Why Little Green Men?
Disclaimer – All characters are the property of BBC TV; I have made no money from their use.
A / N – A discussion started in my writers' group about why Martians are always shown as green. I figured that Jack would know.
Gwen strode into the Hub, the first of the team to arrive. She flicked the lights on, and it was debatable whether she or Jack Harkness jumped more - he'd been sitting by his desk, either dozing or musing over one of the weird alien things there. Maybe the blue-tinged coral in its dish, or the severed hand in its jar.
'Morning.'
'Uhhh.' He yawned widely, not bothering to hide it. 'Good morning, and good to see you looking as gorgeous as ever, Gwen Cooper.'
'Quit playing, will you?' Gwen teased. 'Aim at someone more your level. And speaking of which, where's Ianto? His car's out front.'
Jack gave her such a knowing grin that she blushed. 'Ianto's in bed, fast asleep and looking like an angel - which he most certainly isn't, I'm pleased to say. Now, does that answer any other questions you may have been going to ask me, like why I'm a bit sleepy at the moment?'
'Enough, enough, Jack! I can't take anything else about your private life at this time of the morning. What cases we got?'
He picked up a sheet of paper covered in Ianto's neat handwriting, and stopped his games. The captain, the military man, was in charge now. 'I'm never giving you the weekend off again, Gwen. It's like some sorta bad luck charm.'
'Why?'
'Three Weevils in two days, including one out at Broadmead, Bristol. Can't think why anything'd wanna go there, but that's Weevils for ya. Never known one to get so far. And there was a real bad one over Newmoor way - Tosh came across it online. This guy was blogging about an alien he'd caught, and the tests he was doing on it.'
'Had he?'
'What, caught it? Yeah. Never picked it up on any of the tracers or anything, like we should have done...He carried out all these tests while it was still alive... I shot it; Tosh was there, else I'd've shot the man as well.'
'Why'd you shoot it?' Gwen couldn't keep the accusation from her voice; Jack often killed the aliens he came across. Sometimes, she thought that there was an image of one particular alien in his mind, a memory he was trying to erase with guns.
'It was dying anyway.' He gave that half-hearted shrug that she'd realised a long time back was Harkness code for decisions he wished he hadn't been obliged to make. In Torchwood it was always him that made the final call; they could all console themselves with the knowledge they were only following orders, but he had to come up with the rules they played by.
'Oh...Sorry.'
'It needed doing.'
They sat in silence for a moment, Jack staring at the water tower and the pterodactyl, perched on the rails by the coffee machine. Jack looked so at home, so right, there amongst the WW2 decoration and the alien artefacts in the Hub, Gwen thought.
'Anything else happen?'
Suddenly, he flashed the matinee idol grin that Gwen had found enchanting until she'd worked out it was normally aimed at Ianto. 'Oh yeah. Owen caught a Martian.'
'He texted me with something about that 3AM Sunday,' Gwen recalled. 'Being Owen, I figured he was drunk. Made a change from pink elephants though.'
'Nope. Genuine little green man from Mars. Landed out on the Brecon Beacons. We've got him down in the cells if you don't believe me.'
'You're having me on, Jack. You only ever look like that when you're lying to someone.'
'That's a bit harsh. I always look like this when I've had a good night. Why should I be having ya on, anyway? C'mon, we've had everything from a Cyclops to things from the Planet Zog falling through the Rift, and that's not even mentioning that 1950's plane the other day - and Myfanwy. She came through, you know.'
'Well, I didn't exactly think you got her down the local pet shop, Jack.'
'So what's the problem with the Martian, then?'
'I just don't believe they're little green men. That's so, so, well...look, Mars is big and red, right?'
'Someone stayed awake in Astronomy, I see.'
'So why would people ever get the idea that Martians are small and green? It's just bad American sci-fi stereotypes.'
He managed to look hurt. 'Hey, I like them stories. They're all good.'
'So why would people ever get such stupid ideas about Martians?'
'Well...when man first landed on Mars, he came across small, grass coloured, almost humanoid creatures running around. Hence the description of Martians as little green men. Easily observable fact of life, that is.'
She gave him the warning look usually reserved for Rhys when he was eyeing up anything in a miniskirt. 'Jack, might I remind you it's too early in the morning for me to tolerate your windups and this being the year 2007, no man has ever been on Mars.'
'That's what you know.'
'Don't you dare go all conspiracy minded on me, Jack! It just makes you sound like Fox Mulder.'
'Who? Oh him, yeah. Not bad looking, was he? Shame I never met the writers for that - you've no idea how much research I coulda saved them. Anyway, we're the conspiracy in all this, aren't we? Hiding out in an underground base, trying to save a world that doesn't know it's in danger...Outside the government, beyond the law-'
'Back to the Martians, Jack.'
He laughed. 'Blame it on a really late night. Yeah. Having seen Martians in their native habitat - just-shut-up-and-listen- I can tell you exactly why they're like that. Now, your average Martian is carnivorous and turns to cannibalism if there's nothing better around. Which, Mars being the sort of place it is, happens pretty frequently. Now, Gwen Cooper, number one hiding method for prey?'
'Camouflage?'
'Got it in one. Big red planet and little green men equal bang-on camouflage for any members of your own family that are after turning you into dinner.'
'It does not.'
That grin again, the knowing look in his blue eyes that made all of Torchwood half believe his stories; that he and Estelle had danced at the Ritz as the bombs fell on London, that he had visited the stars he loved to watch. Gwen would trust him with her life, and she'd never bet against most of his tales being true, but she wasn't having this one.
'C'mon, Jack. How the hell does that equal camouflage?'
'Being small, that bit's obvious. Easier to hide yourself away. As for the colour, that makes perfect sense if every member of your race is red-green colour-blind.'
'I wish I could strap you up to a lie detector right now, Jack, because I don't believe a word of that.'
'Fine. Go ahead.' He was smirking now, all traces of sleepiness gone from his bright blue eyes. 'Ya know what they say - Daleks and Martians can really wreck my day, but cuffs and straps just make it. And on that note, I'm off to get Ianto out of bed, or at least find out what his views on that sort of thing are.'
'I still don't believe you.'
'What, about the straps? Try it some - oh, you're still going on about the damn Martian, aren't you? Go look in the cells, or ask Owen. He did quite a detailed study on it.'
He sauntered off, the black greatcoat floating around his tall frame like wings, and once again, Gwen was struck by just how strange a man he was. If anyone on Earth had ever been to Mars, had the courage and wanderlust to travel amongst the stars, it would have been the captain.
When she got back to her workstation at lunchtime, after a morning spent confirming everything Jack had told her about Martians, there was a post-it note done in Jack's beautiful copperplate handwriting.
"I told you so, Gwen." Intending to throw it away, she picked it up and found an oddly shaped piece of something that looked like metal but was far lighter, with another of Jack's notes stuck to it.
"This is a Martian coin. Just because they're cannibals doesn't mean they don't like a drink - I think this was change from a round I brought there once. See
if Owen's one recognises it. Believe me now?"
'Oh, yes, Jack,' Gwen sighed. 'I believe you - again.'
