She nodded to her colleague, that Torchwood doctor. "Dr Patanjali, would you care to confirm my diagnosis?"
Patanjali made a show of walking over and taking Wren's wrist to look for a pulse. He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for him." More chuckles followed the sergeant as he reported to Colonel Fielding to be relieved from the rest of the training.
"That's Blue Team down one technician," said someone. Oh yes, Jack's fellow. They'd come to the wedding together, along with another of Martha's friends from Torchwood and her husband. Jack had been maddeningly unforthcoming with exactly how to refer to his own Plus One, though Francine had burned with curiosity. Ianto had been polite, and Martha liked him, and Jack seemed happy. That was what mattered.
"He will be sorely missed," Jack said back. "We'll toast his memory tonight. Wren, you're buying." This earned another round of laughs.
"Are you going to make a note?" Martha asked.
"Hm?"
"About Wren. Not that I'd like to give my team an extra nudge, but he went against protocol and died."
"So he did." Francine wrote Blue team, one casualty due to lack of attention. Another two technicians approached the panel. One had a scanning device in his hand, and was examining the readings. The other reached inside.
"Hold on," said the first, "let me take a reading."
"Wren already activated the booby trap here."
"Yes, but ... "
There was a second explosion of blue dye.
***
The teams returned to the base some hours later, seven of them much bluer. On-board the alien craft had been two "survivors" who'd attacked the first exploratory group with paintballs. Jack was one of them, which then required a discussion amongst Fielding and the civilian observers, who voted two to one that, given Captain Harkness's unique circumstances, he was unlikely to be dead now.
The "alien" survivors had been captured, and Lois rode in the lorry carrying them back to base, which was much better than riding in the lorry where Ianto was failing not to have a fit that Jack's coat was covered in blue. Lois handled most of the team's work-related laundry issues, but the care and upkeep of the greatcoat stayed in the hands of someone who knew how to sew.
"You're Torchwood, yeah?" asked one of the aliens.
Lois nodded. "General support, really. I don't do much field work."
"All I do is guard duty," said the alien. He wore a mask that made him look like one of those greys, with great big bug eyes, and a boiler suit not unlike those back in Cardiff. "This was a bit of a break."
"Hey," said the other alien. "Why aren't the Torchwood people dead, then? Wren and Kenny both got blued and had to leave."
"Captain Harkness had special dispensation to stay." UNIT command might be aware of Jack's special circumstances, but she didn't know whom amongst the rank and file needed to know.
"And the other chap?"
Perry had stood back with his scanner when the second panel had exploded all over the other Red Team technician. He'd ducked in time, but she'd observed the harsh looks from the other UNIT soldiers when Kenny had been declared dead and Perry allowed to stay despite a small splatter on one arm.
"I wasn't privy to the decision in his case."
"Bit lucky, though," said the second alien. "No Torchwood casualties but six UNIT deaths. Sound familiar, Arn?"
The first alien, whom Lois presumed to be Arn, shrugged.
Out of the six people sent inside the vessel, only Jack and Johnson had emerged "alive," Jack on his personal technicality, Johnson because she hadn't been shot with the paintballs. She'd retreated to a safer position, and her reinforcements helped subdue the threat.
"It's just the first day."
"We could be infecting you right now," said the second alien. "Sure, we've got handcuffs, and we're under guard," he nodded at the two soldiers riding with them, armed with their normal guns loaded with dye-filled Simunition rounds rather than bullets, "but maybe we've got the Delbation 'flu, right?"
"Yes," said Arn. "Maybe we've got mind control. We could make you lot turn this caravan right around and take us back to our ship."
"You won't get far without the secret bog roll," Lois said. Martha had taken the silver artefact for the Gold Team, but their technician had been careful to deactivate the booby trap inside it first.
The second alien, Lois never did learn his name, laughed evilly. "We'll get your bog roll." His bug eyes stared at her until she looked out the window.
Creep.
Her own card had said human. At least she wasn't a collaborator twice over.
***
Gwen spent the day with the police radio on in the background as she caught up on her own projects. Although she was no longer chasing every missing persons case for Rift victims, she kept a file, part study, part scrapbook, documenting names and faces of the lost. With Jack's blessing, she pulled what records she could find on previous returnees over Torchwood's long and chequered past. Locked in the vaults and forgotten, he'd told her, glossing over the many who'd been euthanized outright.
She'd been able to cross off three names thus far from the list of the missing and add them definitively to the list of the dead.
Gwen wasn't sure why she kept at it. All the current inmates at Flat Holm were named and accounted for. She didn't even have the fantasy of a joyous reunion to give her hope the way she did that first disastrous time with Jonah. At best, she could talk Jack into letting her fake a dead body for a family to mourn, yet none of her three finds even had family members left to care.
Her hand paused over a new face. Lauren Hawes, aged four, had disappeared a week ago from her own garden while her mother had popped inside the house to check on Lauren's infant sister. The police suspected an abduction, but the disappearance coincided too well with a negative spike for Gwen's belief. She couldn't tell that to the constables handling the case, couldn't offer the truth to the stricken family as a harsher comfort. All she could do was give Lauren a page in her notebook, and search through the old records for a returned little girl.
Gwen hoped she could find her.
The Rift alarm startled her from what was about to turn into a good cry. Gwen closed her notes and opened the system. Then she swore. "Rhys, love," she said into her mobile as she ran upstairs to her car, "I'll be home late."
***
***
Rupesh followed the guards into the examination room. Their alien captives were dressed in silly costumes, nothing like real aliens. Rupesh had only been working with real aliens since November, but he'd been preparing to work with Torchwood for months, and he took in their outfits critically.
"This is the best you could come up with?"
Alien One held up his wrists. "Can you loosen these, mate? They're tight." One of the guards -- both of them were Gold Team like Martha -- pulled out his manacle key.
"You won't shoot us with death rays, right?"
Rupesh sighed. He'd tried to get into the spirit of this, really. Torchwood and UNIT would work together to demonstrate their various techniques. But when he got down to it, what was the point of examining a normal human bloke?
"All right, all right," he said. "You in the boiler suit, bend over and cough."
There were a few chuckles, but Rupesh distinctly heard the word "Torchwood" in one of them. He sighed again.
Thank goodness Dr Jones chose that moment to come into the exam room. "How're things here? Have you processed these two dangerous fellows?"
"Not yet. How do you suggest we begin, Doctor?"
"You're the expert." She was playing with him now. "What's your procedure?"
Right. Rupesh took out his diagnostic scanner and ran it over the first alien. "No radiation, normal readings. Bit of hypertension." He glanced up. "You should keep an eye on that."
"Nothing unusual?" Martha asked.
"Not that I see." He took the scanner to the second alien. "Ah, it's giving a species identification, homo sapiens unitus." That got him a smile. "He's fine, too. Would you like to scan him to see if he'll need a new kidney in ten years?"
"I'll pass. Do you think we should dissect them?"
"We'll let the exobiologists do that. Where did they run off to, anyway?"
"The Colonel wanted a word. They'll be along directly." Martha covered a yawn with her hand.
This exercise was entirely pointless. They weren't aliens. The real aliens were back in Cardiff. Rupesh's card had said human, which meant he didn't even get to pretend he was a secret alien spy for fun.
The second alien moved his arms around, and belatedly, Rupesh saw he'd managed to slide his hand into a pocket. Before he could shout, his head filled with a weird ringing noise and he lost his balance. The aliens stayed on their feet, even as Rupesh clutched at the exam table.
"What is that?" Dr Jones asked, even as she fell to her knees, hands to her head.
"It's a stunner, ma'am. Perfectly safe. Sorry. No-one frisked us."
As Rupesh passed out, the second alien took out a large paint grenade and tossed it. The last thing Rupesh saw was blue.
***
Martha's head ached. The second thing she noticed was the pounding. The cold, hard floor under her head was the third, and the stabbing bright lights in her eye the first.
"Ow."
"You'll be all right." Dr Simmons sounded detached but kind. As she woke up, he offered her a hand to move to a sitting position. Rupesh and the two guards were waking up as well. The room was spattered in blue.
"They got us?"
"Not you," said Rupesh, still queasy. "There's only a bit on your leg." Martha glanced down, and sure enough, one sock was lost but the rest of her had escaped.
Her hand went to her abdomen. "What did they use? Has it been tested?"
"It's a neural stunner," said Simmons. "They've been testing it over in R&D."
"If my baby is born with three heads, I'm going to punch someone in R&D." A shudder moved through her, and she held out an arm to steady herself even as she sat. There was no possible way that device had been safely tested for ante natal use, dammit.
Ten seconds later, she heard shouting in the outer corridor. Jack was giving someone, probably Colonel Fielding, a very hard time. She could only hear snatches of actual words, but "What the HELL?" came through clearly.
A minute later, Jack burst into the exam room. Mum wasn't far behind. Jack crouched down between Martha and Rupesh. "Are you two all right?"
"Martha?" asked Mum.
"We're fine," Rupesh said, getting to his feet. "Blue, but fine."
"What the hell were they thinking?" Jack growled. "They could have seriously hurt you, all of you," he added, taking in the two blued guards. "UNIT is supposed to know how to handle technology."
"We do know, Captain," said Simmons.
Jack rounded on him, but before he could open his mouth, Mum got in first. "And how do you handle technology on a foetus? What if your little stun gun caused a miscarriage?"
"Mum, it's fine. I'm fine." Martha got to her feet. The worried looks on her mother's and friend's faces gave her pause. She thought the baby would be all right, but ... "I'll have a quick exam to make sure everything's okay with both of us. I'm already here anyway. All right?"
"Martha, dear, you should sit out the rest of the training exercise."
"No, I shouldn't. This is my job every day."
"Exposed to God knows what, and aliens too. Have you even considered ... "
" ... that I am at work right now and we can have this conversation later? Yes, I've considered that." The words came out sharp but Martha was in no mood to take them back. "If you'll excuse me. Rupesh, Hartley, Flynn, sorry to hear about your sudden deaths."
Martha stormed out.
***
Nothing came over the radio as Gwen approached Church Street once again. No rampaging monsters, unusual medical conditions, or even meteorological anomalies were causing the populace of Cardiff to once again have to ignore all the damn aliens. Which was nice, she supposed. Gwen hated having to come up with cover stories. The "filming a movie" excuse had been one of her best in three years.
Church Street was quiet, but not so quiet she'd worry about mass deaths. Everything pointed to a normal early evening, except for the boarded up window at the end of the street where the Jelly Monster had been. Gwen went into the nearby shops, had a look around the church, chatted up passers-by on the road.
The Rift monitor pinged as if she were standing on the interdimensional version of Chernobyl.
She tapped her ear. "Jack, do you have a minute?"
She waited, and then she heard, "Go ahead."
"I'm back at that same site. The Rift readings are going off the scale, but there's nothing here."
"Have you knocked on doors to ask?"
"No, because I am very stupid."
"What did Mainframe say?"
She summarised the data as best she could, hoping she didn't leave out anything important. Jack said little.
"It looks like this site may become a stable node. But Jack, we haven't seen one of those form in months. Why now?"
His pause went on a long time. "I wish I knew. All right, you're absolutely sure you're not seeing anything?"
Cars went by. The air was chilly, but not unusually so for this time of year. Workers had been to the Thomas & Rose and gone, the other shops and the churchyard appeared normal. "Not even a stray dog."
"Just keep an ear out. When we get back, we'll do a full sweep of the place. Maybe the Rift is gearing up to spit out something big, and this is our early warning. In the meantime, see if you can dig up any earlier incidents in that area. Something's familiar about the place the more you tell me, but I don't know why."
"Right."
The line went dead.
***
Rupesh joined them for supper despite his "death." Ianto would normally be up for teasing him, but refrained. He noticed Jack holding back as well and wondered if he was also uncomfortably reminded of their last dead doctor walking. Less than a year had passed since the night of the bombs. Little things still stung. Then again, reminders of Lisa or his dad stung just as unexpectedly, if with less pain as time went by.
He drank his water.
Jack frowned and tapped his ear. "Go ahead." He stood and walked out of the room. When he returned some minutes later, he didn't bother to hide his worry.
"How's Gwen?"
"She's getting massive readings at the place where we found the jelly alien, but nothing's come through. We may be going home in a hurry."
"Will we have to reschedule?" Lois asked.
"Eventually. Training is training." Jack cut and ate a large bite of roast.
Ianto sat back. Something ticked over in the back of his head, something about the Jelly Monster. "What else did she say?"
Jack shrugged. Fortunately, he swallowed before speaking. "It's got the makings of another permanent node."
"A what?" Johnson rarely looked confused. Angry or sullen, often. Annoyed or weary, oh yes. Evilly amused, only when she showed up someone on something. Confusion was new.
"Places where the Rift opens regularly. Bute Park, that spot on Hope Street, there's a subbasement in an old church that used to spit out something every week like clockwork." Jack smiled distantly. "Every Saturday at four, we'd take the team, wait outside, subdue whatever came through, then knock off for the rest of the weekend. That was, oh, 1952 to 1958. I loved that schedule."
"What does that mean for us?"
"Depends. If it's regular enough, it means we get to chase aliens at teatime. Otherwise, it's just another place to keep an eye on when things go crazy."
After supper, they were supposed to break into their teams for recreation time and to compare notes and suss out more clues. The two fake aliens had stolen the bog roll, but were "shot" by the Red Team, who now had possession. Ianto made Perry carry it. Before he could join his team in the rec area, Ianto felt a very familiar hand at his waist.
"Don't hurry." Jack's breath was warm in his ear. Ianto ought to shrug him off and get back to work. Team building was very important. On the other hand, he and Jack were a team, right? He smirked. "What's that for?" asked Jack, as they sidled into an empty corridor.
"Just making flimsy excuses in my head."
"Been there, done that. Ah. Here we go." Jack's eyes lit up as he surveyed the small supply room he'd located. Of course.
"We shouldn't be gone long. They'll wonder where we are."
Jack's mouth went to his neck. "Then we should stay gone forty minutes at least so they know exactly where we went."
"Mm." The supply room had that dusty, disused appearance common even in high-tech facilities. There always needed to be storage space for extra ringbinders and pens, folding chairs, and all the little fiddly items without which no bureaucracy could function. For Ianto, it was one with a hundred school cupboards, a thousand back office closets. For Jack, it was significantly cheaper than another visit to the sex shop (Jack had provided them seed money back in the 1970s; the clerks had taken to greeting Ianto on sight with fresh recommendations).
He ought to push Jack away. They were technically working, and they had a rule about this.
"We're not at the Hub, we're not out on a mission," said Jack, picking the thoughts right out of Ianto's head. His hands were under Ianto's shirt reaching for skin. "It'll be fine." He met Ianto's mouth for a soft kiss, far more gentle than the press of his palms and the scratch of his blunt nails.
Ianto couldn't place what was missing. His own lips parted against Jack's mouth, brushing his tongue in to sweep against the perfect line of teeth. Jack sighed against him, familiar and sweet. Jack's thigh moved between his legs in just the right way, and Ianto's hand moved automatically to Jack's belt, ready to ease it open and slide inside his trousers.
But something was wrong.
Ianto pulled back his head. "What is it?"
"What's what?"
"Something's bothering you. Something's been bothering you."
Jack rubbed his erection against Ianto's leg. "Now that you mention it, yes, but I was trying to cure the problem."
He bent in for more kissing, but Ianto stopped him with his hand. "What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
Ianto folded his arms. He hated the pose, it reminded him of his Mam scolding Dad. God knew he was having enough problems convincing other people he wasn't "the girl" -- even Gwen implied it sometimes when she knew very well that was completely missing the point -- to invoke his mother right now. But needs must, as Mam often had said.
"I'll be in the rec room." Ianto straightened his clothing, grateful he wasn't hard, and he walked out.
He found the recreation room without difficulty and met up with Perry and the survivors of the Red Team. He was in time to be dealt in for the first hand of an impromptu poker game. Jack came in a minute later, smiled pleasantly, and joined the other Blues.
"Something come up?" Perry asked.
"Nothing important."
***
Chapter Three