August 1908

"It was believed that there was only one, they didn't see the other as the two fought in the upper atmosphere. Both were damaged beyond repair, both came down miles from any civilisation, One crashed near the Podkamennaya Tunkguska River, its occupant being flung from the ship as it fought the pull of a time rift. The sentient ship's last concern was to self-destruct instead of being ripped through time, only to end up somewhere that it would not be useful or treasured. Its actions split the sky in two and fire appeared high and wide over the forest; its airburst flattened the forest around it for hundreds of miles. It appeared like a second sun before the sudden time rift swallowed it whole, consigning it's remains to time. The closest people to see the ship were frightened, believing that the world was on the verge of coming to an end, yet as suddenly as it came, bringing the thunder and the winds filled with fire and heat it stopped, leaving only a streaming blackness disappearing into the pale sunrise. Life returned to its normal struggle, until a week later one man stumbled into their village, echo's of burns across his skin, the whole of his eyes nothing but a dark iris. In broken Russian he told them of the asteroid coming down, and his hunting grounds destroyed. After a month the man left, his burns completely healed. All his injuries were gone, except his eyes. They never healed; they were always completely dark. Within a few months most of the village forgot about him, within a few years, they only remembered the day the fire winds came, bringing with them a second sun.

The second ship was watched as best as they could by the men in the compound, but even then they didn't see the smaller ship escape from the pull of its mother and soar over the horizon to escape the Thar desert desperate to escape the pull of the ship and its doomed landing. As the ship tore through the atmosphere it sonic boom shook everything; sand dunes became flattened The sentient ship fretted, it had been invaded, it had been used to chase down another ship, its files had been decoded, the battle damage had been extensive, it jettisoned its wrapthal drive which buried itself deep in the sand, coming to a halt deep below ground finally resting within a maze of natural caves. Without the drive the ship had little time its death would be swift. Within minutes its systems stopped. Its last breath was a scream of engines as they ploughed into the sand.

There was nothing but sand between the compound and the rest of the world. Even the ancient cities of the valley were memories of the sand, remnants of old civilisations were flung into the sky as the thing crashed, burying itself into the desert. The sand that it had flung up in the crash rained back down as gravity retook a hold. Only a mound of a strange shape was left visible.

That was until those from the compound went out in the direction the noise came from. They dragged tools and barrows; machines not known yet to the rest of the world and strange things that clicked and beeped when swung over the ground.

They found the mound and excavated. The dirty silver of the thing frightened the men, and excited the scientists, for that was what was posted at the compound. The compound was a place where understanding was supposed to be the mainstay of their profession; until their discovery under the mound of sand changed it all.

They brutally entered the crashed space ship, and ripped out what they could carry. Then they found the visual records. Their reports back to base excited their masters and new orders came back. London wanted what this ship had shown was possible and they were to ensure London got what it wanted, and London always got what it wanted.

~~oOo~~

June 1915

Bethlem Asylum that is what it felt like here, that decaying, insane place. He'd been once, visiting one of the other agents. They had preferred the madness of that place rather than going to Holding. What did it matter, they were both a type of prison; you just got a better type of conversation at Belthem. Holding for all its faults and the sane men that ran it was not a patch on this hell.

How did he get here and why was he here. Currently he couldn't remember. They thought he was a spy of some sort that much he knew. All he could think about was here and now, and how to get out.

As he was being dragged down the long filthy corridor to his cell he scanned the long corridors. Dim light came from somewhere above them. The stench of rotten flesh mingled with the smell of human waste. He could hear the cries of the damned cutting through thoughts. He realised he was joining in the cry. He hurt, Gods above how he hurt. He thought his jaw may have been broken, but his own rapid healing was dealing with that, painfully. He'd come to realise he would always hurt when he healed. He fought against the pull, but the guards were twice his size and strength. He twisted and pulled against them trying to escape the clawing clutches of the guards. He felt a hand slip down his arm and turned his head to bite, only to receive a brutal blow to the side of his head. He felt the grip lessen momentarily and used it to his advantage. Their grip gave way and he slipped down, he twisted as he fell so he was able to race back up the corridor to any-where but here.

His feet slipped on the reason for the smell, propelling him forward into the pungent smells of the cells run offs. He managed to regain his footing, taking off into the corridor; the whining cries became shouts of encouragement as he fled. He glanced behind him, the guards were ambling towards him as though out for a leisurely stroll, occasionally backhanding the outstretched hands of the occupants of the cells. He turned a corner slamming into a closed door. He couldn't remember being dragged through the door originally. He fumbled with the handle and eventually wrenched the door open and slipped through, slamming it behind him on the faces of the two guards. He was in a darkened room; a single small window at the end of the room illuminated a desk. Behind the desk was a man; with his back to the door as he looked at the charts on the wall behind the desk. From the rear Jack could tell that this uniform was immaculate and well cut. A brooding muddy grey green only highlighted by the epaulets which bore the rank of General. The tip of the cane, in his right hand was headed with a skull which gleamed in the dull light. He toyed with it idly as he spoke. His voice was smooth, well spoken, and soft. The accent impossible to place, yet somewhere in Jacks memory he could remember the voice.

"Welcome Jack, I wondered when you would find your way back to me. They all do, eventually; all of their own free will, each wanting to give up all their little secrets, but yours is so much bigger than all of their little secrets isn't it?"

"Who are you?" Jack kept his back to the wall, searching for a way out of the room.

"Your friend and constant companion Jack, I am the silent voice in the back of your head. I am the gatherer of your secrets Jack. You really should be more grateful Jack, I gave you the oblivion you sought, a roof over your head and a reason to live, not to exist."

The man turned and slammed the cane down on the desk making him jump, "Until you give up each and every one of your secrets you belong here. You, my Captain, are ours"

Jack recognised the figure of Flick Ruathan. He hadn't changed too much in the years since they had last met. His now greying hair was slicked back away from his face a neat pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose. The same tight smile that never reached his eyes, but those eyes had changed, they were no longer the serious blue eyes of an old time agent. These were simply pools of black. This man who had figured so much in his recent past, was a man living on borrowed time, man who shouldn't be here, but locked up tight in the 51st century's high security prison otherwise known as Holding. Jack's replying snarl was stopped midway as when Flick spoke a transformation came across him. Jack remembered a woman trying to scream in pain as thick black stiches made their way across her eyes and mouth.

"You know me Jack, Friends to the end weren't we. Where is it? Where did you hide it?" The last question was snarled through an almost closed mouth, thick stiches pulling it awkwardly closed.

"Sightless" Jack hissed, much to the enjoyment of the creature that now stood in front of him. Words entered his mind, without ever meeting his ears

"You are to be ours now, willingly or…" The words stopped as a heavy knock was heard against the oak door before it was opened. The two guards stood there waiting. In the moment that it took Jack to look from the sightless to the guards and back, the thing had returned to back to Flick who simply nodded to the two men before saying;

"Take him boys, and let the devil out of this one, you know how it likes to play with the mind"

~~oOo~~

Jack was dragged bodily back through the stinking mess he'd previously escaped from and bodily thrown into another room. The light in here was intense, he guarded his eyes until they became used to the light. In the centre of the room was a chair.

"Ah the best room in the house for me? This place looks wonderful, lovely blood splatters. Artistically done, comfy too"

The biggest guard backhanded him into silence.

A simple high backed wooden chair had been placed in the middle of the room, from its wooden arms dangled two leather straps. The seat was padded, and extending from the bottom crossbar was a set of what could only be classes as wooden restraints for the feet. Jack had seen this chair before, they'd used it a lot in Beltham when the agents had been rambling about their work. The Doctors had believed it to be insanity but Jack knew better, he'd sit there and listen to them before slipping small doses of retcon into their liquid, till eventually the dosage would wipe out their minds completely, leaving them nothing more than a grown child with nightmares. it had been used across the ages to calm people, but it was missing the blinding box where they encased the head in linen, so no sound, and no light could enter and cause further disturbance to the mind. He looked around the room and noticed a wooden table. A cloth covered whatever was on the table hiding everything from view. Jack was forced into the chair, his chest, stomach and arms bound by thick leather straps. His feet placed into the wooden restraints; each strap tightened until he could only move his head. He felt the strong hands of the guard against his temples forcing his head straight. Another strap was placed around his head, pulling it back against the headrest. A gag was placed into his mouth, stifling his cries and shouts. It was then they placed a box over his head. A box was the wrong word for it… there was only half a lid, towards the front of the box he could feel a draft gently blowing on his forehead and the top of his head. The inside of the box was stuffed with linen, trying to make it as dark and as silent as possible. He could just see at the top of his vision a slight light. Within the confines of the linen he could smell a sweet smell, he started feeling dizzy with each inhalation. His hearing already muted by the linen became disjointed. With each further breath his heart fluttered. Then suddenly the box was taken off. A face appeared in front of him, studying him, looking intensely into his drooping eyes. The man looked to the guard behind and nodded. An excruciating pain came from the top of his head and his forehead; blood ran down into his eyes. Jack was happy to let the natural instincts of his body take over, unable to take the pain anymore as he passed out his last thoughts were "How the hell did I end up here?"

~~oOo~~

The water was freezing, he came back with a jolt as it drenched him face first. He shook the water out of his face scrunched up his eyes. They were still there, those women, the silent ones; just staring, watching him.

"When I said get a room I meant one with linen!" He cried out angrily before closing his eyes as he shook his head trying to get the water out of his face, He looked up again a different, yet still familiar face looked down at him,

"WHAT?!"

He breathed deeply, before looking in to her eyes

"Never mind, I was dreaming"

"Gathered that." She held out her hand "Are you coming or what?"

"No it's just the way I'm… "

"Don't bother. Do you want to stay here or leave?"

She counted under her breath"… 75… 76… 78…"

Jack rose quickly and hugged her. "It's nice to see a friendly face"

"Shut up and get behind the door… 85…86"

Just as he stood behind the door it swung open almost hitting him in the face.

The woman smiled as a guard barrelled in then fell back as she opened fire. Both barrels of her pistol silently spat the spinning bullets that pierced the guards armour.

"We have 5 more minutes to get out of this compound, before he finds me here."

"What? How does he know you're here?"

"I left him a note. It's more… sporting this way."

Jack nodded in agreement then grabbed her hand and they ran through the catacombs. Cries and shouts for help fell behind them as they raced out. They were blown through double doors into the bright sunlight as a huge explosion ripped through the tunnels.

The blast threw them to the ground, and there they lay curled on the floor covering their heads as debris showered down on them. Once everything had settled Jack stood before pulling bits of debris out of his hair.

"This note you left… Was it attached to anything… anything explosive by any chance?" he asked

She sat up and wiped the dirt from the side of her face,

"It did have that sort of quality about it." she admitted

"So… he'll be dead, and so will all the others in that godforsaken place?" He could feel his temper rise. She had just murdered 50 people, innocent of everything, except being different to the norm.

She shrugged. "He won't be dead, the others will be though. He needed to know he's lost"

Jack stood and glared and the others?"

"I know what was happening in there Jack. They're better off being dead than what he was putting them through"

And that was?

"Sorry Jack. That would be Spoilers. You know we can't tell you that." She looked intently at his forehead and the blood encrusted wound that was starting to heal.

"What the hell did they do to you? Do you know you have a rather large hole in your forehead?"

Jack nodded, "They were letting out the devil apparently"

"I have a feeling it didn't work" They continued to walk away in silence from the crater she'd created; the side of the hill slowly collapsing in on itself, burying everything.

"Where have you been these last 13 years? Home or back up there?" He motioned to the sky.

"Busy" she replied shortly

Ah. Her tone had made it clear she didn't want to talk about the years between their separation. Their split had be friendly, almost loving, she'd been with him a long time. Stuck there in his head with no other company but his own memories.

"I never thanked you for what you did in there" he tapped the side of his head. "You saved me from me"

"I saved more than you will know Jack, you'll figure out what it is a long time into the future but your thanks is enough for now. Now walk with me and tell me what has happened to you."

Their walk took them down the hills into the centre of Cardiff. With each step of the way he told her of his attempts to find the doctor, and then how he joined- albeit as an unwilling, un-contracted person,- the small band of strange people known as Torchwood.

He knew that occasionally either Alice or Emily would somehow try to kill him, just because they could, or he'd managed to annoy them somehow possibly by simply breathing.

She listened as they talked, occasionally nodding or moving her hair away from her eyes as the wind started to play gently, pushing at both the dust and her hair with the dust on the road.

"Where's Cornelia?" he finally asked.

"Funeral"

"Oh?"

"Her Husbands."

Jack stopped in his tracks as his heart momentarily leapt. "So Hart is dead?"

"Gods no. No one knows where he is. He disappeared from the radars. None of the contacts have seen him for years. You remember Semyon? The man who sat with you after the explosion in the hotel? The man who sat beside the broken body of Cornelia when she came back from the Halls of the Dead? He was her husband. A husband of Convenience, after all this is only the start of the 20th century, you can't have a woman wandering around the planet on her own. They may spontaneously combust or damage something. He died in the riot outside the church in Tarascon, along with seventeen others. Only the Father managed to escape. Do you know that old man was an Atsoc? He's on the run now, trying to hide from your rather select little group you are working for.

I don't know how you did it, Jack but the stuff you said to Renon really set him going. He has a way with words, he can speak to peoples fear and hatred for difference and make them act on it. The church burned Jack, even the windows. The glass guardian was just about saved, but it won't work anymore. They can't animate it, there is no protector there now; The Magdalen is on her own now."

"I'm sorry Phire but I have absolutely no idea of what you are talking about, I haven't been to France since I was under the influence of…"

She turned angrily. "Jack you weren't under the influence… you can say the word. It's not a hard word. You were an addict... You did things that you would never dream of doing now"

She sighed before continuing "Things are happening Jack, I've seen them, Hate and fear are spreading like wildfire. The Sightless love it here, and they want this world to burn. Someone is helping them too. Every time I investigate it leads to just one person"

"Flick?"

She shook her head.. "It's you Jack, You are the link between them."

~oOo~

Jack stood still as Phire walked ahead. "I can't be I've been here in that godforsaken place. I've been kept for about two years. London found out about my gift, Torchwood had to give me up, Goodness knows how many times I died for their research."

Phire returned to him, reached out and took hold of Jack's hand. Immediately the link between them reopened. She stormed into his memories. The old mansion stood solid still, the old disturbing swamp that had originally invaded him when he was addicted to the fratican was no longer there. A long sweeping driveway lined by willows stood inviting and harmless looking. She knew better though, she'd helped to plant them along with the traps they hid before she had killed him. With one fluid movement she was at the big solid wooden door. But the door of his protected place was nothing to her now; with a single touch the doors opened. She glanced round the inside of the hallway.

You've let it slide again Jack. There's a lot of dust here she turned to the figure of Jack who had joined her in the hallway

You need to keep it tidy and accessible you never know when you will need to refer back Jack nodded, saying nothing, but let her continue her search in peace.

What are you actually looking for?

I need to know something

What?

How much you're infected.

The Sightless left some one behind…

Edited dates as the story is setting itself sometime after 1912, keep with it, it will make more sense later (I hope)