Come morning, Methos managed to rent a car with little fuss; the manager of the rental dealer decided not to question his muddy, disheveled appearance when Methos handed over an extra two hundred pounds.
Once he had the keys, they headed straight for the M4 and Cardiff. Phoenix spared a moment to mourn the belongings they had been forced to leave behind, especially after her shopping trip in New York, the week before. However, she knew that it was necessary if they were going to evade the Hunters, and Methos assured her that he would have their things sent somewhere safe until they could be retrieved.
Thankfully, it was early enough in the day that traffic was fairly light, and they made the journey in just over two hours. Once in Cardiff, Methos returned the car at the local office for the rental dealer, and he and Phoenix set off on foot. They got more than a few stares as they made their way towards the bay, still in the clothes that had been soaked in the muddy water of the Thames.
They stopped for a moment as Methos gathered his bearings. They had reached Mermaid Quay, now he just had to remember which way to go from here. It had been thirty years since he'd been in Cardiff, and the city had changed since then. However, some things were the same. As he looked around, he caught a glimpse of the grungy, run-down tourist information center that marked their destination.
"Aha! Here we go," he said, taking Phoenix's hand and leading her to the almost non-existent store front.
She looked at him warily as he pushed open the door to reveal the cramped office inside, "I'm just gonna go out on a limb here and guess that we're not going the 'hide in plain sight at the local tourist trap' route?"
"Not exactly," he replied, leaning over the counter, looking for something.
After a moment of searching, he pressed a button behind the counter, and one of the walls slid back to allow them through to passageway beyond. The wall slid back into place behind them, and a lift opened up at the other end. Methos pressed a button, and the lift began to descend, what Phoenix judged to be a good hundred feet below the pavement above. Once the lift reached the bottom, they were released into another passageway, and a cog door rolled back, ahead of them.
Phoenix's eyebrows shot up at the sheer magnitude of the room revealed to them. The ceiling was at least three stories, and in the center stood a large column matching the obelisk she had seen above in Roald Dahl Plass. A tidal basin ran around the base of the obelisk, and a grating platform allowed access around the room. There were work stations set up with the latest in computer technology, and there was hardware there that she knew was not for public consumption. And as if the overall magnificence of it all was not enough, a loud shrieking drew her attention upwards to see—
"A pterodactyl," she murmured.
"Actually, she's a pteranodon," a voice corrected, descending the stairs from the second level. "Her name's Myfanwy."
Phoenix looked up to find the speaker, and her jaw dropped as she recognized him. He looked exactly as he had sixty years ago. No wonder the name "Jack Harkness" had sounded familiar.
"Should have known you would keep a dinosaur as a pet," Methos said, regarding Jack with wry amusement.
"I needed a guard dog," Jack shrugged with a wide grin. "Good to see you Cain."
"Ah, it's Adam, now," Methos corrected.
"I stand corrected," Jack noted, before turning his attention to Phoenix, who had finally come out of her shock and was now glaring at him. "Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced himself, giving her the classic Harkness charm that could sell ice to an Eskimo.
"You bastard."
A barked out laugh drew Phoenix's attention away from Jack enough to notice the other man and woman in the room, standing by the workstations and watching the exchange with cautious curiosity.
"So I take it you've met?" asked the wiry man with a London accent.
Jack's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to place her, and remember what he had done to make her mad at him.
"October, 1943, Guam, ringing any bells?" she asked, smiling in satisfaction when his eyes widened.
"Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh,'" she parroted, coming to stand right in front of him. "You owe me fifteen hundred dollars!"
She knew it must be quite a sight for the others, her glaring up at Jack from almost a good foot below him, but she didn't really care.
"Fifteen hundred… What for?" Jack sputtered.
"That dress you destroyed, it was a Balenciaga, you moron! Be glad I'm not adjusting for inflation, or you'd owe me about twenty grand. And that's U.S. dollars, thank you very much. One thousand five hundred thirteen dollars and seventy-two cents."
"Okay, slow down," Methos interrupted, placing his hands on Phoenix's shoulders and pulling her several steps back from Jack. "Why don't we start with introductions, and then you can tell me why you once defaced my girlfriend's wardrobe?"
"Of course," Jack replied, grateful for the temporary reprieve, and he turned back to start with those behind him. "That's Toshiko Sato, computer wiz; Owen Harper, doctor-slash-coroner-slash-pain-in-the-ass; and Ianto Jones, expert on pretty much anything and maker of the best coffee on the planet," he finished with the suited man that had followed him down the stairs. "The last member of our team is currently on her honeymoon."
"Adam Pierson and Anna Hunter," Methos introduced their current identities, releasing Phoenix to walk around the tidal basin as he took in his surroundings. "You've certainly upgraded since I left, though I must say, I think some of those tourist brochures were there when I worked here."
"You worked for Torchwood?" Tosh asked.
"Back in the seventies," Methos nodded, able to see the question already forming on her lips, "don't ask. Cardiff was a good place to hide out, and the company wasn't too bad, either," he finished, glancing over at Jack.
"Don't tell me you two…?" Owen trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. "Oh, come on, Jack, seriously, how many exes are you going to bring in here?"
Phoenix raised an eyebrow at Methos, "'Ex?' You failed to mention the guy we would be hiding out with was your ex."
"Sure I did," he shrugged.
"No, you didn't."
"Jealous?" he smirked.
"Maybe, but it doesn't really matter, considering I know where you sleep at night," she finished with a sly smile that bordered on feral.
"Anyway, back to my previous question. Why did you destroy Anna's haute couture?" Methos asked Jack, clearing his throat and gathering his wits from where Phoenix had scattered them.
"Well, back then, I knew her as Rebecca Norton," Jack fielded.
"You idiot, I told you I'd be fine, but no! You had to go and tear up one of Balenciaga'a personal designs! That dress was a gift from Eleanor Roosevelt as a thank-you for my work in the war. It was a work of art. Balenciaga's dresses have hung in the Met. And you had to destroy it!"
Phoenix was once again seething, and Methos had to physically bar her from reaching Jack, for fear she might actually injure him. Granted, he knew Jack would survive, but he didn't want to deal with that right now.
"Okay, in calm words of no more than three syllables, can someone please explain what happened?"
"We were at a gala for some of the Allied bigwigs in the Pacific," Jack began, "black tie and dress blues. Anyway, about midway through the scheduled evening, the Japanese begin bombing the base we were on. Anna and I managed to take cover, but not before a piece of shrapnel lodged itself in her chest. I pulled it out and tore out a piece of the lining of her dress to try to stop the bleeding. I thought I was helping," he shrugged.
"You could have just put a bullet in my head. I would've rathered my hair be ruined than my dress," Phoenix growled.
"How was I supposed to know what would happen?" Jack defended himself.
"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," Methos interrupted. "Jack, Anna's not gonna let this drop until she gets restitution for the dress, or she kills you. Depends on how cheap you've gotten, but I know how much you hate the headaches that come with getting shot in the head. And you," he continued, turning to Phoenix, "you are going to behave. We need his help. Got it?"
"I think I can manage to replace the dress," Jack offered, trusting Methos' judgment of the situation.
"You'd better," Phoenix grumbled. Methos gave her a pointed look and she sighed, "Fine, I promise I won't kill Jack. Happy?"
"Quite," he grinned.
"Well, now that that's out of the way, you mentioned needing my help?" Jack asked.
"We need a place to lay low for a while," Methos told him.
"I think we can manage that. Ianto?"
"The old staff quarters haven't been used in a while, but they're still livable. I can have them sorted quickly," the Welshman assured him.
"Great, thanks," Jack said, turning back to Methos and Phoenix and taking a good look at them. "You two look like you could use a drink."
Jack returned the way he had come, and Methos prompted Phoenix to follow. Owen and Tosh watched them ascend the stairs, wondering what exactly was going on.
Once up in his office, Jack poured two glasses of scotch and handed them to the two Immortals as they took seats on the couch.
"Okay, what's going on?" Jack asked, leaning back on his desk. "I haven't heard from either of you in over thirty years, and you suddenly show up on my doorstep out of the blue. And don't tell me you were just feeling nostalgic."
"A cell of Hunters picked us up in New York, a few days ago," Phoenix explained.
"We went to London via Miami, Cairo, and Paris," Methos added. "We thought we'd lost them, but they found us last night. We jumped off the Tower Bridge into the Thames to shake them off our tail, and ended up spending the night under a river dock."
"I think I remember you talking about Hunters," Jack told Methos. "Mortals who hunt down Immortals for sport, right?"
"And these have a grudge, apparently," Methos continued. "These guys worked with another Hunter who was killed several years ago, Martin Keppler."
Phoenix took a swig of the aged liquor, as if trying to drown that particular memory. The sight of her own sword being leveled at her neck was one that still haunted her nightmares. Jack noted the action and considered the ramifications.
"Let me guess, you killed him," he supposed.
"Not him," Phoenix corrected quietly. "My boyfriend and his partner were detectives for Cascade Police. Keppler was gonna kill me, so Blair shot him."
Jack caught the look Methos gave Phoenix as she knocked back the rest of the scotch. There was far more than she was saying, but he didn't press. He knew that haunted look in her eyes, he saw it in the mirror often enough.
"So, these guys aren't gonna lose interest any time soon, I'm guessing?"
"They followed us through four countries. I doubt it," Methos snarked.
"Point taken," Jack conceded. "Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need to, as long as you don't mind being put to work."
"What exactly is your work?" Phoenix asked. "I remember you talking about Torchwood, way back when, but you never said what it is you do."
"We catch aliens," Jack stated plainly. "We manage the threats and scavenge what we can to defend Earth."
"There's this rift in space and time that runs through the middle of Cardiff, kind of like a fault line. It periodically spits out creatures and objects from anywhere and anywhen," Methos added.
"You're alien catchers," she said, noding slowly. "Well, guess that's about as plausible as people who live forever and run around with swords trying to cut each other's heads off."
Phoenix looked at Methos, the question in her eyes of whether or not they were safe. He gave her a resigned smile, as if to say that they were probably safer there than they were anywhere else.
"I imagine I could learn a thing or two from your Dr. Harper," Methos shrugged, looking back at Jack.
"As long as it's not his bedside manner," replied Ianto, entering Jack's office. "Your quarters are ready."
"Thanks," Phoenix said, offering him a small smile. "Oh, that reminds me, we're gonna need some new clothes. We had to leave our stuff in London, and what we're wearing got soaked in the Thames."
"Not a problem, ma'am," Ianto replied.
"Ugh, please, don't call me ma'am" Phoenix groused. "I didn't even like it when my students called me that. So if we're gonna be staying here for a while, I certainly don't want you calling me that."
"Yes, ma'am," Ianto replied, a smile escaping at her frankness. He eyed her up and down, "You would be a size four?"
"Six," she corrected, a grin spreading at Ianto's estimate. "I think we're gonna get along just fine, Ianto Jones."
As she considered the young man, she felt a light tingling in the back of her head, similar to what she felt from Methos, but not as strong. She realized she was feeling the buzz of a pre-Immortal, meaning that Ianto was one of them. She looked at Methos to confirm that he felt it, too.
"How about you two get cleaned up down in my bathroom, and we'll see about getting you some new clothes," Jack suggested.
"I can take Tosh and be back in an hour," Ianto offered.
"Here, use this," Jack said, handing the Welshman a plastic card from his wallet.
Phoenix and Methos shared a look once Ianto had gone.
"Did you feel it?" she asked, with a smile.
"Yes, and I know that look," he groused good-naturedly. "What do you have in mind?"
She grinned and pulled the dagger from her boot, fingering the blade.
"No!" Methos protested. "You are not killing him! You are not going to take away any chances that boy has of a normal life!"
"Look at where he works," she countered. "I'm guessing any hope for normal went out the window a long time ago. It's gonna happen sooner or later. Wouldn't it be better to be under controlled circumstances, instead of getting torn apart by some alien?"
Methos sighed. He knew Phoenix had a point, but it still rankled with him to force their life upon someone. Ianto had a chance to live a normal life and die of old age, though admittedly that chance was miniscule, considering that the average Torchwood employee was dead by thirty-five.
"Okay, what's going on?" Jack asked, reminding them that he was in the room.
"Ianto's one of us," Methos explained. "Or rather, he will be, after he's killed."
"Are you sure?" Jack questioned quietly, half hoping they were right and half dreading the implications.
"The same thing that allows us to sense the presence of other Immortals also allows us to detect the potential in one yet to be," the old Immortal continued. "Ianto has this potential. He'll continue to live a normal mortal life until he's killed, at which point he'll become Immortal."
"The first death is always violent, and usually the worst," Phoenix said. "All I'm suggesting is we minimize the trauma involved."
"You want to kill Ianto to make him Immortal," Jack said slowly. "I'm honestly not sure how I feel about that."
He took a deep breath and leaned heavily on his desk as the repercussions of this revelation settled in. He had long considered his immortality a curse he wouldn't even wish on his worst enemy, and the idea of his beloved Welshman facing a similar fate was borderline repulsive. However, he could not deny that a part of him was overjoyed at the prospect of not having to spend eternity alone.
When his mind finally stopped spinning and settled, he knew that such a thing should not be up to them. Working for Torchwood, Ianto's chances of an early death were an almost certainty. Jack saw no need to rush things.
"Come on," Jack began, attempting to shake off the heavy mood that had settled, "you can get cleaned up, downstairs, and I'll get some clothes for you to wear until Ianto gets back."
He lifted the trap door and descended the ladder that led down into his bunker. As he pulled out some clothes that would do for a short period, Methos took in the changes in the small room. It had been almost forty years since he had left Torchwood and Jack, but the major details remained. The double bed and bureau were in the same place as they had been many years ago, but there was now a CD player next to the turntable.
He also recognized the tell-tale signs of a second part-time occupant. The neatness of the stack of books and the folded clothes pointed to the young pre-Immortal being Jack's current lover. That explains his reaction, Methos realized. Jack knew the kind of life that came with Immortality, even though he himself was not one, and he didn't want Ianto to have to deal with that. But on the other hand, Immortality meant that Jack would finally have someone he really could spend the rest of his life with.
Jack opened the bureau and removed two tee shirts and pairs of sweatpants, setting them on the bed.
"They won't fit well, but it's something to wear until Ianto and Tosh get back with clothes that do. I'll be up in my office when you're done."
Jack ascended the ladder out of his bunker, leaving the two Immortals alone. Methos took a look at Phoenix and could tell that the exhaustion was catching up with her. She wasn't used to running like they had been for the past week. Her five hundred plus years had been spent in relative peace, the most trauma coming from when her tribe had been rounded up with the rest of the Cherokee in northern Georgia and herded out to Oklahoma. Being hunted was something new.
Gently, he helped her strip off her mud-caked clothes and piled them aside to be cleaned later. Once he determined the water to be the right temperature, he guided her into the shower and began washing the dirt away. He massaged shampoo in her hair and rinsed away the muddy lather, making sure the comb the tangles out. Once they were both clean, he grabbed a towel and rubbed her dry before dressing her in the clothes Jack had laid out. It took little prompting to get her to lie down on the bed, and it was only minutes before she was in a deep sleep.
Once Methos was satisfied that Phoenix was out, he ascended the ladder back up to Jack's office. He found the other man sitting at his desk pretending to read a report on recent rift activity.
"How is she?" Jack asked, looking up from the paperwork.
"Sleeping, right now," Methos replied, slouching down on the couch. "The past week has been hard enough, and spending the night roosting on the underside of a Thames river dock like some pigeon didn't help. She's lived the most peaceful life an Immortal can have outside of Holy Ground; she's never had to run like this, before, and she's exhausted."
"Well, you two can stay here as long as you need."
"Thanks, Jack," Methos said gratefully.
"You look pretty beat yourself, old man," Jack noted. "Go on back down and get some sleep. You're in a safe place here, and I know you don't find those very often."
Methos couldn't disagree, so he nodded and went back down the ladder. Jack's bed was small but there was room for him to slide in next to Phoenix, wrapping his arms around her slight frame. Instinctively, she rolled over in her sleep and burrowed into his chest.
Their troubles were far from over, but in the Hub at least, they had a temporary respite.
A/N: So, this fic had been beta'd by the wonderful janiemc. The entire thing has been written, so updates should be regular, my schedule allowing.
