Suspension 3/7
Title: Suspension 3/7
Authors:
leofuller and
the9thdoctor
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: 15ish
Spoilers: Season 1 only - This is our Post-Cyberwoman fic!
Summary: Every decision made changes the future. For better or worse, Ianto wakes up in a universe where he never had a chance to hide Lisa in the basement - A universe where he died in the wreckage of Canary Wharf and somebody else went to Cardiff with a deadly secret...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
“What’s wrong, Jack?” Gwen came into the conference room for a post-alien-hunt debriefing session. Jack was sitting at the table, glaring at his mobile.
“Ianto’s not answering his phone.”
“Big deal.” Owen dropped some files onto the table and threw himself into a chair. “Who cares if the teaboy goes AWOL? We’re better off without him after the shit he pulled with that bloody robot.”
“Owen…” Gwen started.
“He’s a member of this team, until I say otherwise.” Jack snapped.
The exchange pretty much set the tone for the meeting, which was short and tense. As soon as they had concluded with the point that everybody needed to be more responsible for making sure that they organised themselves without relying on somebody else (i.e. Ianto) to do everything for them, Jack swept out of the conference room with his phone clamped to his ear.
He called four times, only getting the recorded message telling him that the phone was switched off. Jack lowered the phone from his ear. This was exactly the sort of situation that he had been dreading. He had been so angry with Ianto after everything that had happened. The feeling of betrayal had made him feel sick. He couldn't quite get his head round the idea that the quiet, unassuming archivist has been hiding such a dark secret from him even as they shared a bed.
Ianto had come to him one night - it had been late, so late it was almost early - and Jack had thought that finally all the stress and trauma he had suffered at Canary Wharf had finally caught up with the young man. He had held him as he sobbed, stroking a hand through his hair and whispering that it would all be alright.
And then the world had gone to Hell and Jack didn't think he could ever bear to touch him again, not with the memory of the betrayal of trust between them.
However, now Ianto wasn't answering his phone, Jack suddenly realised that he had been wrong about that. As long as his worst fears weren't about to be realised, he would give Ianto as many second chances as he needed.
Ianto didn’t answer the phone while Jack was driving to the archivist’s flat with his hands-free set to auto-redial, and he didn’t answer his door either. After five minutes of leaning on the doorbell and shouting through the letterbox, Jack pulled out the spare keys that none of his employees knew he had to their homes and let himself in.
Ianto wasn’t there.
Jack had only been to the flat once or twice, to drop Ianto home when there was a problem with cars being in the wrong places, and he’d never been further than the front door.
He’d expected Ianto’s home to be immaculate, not a collection of mis-matched furniture and boxes waiting to be unpacked. Mind you, he hadn’t expected Ianto to be keeping a Cyberwoman in the basement, so Jack told himself that he shouldn’t be surprised by anything about Ianto any more.
Anyway, Ianto clearly wasn’t here, and his wallet, keys and mobile were lying on the table.
Jack stood in the middle of the disorganised living room. There were empty cups in the sink and the bed had obviously been slept in, but there were no clues as to where Ianto was.
Jack tried to consider all the options. He hadn't popped out to the shops - not without his keys or wallet. If he had left the house he had either done so unwillingly or with the expectation of not returning. It didn't look good.
Remaining as calm as he was able, Jack made a more methodical search of the flat. No tear-stained suicide notes were apparent, and Jack couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. There also didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle, so it didn't look like he'd been kidnapped.
Jack folded his arms and dropped down onto the sofa. A blanket was haphazardly folded over the arm and Jack almost propped his feet up on the cluttered coffee table before he managed to stop himself. Ianto would probably be singularly unimpressed if he returned to find scuff marks on his furniture. Jack tried to smile at that idea, but his attention was drawn to a small black box lying on top of a magazine. There was a small flashing light on it.
Jack picked it up.
Ianto closed the book he’d been failing to read and laid it on the table next to his bed. He was staying at the Hub for the time being, in one of the rooms set up for Torchwood employees who had to work late. It felt very strange, possible more so than anything else, to be in the Hub but with nothing to do.
There was little enough to do in the Tourist Office during the day, and no point at all in being up there at night. He’d cleaned the Hub properly in the last few days, and Paul didn’t seem to want him down in the archives. Ianto could understand that, he’d been pretty territorial about them himself, before. Back home, he could have gone to find Jack, who always had a series of inventive ways of passing the time, but this Jack didn’t seem interested. Ianto found to his surprise that he missed Jack’s flirting.
The other thing he would have been doing, back before, was spending time with Lisa. But she wasn’t here, she’d never been here… Ianto sighed and gave in to the urge to go down to what he would always think of as Lisa’s room, to sit on the floor and just remember.
The archives were dark, with only the emergency lighting illuminating the rows of filing cabinets. Ianto could navigate them blindfolded.
He wandered through the stacks, deep in thought. Mostly he thought about Jack. Maybe this was the new start he needed to make things right - to see if he still wanted Jack without an ulterior motive behind it.
Suddenly, he walked into a desk. He recognised it immediately, but back in the 'other' Hub it had been stashed away at the other end of the archives. Paul must have moved it. The screech of it rubbing along the side of a cabinet made an awful noise. It sent shivers down Ianto's spine and he shoved the table back against the cabinet.
“Ianto!”
He whirled round to find Paul, clutching at a stack of files and staring at him. It looked at though he'd been running. “Christ almighty, mate, you gave me a bit of a shock there!”
Ianto grinned nervously. Paul had pretty much ordered him out of the archives the last time he had ventured down here.
“Sorry. I’m just not used to doing nothing.” Ianto shrugged. “I was just wandering, really”
Paul smiled suddenly. “Do you fancy going for a pint?”
“Okay.” Glad for a distraction from the decidedly maudlin direction his thoughts had been taken, Ianto was happy enough to fetch his jacket and meet Paul by the door.
There was something about Paul that made him feel a little uneasy. He thought at first that it was just because he remembered going to the other man’s funeral, but it wasn’t until he was in bed, later that night, that he was able to pinpoint what it was. As he turned out the light, it occurred to him that, despite the entirely platonic evening they’d spent, there was something about the way Paul looked at him that reminded him of himself with Jack.
He kept a close eye on Paul over the next few days, and a lot of things began to fall into a rather disturbing place.
Paul spent a lot of time in the archives, usually until late at night - Ianto watched him leave the Hub at three or four in the morning, unseen by anyone else. He avoided talking about his personal life when the team ate together in the board room, ignored simple questions... In short, he was doing everything that Ianto remembered doing when he had Lisa stashed away in the basement.
Ianto tried to remember if Paul had had a girlfriend back at Canary Wharf - he had seen him occasionally with several different girls, and it looked as though he had been dating Abigail in the weeks following his birthday party, but they had broken up before the mission where he had died. There was no-one special that Ianto could recall.
Had he really managed to jump straight into a parallel universe where another man had rescued his girlfriend from a cyber conversion unit and talked his way into Torchwood Three? It seemed unlikely, but all the signs were there.
It was time to investigate.
Paul nearly always left the Hub in the early hours of the morning, which should in theory give Ianto a window of a couple of hours to go down to the lower levels of the Hub and see what his counterpart was hiding.
Ianto was having to adapt that theory, however, to take into account that this Jack didn’t seem to need any more sleep than the Jack Ianto had left behind. He’d observed the older man pacing the Hub, checking the computers, making long telephone calls to heads of state in other time zones. Ianto had to control his urge to make Jack coffee and offer to keep him company. It was better for now that Jack believe Ianto was sleeping through the night, and anyway, this Jack didn’t seem to be looking for that kind of company, not from Ianto.
He’d been surprised to discover how much he missed Jack’s flirting, once the initial shock of finding himself in a parallel universe has started to wear off. Everything else was so similar, with the obvious exception of Paul - the banter, the aliens, the tourists coming into the office with their asinine questions. Whenever Jack walked passed him without looking at him, or failed to comment on what he was wearing, Ianto felt like something was missing. The hours when Ianto sat awake in his room, aware of Jack awake somewhere else in the Hub, felt like they should be better spent with them both awake together in Jack’s bed.
Ianto shook his head to clear those thoughts. This wasn’t his Jack, and in any case his relationship with Jack back home was built on lies, and had been destroyed when Jack found out the extent of Ianto’s deception. Right now, Ianto had another deception to uncover, and hopefully this time nobody would have to die.
Fortunately, his first chance to investigate came a few days later. With Jack thumping around at 5am and having a loud argument in what sounded like Russian, there was no way that Ianto could even pretend to be asleep. He sighed and got dressed. The suits he had bought with Paul were as close as he could find to the ones he had back 'home', and as he had been hanging them up on the hooks on the back of the door, he found that he had bought replicas of all Jack's favourites. He wondered if he had done that deliberately, but then decided that he would rather not know.
Once dressed in what ‘his' Jack had once described as the 'cute suit' he went to make coffee. If Jack was going to raise his voice to Russian Premiers so early in the morning, then Ianto wasn't prepared to listen to it without a decent amount of caffeine.
Jack was staring at his computer screen and saying 'Niet' at regular intervals. He looked up in shock when Ianto carefully placed the striped mug at his elbow.
'Coffee.' Ianto mouthed at him, pointing a little unnecessarily to the cup.
The look of surprise abated slightly and Jack held the phone away from his ear. Ianto could hear the person on the other end skwarking in indignation.
“Can you do me a favour?” Jack asked, keeping one hand over the mouthpiece. “I know Paul isn't here, but could you go down to the archives and see if you can find the folders on Tunguska? I need to stay here and stave off World War Three.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow - he doubted it was that serious an incident, but he nodded and headed downstairs anyway.
He had the Tunguska files on Jack’s desk ten minutes later, and went straight back down to the lower levels, leaving Jack to assume that he was looking for more information. Instead, Ianto went straight past the archives and on down towards what he knew from experience was the best place to hide a very big secret.
Ianto peered carefully through the dirty window in the door. Lisa would have been able to tell him if somebody else had found her, and it probably wasn’t in his best interests to start fiddling with the bolts and trying to find a key.
He was so sure that he was going to find a cyberconversion unit set up in the room, holding one of his former colleagues, that it took him a few moments to process what he’d seen.
He’d heard of these before. He’d been to a briefing session at Torchwood London, a few months before the battle of Canary Wharf…
“The alien is completely blind in the conventional sense.” Doctor Cavendish explained. Ianto glanced up at the screen and continued to make notes on the Senior Alien Biologist’s presentation.
“We believe that it may be able to detect motion through vibrations,” Dr Cavendish continued, “as we have not found any evidence of auditory ability.”
“So we should be able to sneak up on it if we don't stamp about?” asked Richard, laughing and nudging Ianto in the side, and making his pen draw a long jagged line across the page. Ianto scowled.
Dr Cavendish wasn't impressed. “Please pay attention, Mr Cromwell. This briefing is designed to aid you in the successful retrieval of the alien.”
Richard looked faintly guilty but then smirked at Ianto as soon as the doctor's back was turned.
“Now,” continued Cavendish, “The alien has hidden itself in this system of caves here. This also leads us to believe that it may use vibrations or some form or sonar to detect movement. We have devised a plan of attack that should allow you to successfully inject the alien with the sedative... Yes, Mr Redmond, you have a question?”
Paul smiled and lowered his hand. “From looking at the scans of the creature, Doctor Cavendish, there doesn't seem to be a suitable place for the injection.”
Cavendish sighed and tapped the screen. “Central nervous cortex, Mr Redmond. Central nervous cortex... Honestly, if you two are the best retrieval specialists this place can come up with then we may all well be doomed. Perhaps we should send Mr Jones instead. At least he doesn't bother me with ridiculous questions every minute of the day.”
Ianto refused to look up from his notebook.
“Excuse me, Doctor Cavendish?”
“Miss Denning?”
“Do we know how to kill it?”
“That’s not the aim of this mission, Miss Denning.”
“I appreciate that, Dr Cavendish, but my job is to know how to contain the alien if something goes wrong.”
Ianto glanced over to where Alice was waiting politely for Dr Cavendish’s response. She’d written ‘chauvinistic old goat!’ on the corner of her notebook.
“I see.” Dr Cavendish moved the presentation on to a new image. “Well, in a worse case scenario, we believe that certain chemical compounds, if injected anywhere into the outer membranes, will cause rapid death.”
Ianto added notes to his sketch of the rather gelatinous-looking alien, and jotted down the chemical compounds.
It had caused rapid death in a worse case scenario. Neither Paul nor Richard had come back from that mission, and Alice had been in hospital for weeks.
So what the hell was the same alien doing in the basement at Torchwood Three?
~*~*~*~*~*~
There we go, hope that answers some of your questions!
Chapter 4 can be found here!
Authors:
leofuller and
the9thdoctor
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: 15ish
Spoilers: Season 1 only - This is our Post-Cyberwoman fic!
Summary: Every decision made changes the future. For better or worse, Ianto wakes up in a universe where he never had a chance to hide Lisa in the basement - A universe where he died in the wreckage of Canary Wharf and somebody else went to Cardiff with a deadly secret...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
“What’s wrong, Jack?” Gwen came into the conference room for a post-alien-hunt debriefing session. Jack was sitting at the table, glaring at his mobile.
“Ianto’s not answering his phone.”
“Big deal.” Owen dropped some files onto the table and threw himself into a chair. “Who cares if the teaboy goes AWOL? We’re better off without him after the shit he pulled with that bloody robot.”
“Owen…” Gwen started.
“He’s a member of this team, until I say otherwise.” Jack snapped.
The exchange pretty much set the tone for the meeting, which was short and tense. As soon as they had concluded with the point that everybody needed to be more responsible for making sure that they organised themselves without relying on somebody else (i.e. Ianto) to do everything for them, Jack swept out of the conference room with his phone clamped to his ear.
He called four times, only getting the recorded message telling him that the phone was switched off. Jack lowered the phone from his ear. This was exactly the sort of situation that he had been dreading. He had been so angry with Ianto after everything that had happened. The feeling of betrayal had made him feel sick. He couldn't quite get his head round the idea that the quiet, unassuming archivist has been hiding such a dark secret from him even as they shared a bed.
Ianto had come to him one night - it had been late, so late it was almost early - and Jack had thought that finally all the stress and trauma he had suffered at Canary Wharf had finally caught up with the young man. He had held him as he sobbed, stroking a hand through his hair and whispering that it would all be alright.
And then the world had gone to Hell and Jack didn't think he could ever bear to touch him again, not with the memory of the betrayal of trust between them.
However, now Ianto wasn't answering his phone, Jack suddenly realised that he had been wrong about that. As long as his worst fears weren't about to be realised, he would give Ianto as many second chances as he needed.
Ianto didn’t answer the phone while Jack was driving to the archivist’s flat with his hands-free set to auto-redial, and he didn’t answer his door either. After five minutes of leaning on the doorbell and shouting through the letterbox, Jack pulled out the spare keys that none of his employees knew he had to their homes and let himself in.
Ianto wasn’t there.
Jack had only been to the flat once or twice, to drop Ianto home when there was a problem with cars being in the wrong places, and he’d never been further than the front door.
He’d expected Ianto’s home to be immaculate, not a collection of mis-matched furniture and boxes waiting to be unpacked. Mind you, he hadn’t expected Ianto to be keeping a Cyberwoman in the basement, so Jack told himself that he shouldn’t be surprised by anything about Ianto any more.
Anyway, Ianto clearly wasn’t here, and his wallet, keys and mobile were lying on the table.
Jack stood in the middle of the disorganised living room. There were empty cups in the sink and the bed had obviously been slept in, but there were no clues as to where Ianto was.
Jack tried to consider all the options. He hadn't popped out to the shops - not without his keys or wallet. If he had left the house he had either done so unwillingly or with the expectation of not returning. It didn't look good.
Remaining as calm as he was able, Jack made a more methodical search of the flat. No tear-stained suicide notes were apparent, and Jack couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. There also didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle, so it didn't look like he'd been kidnapped.
Jack folded his arms and dropped down onto the sofa. A blanket was haphazardly folded over the arm and Jack almost propped his feet up on the cluttered coffee table before he managed to stop himself. Ianto would probably be singularly unimpressed if he returned to find scuff marks on his furniture. Jack tried to smile at that idea, but his attention was drawn to a small black box lying on top of a magazine. There was a small flashing light on it.
Jack picked it up.
Ianto closed the book he’d been failing to read and laid it on the table next to his bed. He was staying at the Hub for the time being, in one of the rooms set up for Torchwood employees who had to work late. It felt very strange, possible more so than anything else, to be in the Hub but with nothing to do.
There was little enough to do in the Tourist Office during the day, and no point at all in being up there at night. He’d cleaned the Hub properly in the last few days, and Paul didn’t seem to want him down in the archives. Ianto could understand that, he’d been pretty territorial about them himself, before. Back home, he could have gone to find Jack, who always had a series of inventive ways of passing the time, but this Jack didn’t seem interested. Ianto found to his surprise that he missed Jack’s flirting.
The other thing he would have been doing, back before, was spending time with Lisa. But she wasn’t here, she’d never been here… Ianto sighed and gave in to the urge to go down to what he would always think of as Lisa’s room, to sit on the floor and just remember.
The archives were dark, with only the emergency lighting illuminating the rows of filing cabinets. Ianto could navigate them blindfolded.
He wandered through the stacks, deep in thought. Mostly he thought about Jack. Maybe this was the new start he needed to make things right - to see if he still wanted Jack without an ulterior motive behind it.
Suddenly, he walked into a desk. He recognised it immediately, but back in the 'other' Hub it had been stashed away at the other end of the archives. Paul must have moved it. The screech of it rubbing along the side of a cabinet made an awful noise. It sent shivers down Ianto's spine and he shoved the table back against the cabinet.
“Ianto!”
He whirled round to find Paul, clutching at a stack of files and staring at him. It looked at though he'd been running. “Christ almighty, mate, you gave me a bit of a shock there!”
Ianto grinned nervously. Paul had pretty much ordered him out of the archives the last time he had ventured down here.
“Sorry. I’m just not used to doing nothing.” Ianto shrugged. “I was just wandering, really”
Paul smiled suddenly. “Do you fancy going for a pint?”
“Okay.” Glad for a distraction from the decidedly maudlin direction his thoughts had been taken, Ianto was happy enough to fetch his jacket and meet Paul by the door.
There was something about Paul that made him feel a little uneasy. He thought at first that it was just because he remembered going to the other man’s funeral, but it wasn’t until he was in bed, later that night, that he was able to pinpoint what it was. As he turned out the light, it occurred to him that, despite the entirely platonic evening they’d spent, there was something about the way Paul looked at him that reminded him of himself with Jack.
He kept a close eye on Paul over the next few days, and a lot of things began to fall into a rather disturbing place.
Paul spent a lot of time in the archives, usually until late at night - Ianto watched him leave the Hub at three or four in the morning, unseen by anyone else. He avoided talking about his personal life when the team ate together in the board room, ignored simple questions... In short, he was doing everything that Ianto remembered doing when he had Lisa stashed away in the basement.
Ianto tried to remember if Paul had had a girlfriend back at Canary Wharf - he had seen him occasionally with several different girls, and it looked as though he had been dating Abigail in the weeks following his birthday party, but they had broken up before the mission where he had died. There was no-one special that Ianto could recall.
Had he really managed to jump straight into a parallel universe where another man had rescued his girlfriend from a cyber conversion unit and talked his way into Torchwood Three? It seemed unlikely, but all the signs were there.
It was time to investigate.
Paul nearly always left the Hub in the early hours of the morning, which should in theory give Ianto a window of a couple of hours to go down to the lower levels of the Hub and see what his counterpart was hiding.
Ianto was having to adapt that theory, however, to take into account that this Jack didn’t seem to need any more sleep than the Jack Ianto had left behind. He’d observed the older man pacing the Hub, checking the computers, making long telephone calls to heads of state in other time zones. Ianto had to control his urge to make Jack coffee and offer to keep him company. It was better for now that Jack believe Ianto was sleeping through the night, and anyway, this Jack didn’t seem to be looking for that kind of company, not from Ianto.
He’d been surprised to discover how much he missed Jack’s flirting, once the initial shock of finding himself in a parallel universe has started to wear off. Everything else was so similar, with the obvious exception of Paul - the banter, the aliens, the tourists coming into the office with their asinine questions. Whenever Jack walked passed him without looking at him, or failed to comment on what he was wearing, Ianto felt like something was missing. The hours when Ianto sat awake in his room, aware of Jack awake somewhere else in the Hub, felt like they should be better spent with them both awake together in Jack’s bed.
Ianto shook his head to clear those thoughts. This wasn’t his Jack, and in any case his relationship with Jack back home was built on lies, and had been destroyed when Jack found out the extent of Ianto’s deception. Right now, Ianto had another deception to uncover, and hopefully this time nobody would have to die.
Fortunately, his first chance to investigate came a few days later. With Jack thumping around at 5am and having a loud argument in what sounded like Russian, there was no way that Ianto could even pretend to be asleep. He sighed and got dressed. The suits he had bought with Paul were as close as he could find to the ones he had back 'home', and as he had been hanging them up on the hooks on the back of the door, he found that he had bought replicas of all Jack's favourites. He wondered if he had done that deliberately, but then decided that he would rather not know.
Once dressed in what ‘his' Jack had once described as the 'cute suit' he went to make coffee. If Jack was going to raise his voice to Russian Premiers so early in the morning, then Ianto wasn't prepared to listen to it without a decent amount of caffeine.
Jack was staring at his computer screen and saying 'Niet' at regular intervals. He looked up in shock when Ianto carefully placed the striped mug at his elbow.
'Coffee.' Ianto mouthed at him, pointing a little unnecessarily to the cup.
The look of surprise abated slightly and Jack held the phone away from his ear. Ianto could hear the person on the other end skwarking in indignation.
“Can you do me a favour?” Jack asked, keeping one hand over the mouthpiece. “I know Paul isn't here, but could you go down to the archives and see if you can find the folders on Tunguska? I need to stay here and stave off World War Three.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow - he doubted it was that serious an incident, but he nodded and headed downstairs anyway.
He had the Tunguska files on Jack’s desk ten minutes later, and went straight back down to the lower levels, leaving Jack to assume that he was looking for more information. Instead, Ianto went straight past the archives and on down towards what he knew from experience was the best place to hide a very big secret.
Ianto peered carefully through the dirty window in the door. Lisa would have been able to tell him if somebody else had found her, and it probably wasn’t in his best interests to start fiddling with the bolts and trying to find a key.
He was so sure that he was going to find a cyberconversion unit set up in the room, holding one of his former colleagues, that it took him a few moments to process what he’d seen.
He’d heard of these before. He’d been to a briefing session at Torchwood London, a few months before the battle of Canary Wharf…
“The alien is completely blind in the conventional sense.” Doctor Cavendish explained. Ianto glanced up at the screen and continued to make notes on the Senior Alien Biologist’s presentation.
“We believe that it may be able to detect motion through vibrations,” Dr Cavendish continued, “as we have not found any evidence of auditory ability.”
“So we should be able to sneak up on it if we don't stamp about?” asked Richard, laughing and nudging Ianto in the side, and making his pen draw a long jagged line across the page. Ianto scowled.
Dr Cavendish wasn't impressed. “Please pay attention, Mr Cromwell. This briefing is designed to aid you in the successful retrieval of the alien.”
Richard looked faintly guilty but then smirked at Ianto as soon as the doctor's back was turned.
“Now,” continued Cavendish, “The alien has hidden itself in this system of caves here. This also leads us to believe that it may use vibrations or some form or sonar to detect movement. We have devised a plan of attack that should allow you to successfully inject the alien with the sedative... Yes, Mr Redmond, you have a question?”
Paul smiled and lowered his hand. “From looking at the scans of the creature, Doctor Cavendish, there doesn't seem to be a suitable place for the injection.”
Cavendish sighed and tapped the screen. “Central nervous cortex, Mr Redmond. Central nervous cortex... Honestly, if you two are the best retrieval specialists this place can come up with then we may all well be doomed. Perhaps we should send Mr Jones instead. At least he doesn't bother me with ridiculous questions every minute of the day.”
Ianto refused to look up from his notebook.
“Excuse me, Doctor Cavendish?”
“Miss Denning?”
“Do we know how to kill it?”
“That’s not the aim of this mission, Miss Denning.”
“I appreciate that, Dr Cavendish, but my job is to know how to contain the alien if something goes wrong.”
Ianto glanced over to where Alice was waiting politely for Dr Cavendish’s response. She’d written ‘chauvinistic old goat!’ on the corner of her notebook.
“I see.” Dr Cavendish moved the presentation on to a new image. “Well, in a worse case scenario, we believe that certain chemical compounds, if injected anywhere into the outer membranes, will cause rapid death.”
Ianto added notes to his sketch of the rather gelatinous-looking alien, and jotted down the chemical compounds.
It had caused rapid death in a worse case scenario. Neither Paul nor Richard had come back from that mission, and Alice had been in hospital for weeks.
So what the hell was the same alien doing in the basement at Torchwood Three?
~*~*~*~*~*~
There we go, hope that answers some of your questions!
Chapter 4 can be found here!