Jack Harkness took a sip of his coffee and let out a sigh. Perfect. Even Ianto would approve. A flash of pain accompanied the thought, something that could still be brought on by such things as a perfect cup of coffee or a pair of eyes just the right shade of blue. But it was happening less often now than it had before, now that his Ianto had been gone for more than fourteen years.
Jack opened his eyes and met the patient stare of the man across from him. Arnold Wright was in his late forties but looked ten years older, thanks to the wrinkles that covered his dark face and the gray beginning to twine through his short black hair. He'd never met Ianto, but he had known Jack long enough to know that a really good cup of coffee needed a moment of silence.
"All right, Arnie, what's up?" asked Jack after he'd swallowed back the worst of the pain.
"Someone's been in my servers."
"And you chose to tell me this in a coffee shop?" asked Jack with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm not sure they're a threat. More like a series of pranks." Arnie's expression was sour. "Last week, Rice turned on his computer to find the desktop background had changed to a field of daffodils." Jack snorted, picturing the dour technician's face. "We had a case down at Busch Stadium last week, and someone did a 'find/replace' to substitute 'rugby' for 'baseball' in the official report. Brenna keeps finding pictures of dragons throughout her electronic archives. She's the only one who finds it amusing…other than you, apparently." Jack tried to control his snickering in the face of Arnie's dark look.
"This is serious, Jack. Whoever it is hasn't done anything yet, but they very easily could."
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but paused as a young woman approached carrying a pair of plates. The waitress was slightly tall for a woman, with a slim build and pale skin. Her eyes were a particular shade of blue, set above an adorable button nose. Jack's breath caught in his throat.
"Tropicana for you, Mr. Wright," she said in an accent that had once been as familiar to Jack as his own. "And a Monte Carlo for your friend."
"You're a long way from Wales," managed Jack with a ghost of his usual charm. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, and Jack blinked at her as his heart clenched.
"Very good, sir. Most Americans take me for English."
"I lived in Cardiff for a while. What brings you to St. Louis?" Though his mind was sluggish, Jack had managed to recover his composure well enough to pull on his usual flirtatious mask.
"I attended Washington University. I'm out now, looking for a real job here in town. If you or Mr. Wright know of anyone who could use a computer engineer, please pass it along." She nodded politely. "Enjoy your breakfast, gentlemen."
"I eat here every morning, and I never knew Sam was Welsh," commented Arnie. "But going back to the problem at hand—"
"This is incredible!" interrupted Jack as he took a bite of the crèpe that the girl had delivered. "Why have you never brought me here before?"
"I believe your exact words were 'If I want a crèpe, I'll just go to France.' But seriously, Jack. I've got a hacker."
"And what's Rice doing about it?"
"He's more of a hardware guy. He's okay with the software, but this person is running rings around him. I was hoping that maybe we could borrow someone from New York or Los Angeles…"
"Andrea's the best in New York, but she's eight months pregnant. She might be able to run something from there, but she's a bit distracted at the moment," said Jack around mouthfuls of strawberries, coconut, and pecans. "And though Rice isn't perfect, he's better than Jin in Los Angeles." He hadn't had a really good technical person since Tosh, nearly fifteen years dead. "Why isn't your whole team eating here?"
"Because I prefer to eat my breakfast alone. The only ones from St. Louis are Brenna and Frankie, and even they don't know about it." Arnie smiled tightly, spearing a forkful of ham and pineapple from his own crèpe. "On topic, Jack."
"Someone's stalking you. Not always a bad thing. One of the best people I ever had basically hired himself." Ianto was so much on his mind already, between the coffee and the girl with the Welsh accent who bore him an uncanny resemblance.
"More coffee, sir?"
Jack actually choked as she appeared at his elbow as though he'd summoned her with his thoughts. God, just like Ianto used to…
"Yes, thank you, Sam," said Arnie. "And some for my friend as well," he added as Jack coughed.
"You're later than usual today, Mr. Wright," she said as she poured.
"Late night last night, plus Jack here had an early flight."
"This is better than the last time I was in France," said Jack.
"Thank you, sir. I'll pass that along to the owners. And now I'm off shift, so if you need anything, just ask Alicia." She indicated another girl across the way. "Enjoy your day, Mr. Wright, Captain Harkness."
It wasn't until Jack had scraped the last of the caramel-like sauce from his plate that the obvious occurred to him. "Arnie, did you tell that waitress my surname?"
TW TW TW TW
Samantha Gordon walked down Forsyth, headed home after her shift. It was the better part of a mile to work, but since parking in downtown Clayton, Missouri, was always terrible, she found it easier to walk. And today she had plenty to keep her mind busy as she did.
It had been a risk, calling him by name. After all, though she knew he was the head of the multinational Torchwood Institute, she'd never actually seen a picture of Captain Jack Harkness. But the man with Arnold Wright had matched the descriptions she'd heard—tall, dark-haired, gorgeous American wearing a Royal Air Force greatcoat. He was younger than she'd expected—she knew he'd been in charge of Torchwood Three in Cardiff for years before reforming the organization after the Miracle, and the man she'd seen today couldn't be more than forty or forty-five—and that only if he was quite a bit older than he looked. But she'd done it, and now she had to wait and see if they had the wits to figure it out.
"Val?" she called as she entered the two-bedroom flat she shared with her boyfriend. There was no response, but she hadn't expected one. Valentin Sekherov was finishing his doctoral thesis in physics and was often in his lab, but even when he was home he could be so buried in his work he wouldn't hear her. She poked her head into the second bedroom that they used as an office, pleased to find him there. He'd resurface at some point, talk to her a little, eat the sandwich she'd brought home for him. She stuck it in the fridge for the moment then settled down with her computer. It was time to check on Torchwood.
Sam slipped effortlessly into the Torchwood mainframe through one of several back doors that their tech guy had yet to find. He'd been looking, of course, and he had managed to close some of her access points, but she could still see what she needed even if he had made sure she couldn't mess with his desktop wallpaper. He hadn't protected his coworkers' computers as closely though…she selected the station that belonged to Francis Hilliard, formerly of the St. Louis PD, and changed it to a field of leeks. If the previous attempts didn't tip off Captain Harkness, that should finish the job.
Amusement done, she made a quick run through the system to see if she'd lost access to anything else. The archives were protected now, so no more dragons, but covering that had left a hole in a different system, letting Sam into something she hadn't breached before—the GPS signals of the trackers worn by each member of the team. They were labeled with initials rather than names, which was still more than she'd had. One thing that was locked up tight was personnel files. She'd gotten Hilliard's name from police records, Arnold Wright's from his phone when he'd been at the café, but the others she had only guesses for.
It looked like Wright was still in the café, presumably with Captain Harkness. Four members of the team were in what she presumed to be their base, tucked beneath the office buildings and shops of Clayton only a few blocks from the old house on Forsyth in which she lived. The sixth seemed to be at the police station for University City, another nearby suburb. That combined with the initials meant it was probably Hilliard. She left that screen up with an idea of locating one of the doors to the base—both Wright and Hilliard had been very careful going in and out, and though she knew which office building concealed the entrance, she wasn't sure exactly where it was.
She played for a while, exploring how much access she could manage on the mainframe, until Val called her name.
"Hey, Sam. When did you get home?"
She glanced at the clock on her computer and rolled her eyes. "About two hours ago."
"That long, huh? Don't suppose you brought me a crèpe?" he asked hopefully.
"They don't keep two hours, Val. You would have had mush." She smiled up at him. "There's a sandwich in the fridge."
"You're the best, Sam," he said, leaning in to kiss her. As he straightened, he glanced out the window behind her. "Huh. I spotted that guy from my window a good fifteen minutes ago, and he's still there."
"What guy?" asked Sam, trying to conceal her excitement.
"I don't know who he is, but that big old-fashioned coat is really distinctive. Pretty cool, too."
"Tall, dark haired, about thirty-five? Possibly accompanied by a black man in his fifties?"
"Looks a little like Tom Cruise hanging out with Danny Glover," agreed Val. "Why do you know that? Should I be jealous?"
Sam's face split with a wide grin. "Remember I said I was working on the perfect job? Well, I think I just passed my first interview. That's the head of the corporation, accompanied by the head of the local branch. I have to change." She kissed Val and dashed for the bedroom.
Five minutes later, Sam walked down the front steps of her building dressed neatly in her best suit. Jack Harkness and Arnold Wright looked up as she approached.
"Samantha Gordon," greeted Captain Harkness. "I believe I met your father a few times at Torchwood One."
"Good day again, Captain Harkness, Mr. Wright. I see you got my invitation."
"Pretty cute, setting up all of those references to Wales."
"I knew you would understand them, sir, having been head of Torchwood Three for a number of years."
"And you did some impressive work with the server at your place of employment, also. I've never before met a coffee shop whose files I couldn't get into."
"That's what I do, sir. What I could do for you and Mr. Wright."
"So you've been priming me for months, just waiting for Jack to show up?" put in Mr. Wright.
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to mislead you, but my research suggested that Captain Harkness would be the one more impressed by my skills."
Captain Harkness grinned, and Sam found herself a little dazzled by the full force of his smile. "All right then, Ms. Gordon. Impress me."
"I graduated summa cum laude from Washington University with a dual degree in computer engineering and chemistry with minors in astronomy and—"
"And accounting," concluded Captain Harkness. "You live in apartment 203 with your boyfriend of three years who is getting a doctorate in physics. I may not have made it into the coffee shop's files, but the university's aren't that hard for Torchwood. I could also quote you the number for your work visa and inform you of your mother's address in Swansea. I'm interested in the things that aren't filed in a computer. What makes you worth my while, Ms. Gordon?"
"I got into your systems. Just because all I've been doing is pulling pranks doesn't mean that's all I can do. For example, Francis Hilliard uses the name of his street as his password. There's a lot I could presumably do with that access, none of which I have touched." Harkness's expression didn't change, though Wright looked a little put out. "I'm also fully qualified with most firearms, and I have basic first aid skills. I have the technical skills of a hacker combined with the qualifications of a field agent."
"Why, Ms. Gordon?"
"What?"
"You have gone to a lot of time and trouble to search out the organization in whose service your father died. Why?"
"Because they saved my life," blurted Sam. Harkness blinked. "After Dad died, my mam and I moved to Cardiff. She worked as a dispatcher for the police and knew you all by sight if not name. So the night that there were explosions across the city and all of the Weevils were out, she knew who it was that saved us."
Harkness's face was impassive, but she could see something in his eyes. "Who?" he asked softly. "Who saved you?"
"There were two of them. The woman was Asian, Chinese or Japanese I guess. She was favoring one arm, but still waving her gun with the other. The man was Welsh and well-dressed—a three piece suit, but it didn't stop him from getting right in the Weevil's face, yelling at us to get back. We'd been visiting friends and were on our way home. We were able to get inside a shop and waited until they were gone, but we wouldn't have made it if it weren't for Torchwood."
As she spoke, sadness came into his eyes. "She died that night," Harkness said softly. For a moment he was silent, then looked at her sharply. "How do you know about Weevils?"
"Dad was studying them. Mam was at Torchwood One before I was born, so she had the clearance to know about things. She recognized them, explained some of it to me later."
"Why St. Louis?"
"I first broke into the servers in Cardiff before I started at university." He raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't get much, but I could get a basic outline of what the branches were there for. Since the closing of the Cardiff rift, Torchwood Three has been much quieter. The London, New York, and Los Angeles offices deal with some activity but seem much more about politics. Calgary and St. Louis are more about action, dealing with the smaller rifts that appeared after the Cardiff rift was closed. That's what I want, and since my dad's family is from Springfield, Illinois, St. Louis seemed the better choice of the two."
"So you want to be a field agent," said Harkness. "Fine. Arnie, when's your next predicted rift event?"
"Tonight. 8:17."
"Good. Meet us in front of your cafe promptly at 8."
"Yes, sir," managed Sam as Harkness turned and stalked away, his great coat flowing out behind him dramatically. She managed to make it back into her apartment before letting out the whoop of joy.
TW TW TW TW
The girl was prompt—another way she reminded him of Ianto. She hadn't worn the suit though—practical, but rather a shame as she'd looked good in it. But he couldn't complain about the current attire either, though it smacked more of Gwen or Tosh than Ianto—tight jeans in dark blue, thigh high boots and a figure hugging knee length coat, both in black leather. The shirt was blue, just the color of her eyes. She should have worn red. I bet she'd look good in red.
"Looking good, Ms. Gordon," he said appreciatively as she approached, and then his breath caught as she merely arched an eyebrow instead of deigning to reply.
"Captain Harkness, Mr. Wright," she said politely. "Officer Hilliard."
"Frankie's fine," came the former cop's reply. He was tall and broad, his blond hair cropped close and set off by a trim mustache. Jack liked the young man, even if he didn't take well to his teasing. They'd brought him along because they knew Samantha knew of him already. Two other team members—weapons specialist Jessie Alvarez and medic Maria Denbesten—were nearby in the team SUV. Jack and Arnie were taking no chances with a rookie.
"Sam," she said with a smile as she accepted his outstretched hand.
"So you're the reason my desktop has plants," he said conversationally.
"They're leeks, one of the national plants of Wales. I hoped your captain would pick up on it."
Jack grinned. "Not my favorite part of Wales. I liked the dragons in the Archives better." Ianto would have arched an eyebrow; Jack was still trying to decide if he'd have been irritated or amused. Or both.
"My next trick was to get one of the computers speaking with a Welsh accent," she said with a smirk. Frankie smiled slightly. Arnie rolled his eyes.
"Now that was one of my favorite parts of Wales," said Jack with a grin. "All those beautiful vowels." He turned to Sam, and his breath caught again as she rolled her eyes at him.
"I'm sure that constitutes some form of harassment, sir," she said. His mind reeled as he heard those same words in another Welsh accent, coming from a mouth set beneath another upturned nose and pair of blue eyes, but he couldn't let his grief out. Not now. He shot her a saucy wink instead.
"So, Arnie, what have we got?"
TW TW TW TW
Sam sat at one of the tables in front of the café, holding her head in her hands. Her one chance to get in, to achieve the dream she'd had for so long, and she'd screwed it up royally.
It should have been easy. The rift had deposited what looked for all the world like a curling iron from the 1950's. Captain Harkness and Mr. Wright had been scanning it while Officer Hilliard stood to the side, but she'd gone forward to pick it up, thinking that as the newbie they were leaving it for her. Wright had shouted at her to stop, but it was too late. She'd already touched it.
A bolt of light shot out of it and struck Frankie Hilliard, who had fallen to the ground. Before any of them could get to him, he'd jumped back up with an expression of manic glee and gone tearing off down the street. It had taken them two hours to track him down through residential districts as he jumped fences and knocked over garbage cans and barked at dogs and generally caused mayhem. He'd giggled wildly as they held him long enough for the team medic, whose name she'd not been given, to inject him with a sedative. The rest of the team had taken him back to the secret base she now knew was called the Ranch; only Captain Jack Harkness remained.
"I imagine you're going to offer me a glass of water to calm down," she said finally as she forced herself to look up at him. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm from Cardiff, Captain. Everyone knows that Torchwood offers something to drink, and then you don't remember what happened." She dropped her gaze. "I won't fight it. I hardly expect you to allow me to remember your team after I demonstrated gross incompetence."
Harkness dropped into the chair beside her, chuckling slightly. "I'm reminded of another person's first day. Some of the rest of us were tossing tools back and forth, so she decided she'd join in. Unlike us though, she missed and accidentally released an alien gas that killed about a dozen people before we managed to contain it."
Sam gasped in horror. "What happened to her?"
"She's now the head of Torchwood Cardiff." Sam jerked her head up to meet his eyes. His gaze was serious as he continued. "You're human. You're going to make mistakes. Because of who we are and what we do, sometimes mistakes get people killed. You're lucky that yours didn't, but you might not be so lucky next time."
"Next time, sir?"
"You made a mistake, yes. But the point isn't you being perfect. The point is how you deal with discovering you're not. You stayed cool and in control even though you were afraid of what would happen. You shouldered the blame without whining about it, and you were willing to accept a punishment that would destroy your dreams. Those are the sorts of qualities I need."
"You mean…"
"Welcome to Torchwood, Samantha Gordon."