Part 1: Where We Start From
"Well, well, well."
Captain Jack Harkness' ears were ringing loudly, a side effect of home-grown teleports. But his atoms were all in the right places, which was all that really mattered- and he'd even managed to land inside, which was pretty fortunate.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Through the noise and despite his foggy mind, Jack heard a familiar voice. An unmistakable voice. A voice he especially didn't want to hear while kneeling in the loading dock of an unknown space ship.
"Oh, this is unbelievable!" Jack said, squinting into the light of an open doorway. "Of all the ships in the universe, how the hell did I end up on one with you?"
Leaning against the doorframe, a silhouette dressed in red, was Captain John Hart.
"Not a ship," John said, eyes narrowed, a smirk on his face. He cocked his head to the side. "My ship."
"Captain," Jack said sarcastically, straightening his coat as he climbed to his feet, still trying to get his bearings.
"Captain," John returned, one hand on his hip with a thumb hooked on the holster, the other at his forehead in a mock salute. "Would you look at that, someone's wandered into someone else's territory again, and this time it's mine."
"Acquired legally through an exchange of currency, I'm sure," said Jack.
John gave an exaggerated shrug. "The previous Captain died, so I took up the mantle. Nothing wrong with that."
"Of natural causes, right?"
"Bleeding out's pretty natural." John grinned at him. "So, Captain Jack, what brings you around this part of the galaxy? Out on holiday? Or perhaps you were looking for me. Get bored of your little team?"
"Something like that," said Jack.
"Coulda phoned ahead if you wanted somewhere to stay." John swayed a little with every step as he descended the small staircase and paced toward him.
"It was sort of a last minute decision," said Jack, leaning away as John leaned in close. John tsked, but didn't step back.
"Well, as I'm the hospitable sort," John said with a coy tilt of his head, "Maybe I'll grant you shelter- for a price."
"Which would be?" Jack frowned.
"Well, stop looking at me like I'm a spider creeping up your bed, for a start."
"And?"
"And I'll tell you the rest later."
Jack laughed. "Yeah, right."
But it wasn't as if he had a lot of options. The last ship he'd been hitchhiking on was long gone, and it was only pure luck there had been another near enough to jump to.
"Well come on, then," John said, draping an arm around his shoulders. "I'll give you the grand tour."
Jack fought to remain expressionless as John led him down a corridor and deeper into the interior of the ship. John held no such reservations; he moved with a restless energy, like a kid anxious to show off a new toy.
"No fancy lifts or rolling doors, I'm afraid," John said, keying in a code.
A pair of thick metal doors swung open with a creak, opening on a much larger room. Before him sprawled an intricate array of platforms and arched walls, grating and loose wires and piping. Orange and yellow lights lit the bronze fixtures with a metallic sheen. It managed to look both gritty and high-tech.
"A hub, and-" John pressed a button, and the lights grew brighter, illuminating work stations and ramps weaving off into other unseen rooms.
Someone seated at one of the desks winced away from the light. A large creature scampered out down one of the halls.
"-And a team," John's almost wicked grin had turned to an annoyed scowl. "Who are being very rude to our new guest."
The man still sitting at the desk gave a curt wave.
"Well isn't that cute," Jack said skeptically, raising both his eyebrows.
"You're not the only one who's allowed to have a team," said John. He looked unfazed by Jack's reaction. "Team!"
He slammed a big red 'emergency' button on the wall, and the room erupted into a cacophony of alarms and flashing lights.
From the far corners of the room emerged three other people, two with guns, and the third with long claws and a pair of scythe-like protrusions at the ready.
"Excalibur," John said proudly, "Meet Captain Jack Harkness."
"Nobody actually calls us Excalibur," the man at the desk called flippantly, barely audible over the wailing of the alarms. John hit a second button, and the alarms stopped.
With the lighting returned to normal, Jack could clearly see the group that John had assembled. The closest- the man at the desk- appeared to be almost human; but his skin was too pale, opalescent, and embedded with gemstones, and his eyes were black with slit gold irises.
The three clustered in the center with their weapons out were more obviously alien. One was bulky and heavily furred, with white eyes barely visible under a thick black mane. Next to him was a marsupial-esque female that stood upright on digitigrade legs and had odd, long-fingered hands. Thin, veined membranes spanned the gaps between her limbs and torso. Behind them was a smaller creature, with a long, thin beak and eerie empty eyes.
Jack took them in for a moment, then said, "No invertebrates, though. You need an invertebrate."
"Oh, I have one!" said John, "But he's busy keeping my ship from getting friendly with asteroids."
"Okay, it's homey, and they all seem nice," said Jack. All weapons were still trained on him. "Little bit monkey-see, monkey-do, but I'll take it as a compliment. Since when do you play well with others enough to have a 'team'?"
"Could've said the same to you the last few times we've met," John said with a shrug and a smile.
"But what's it all for?"
"What do you think it's for?" John paced around demonstratively, taking up the stance of a captain among his crew. "Outside the government, beyond the police? We steal shit."
"Oh, that's what it is. You fancy yourself a pirate, now?" Jack said, grinning.
"Why not?" John snapped, grinning back at him defiantly.
"Whatever works for you, I guess," said Jack. "Do they have names?"
"Sacha at the desk, the big guy's called Cobalt, the pretty woman is Xxarxyxxlz-"
"Xar is fine," she interrupted. "He just thinks the kss kss thing is funny. Bit racist."
"-and the little one," John continued, "Is Finch."
"Great to meet you," said Jack. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness, and I'm not a space pirate."
"Yeah, about that," said John. "The second half of the deal- if you're going to stay on my ship, you're going to have to earn like the rest of us."
John swooped up close to him. "It'll be just like old times. You, me, and a million planets just begging to be scammed."
"I thought I made it clear that I'm past that," said Jack.
John threw up his arms. "Okay, find another ride, then. Oh wait, there isn't one. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not. Isn't that great? We'll finally get to spend some time together."
"…Okay," Jack shrugged. "What do I have to lose?"
"Great!" said John. "Now that we have that out of the way, I have a surprise for you!"
Jack was familiar with John's surprises, and with the feeling that always accompanied them. Apprehension, but with just a sliver of excitement. John, at least, seemed absolutely thrilled. Grinning broadly, that manic look in his eyes, John pressed a button and a panel on the wall slid open. Jack could hear a scratching noise, and the sound of flapping wings.
Then something appeared from the hole with a very familiar screech.
"You got a pterodactyl!?" Jack said incredulously.
"Not a," said John. "Yours. You're welcome, by the way."
"But how did you-"
"Dinosaur net," John said smugly.
"But."
Jack stared at the creature as it swooped above them once, and then landed with a clatter of metal. Again, it screeched loudly. Jack Harkness was only to some degree a dinosaur expert, but there was no doubting it. This was Myfanwy, the last MIA member of Torchwood Three, found at last, alive and well.
"You're welcome," said John.
Myfanwy screeched again, before taking wing to circle idly above them, clearly waiting for food as a reward for the spectacle.
Jack watched her fly, overtaken with bitter nostalgia. So much had gone wrong. So much had been lost. But here was this, this one thing: his pterodactyl, safe and sound.
"John," he said, and just for a moment his callous demeanor faltered. "…Thank you."
"You're welcome," John said again, smirking.
"No, seriously," said Jack. "Thank you."
Jack's stance was wavering. His eyes were going out of focus, speckled with a growing fog of black. John was saying something, but he couldn't hear what it was.
And then Jack Harkness passed out.
Jack opened his eyes to a spartan room, lit only with the red glow of a heater. He was lying on the only cot, and there was very little else in the room. A couple of empty shelves. A chair. Oh, and a man in the chair.
"Not like you to get travel sick," John said, tipping his chair back to prop his feet up on the end of Jack's cot.
"You try space jumping with a teleporter made of branches and spit, and with instable coordinates to boot." Jack stretched dramatically and sat up. "See if you don't end up with a hangover from hell."
"It's endearing, is all," said John. "Immortal ex-time agent, ex-con man, ex-bikini cop, having fainting spells like a fair maiden on my deck."
"What, were you waiting for me to wake up just to taunt me?"
"Oh, you know me," John said with a shrug. "I like to watch you sleep."
"I'm just surprised I woke up in bed alone," said Jack.
John shrugged again. "I considered."
"That's it, though? Really?"
"Well, no," said John. "I was thinking we could talk business, but you're still looking a little green around the gills. D'you need more nap time?"
"You know me," Jack said, grinning. "Always at the ready."
Jack was still feeling sick, but it had nothing to do with the teleporter. His fevered dreams had taken a turn for the worse, and though he couldn't remember what exactly had happened, his stomach churned with anxiety and his ears still rang with clipped scraps of voices.
"You say that like I don't know you," John said, patting him firmly on the shoulder.
"Didn't expect you to be so considerate," said Jack. "It's not like you."
"You think I'm not thoughtful? I can be thoughtful." John rolled languidly to his feet, letting his chair thump back to the ground with a clatter. "Whatever, happy beauty sleep. And if you get lonely, you know who to call."
Jack sat stiffly until the door clicked shut, before sighing out a deep breath and falling back onto the cot.
He closed his eyes, and forced himself to breathe slowly, and let any sense of focus fall away, emptying his mind completely. He heard and felt nothing but his own steady pulse.
"Can you hear me?" He whispered, to the empty room.
He'd never done this before, despite having gone through some basic psychic training in his earlier days at Torchwood. It felt a little bit like praying, which was odd for a man who couldn't die and put so little merit in 'faith.'
But this would be the way to do it, right? He'd weave a new telekinetic connection, and find the voice that slept inside him.
The incorporeal Ianto Jones.
He still didn't understand exactly how it had happened, how the 'soul' of Ianto dragged from the void had managed to cling on to him instead of being pulled back into the space between worlds. But he didn't want to think about it too hard. If it was craziness, that was fine too. But his last brief connection with him hadn't felt like an echo or a hallucination.
"Ianto?"
He didn't let the silence perturb him. He kept reaching, groping in the darkness.
"Ianto."
"Jack," came a voice. It sounded tired, but clear. "What?"
Jack smiled. In this silence, with no crisis to tear at him, he could hear Ianto's voice as if he were in the same room with him. He could still remember all the faces he'd make. He remembered all the looks that he'd memorized and stored away in a place that had hurt to think of. It was all coming back, but this time with the tiniest shred of hope. Jack was more than willing to cling to that.
"What's it like on the brain plane? What can you see?"
He heard Ianto sigh. "Anything you can hear or see, but only if I focus."
"Focus on resting," Jack said quietly.
"And leave you alone with John? Oh no. I'll be here." A pause. "Tragedy that I won't be able to quip at him, though."
"I'll be double snarky, just for you." Jack sat up again, and opened his eyes on a world that seemed, just this once, to be brighter.
Ianto laughed a polite, welsh laugh that turned a little less polite because he couldn't seem to stop.
"Right," said Ianto. "Good luck with that, sir."
