Title: Blow The House Down

Author: Nagi Kokuyo

Fandom(s): Doctor Who & Torchwood

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, alcohol, violence, probably character death, complete disregard for continuity, blatant abuse of physics, possible threesomes, Captain Jack Harkness

Spoilers: I don't think there's anything important, but you should probably see up to ep 8 of Broadchurch, just in case. Sequel to "The Blonde in the Leather Jacket" and "Saving Rose Tyler." You should probably read those first. Also, this contains spoilers for The Stolen Earth and Journey's End. Mildly AU after Journey's End, because there is no Meta-Crisis Doctor. Starting with this fic, there is canon divergence for Torchwood at the end of Season 1 and complete AU for Seasons 2 & 3 (I don't even acknowledge Miracle Day, it's a disgrace).

Summary: The Bad Wolf is back. A newly regenerated Rose Tyler is ready to take the worlds by storm, and with a little help, she's planning to break through the walls of the universe and return to her Doctor. But when an unknown force threatens reality itself, the Bad Wolf is going to need a different kind of help, namely: Torchwood.

A/N: Back by popular demand—no, wait, that's not right. Sequel to "The Blonde in the Leather Jacket" and "Saving Rose Tyler," this one may or may not feature Hardy, I haven't decided yet. There's also something I need to clear up before we go any further. The Rose Tyler in this story is not Rose Tyler, she's the Bad Wolf, a Time Lady. Yes, I will explain. Probably. Eventually.

oOoOoOo

CARDIFF, WALES, EARTH (aka SOL III, TERRA, TELLUS, GAIA, RAVOLOX, ANTYKHON, BIG BALL, etc)

SOL GALACTIC SYSTEM, MUTTER'S SPIRAL

SECTOR 8023, THIRD QUADTRANT OF THE SHADOW PROCLAMATION

EARTH YEAR 2008, LATE APRIL/EARLY MAY

The woman in the leather jacket steps off the carriage and flips down her sunglasses. After the long train ride, it feels good to stand on solid, unmoving ground again; she's been to plenty of places, and solid ground is always a plus.

Even though it's the beginning of summer, it's still a bit chilly, and she pulls her jacket closer. It's more of a reflex, really, because she doesn't feel temperatures like she used to. One of the perks of her new life.

She opts not to catch a cab and instead walks the distance from the train station to Roald Dahl Plass. She revels in the culture of urban Cardiff—it's...quaint, especially after the bazaars on Shan Shen and the Festival of Offerings on Akhaten, God, that was a good time.

No matter where in the universes she goes, Earth has a special place in her heart—like a favorite rest stop on a trip you take often—and the people who live on it are at the very least entertaining. Watching them scurry around their meaningless lives with such fervor is adorable, and fills her with the same fuzzy feeling as puppies as arrogant dictators.

Eventually, she makes her way to the famous postcard setting, and while it's crawling with camera-happy tourists, the picturesque views and iconic statue don't even faze her. A woman with a purpose, she strides across the Plass without even glancing at the gleaming tower, her foots clicking softly against the stone. She has a destination in mind, and as she rounds the Plass and gets down towards the Bay, she sees it.

A small tourist information booth, purposely kept off the beaten path in a place strategically meant to deter Hawaiian-shirt wearing, souvenir-toting, culturally-ignorant swine from visiting it.

The overwhelmingly unwelcome facade does nothing to dissuade her as she pushes open the door and disturbs the carefully-constructed cover story of a certain semi-secret organization.

A little bell dings overhead as the door swings open, and she scowls, fighting the urge to dismantle it or melt it. There's no one behind the desk when she enters, but after a moment, a man comes out from a side room, wiping his hand on a towel. He's young—younger than she remembers, but damn, she's not complaining. After all, she's old, not dead—and dressed impeccably in a perfectly tailored suit. He scans her head to toe as she does the same to him—although he doesn't appear to be undressing her with his eyes, so there's at least once difference between them—and she can't blame him. She supposes that she is a little vain this time around.

She knows what he sees when he looks at her, and after fifty years, she still isn't used to it. She likes this body the best, though, and she's been quite careful with it. She'd hate for something unseemly to happen to it. Short dark hair that falls around her face in soft waves, pale blue eyes a bit too large for her face and a nose a bit too pointed, and high cheekbones that someone once described as capable of cutting glass. This body has a predisposition towards shirts a shade too low-cut and jeans a size too tight, and the moment she spotted her leather jacket in a shop on Salus, she fell in love all over again.

Every time she looks in the mirror, she knows why she likes this body so much. She looks like him.

Normally, she'd pretend to be a regular tourist by browsing the maps and brochures, but she's in a bit of a hurry. Normally, she just lets the Doctor take care of that kind of stuff, because as a rule, it always involves humans, and he's just better with them than she is. But this isn't a normal situation, and so all the normal rules go out the airlock. Fate of the universe and all that.

So instead of trying to pretend she's even remotely human, she leans forward and splays her hands on the counter, every inch the harmless girl instead of a highly dangerous, volatile, and questionably mentally-disturbed Time Lady.

"Are you Ianto Jones?" she asks. She already knows the answer, because after all, they've met before, but he doesn't know that she knows and he doesn't know that they've met before because they haven't yet, and it's important not to endanger timelines. Even she can't do that, not that she hasn't tried. It never ends well, and she's starting to feel like an intergalactic janitor.

He eyes her carefully and cautiously, as if he isn't sure she won't bite him or take off his limb. He must decide she's not a threat—wouldn't he be surprised—because after a moment of hesitation, he takes her hand. Her handshake is firm and brisk and she lets go too soon, but he gets the chance to notice that their hands fit together perfectly.

"Yes," he says eventually, "may I help you with something?"

She laughs, and it's nothing like her laugh used to be. She used to have such a pretty laugh, but now even she notices that she comes across as slightly unhinged. It doesn't help that she is, in fact, slightly unhinged. Centuries of isolation and segregation will do that to a person. She tries not to dwell on it.

"Oh, I hope so. I really do."

She pulls of the sunglasses, revealing golden-tinged eyes, and smiles, tongue between her teeth.

"I need to talk to you about the man who calls himself Captain Jack Harkness. I'm the Bad Wolf, by the way—hello!"

oOoOoOo

I'm BAAAAAACK! Sorry for the delay, dear readers, but I wanted to get a few chapters written before I started posting. Anyway, here is the third installment in my Torchwood in Broadchurch series (a name that is only used on AO3, which allows me to create series'), starring Rose Tyler and...oh, wait. Ha. Not our dearly tormented detective.

Sorry folks, but it's going to be awhile before Alec has any sort of major role in this story. BUT, he will return. So, I can promise you that.

I can also promise you that Jack's Torchwood team will interact with both the Doctor and Rose in depth, and that Ianto is going to have reason for being majorly jealous.

But this chapter isn't really anything you haven't seen before. In fact, I literally just copied and pasted the last chapter of Saving Rose Tyler. That's mostly because I felt I had to toss you guys a bone after the break. Since finishing Saving Rose Tyler, I graduated high school and started my college career. Yay (I'm not yet sure if that's sarcastic or not...). My first day is near the end of August, so I'm going to try and get as much writing done before then as possible since after, it's going to get hectic.

Other than that...you know the drill by now. If you have any suggestions or ideas of how the story should go, feel free to sound off in the comments.

With love, Nagi