EPISODE ONE –
A woman jolted upright in bed with a startled gasp, dripping with sweat and anxiety as she shook her right hand to restore feeling into it. She could feel the powerful muscle in the palm of her hand, blood dripping between her fingertips. She raised her hand and wriggled her fingers before her eyes to ensure that it was just a dream. It was too realistic for her liking, waking up and gagging to the point where it seemed to feel that she was returning to life. Her partner was sleeping soundly beside her and grunted upon her poking of his shoulder. Frustrated that he wasn't responding to her poke, she got to her feet and fluffed out her blonde hair from its restless look. It was very early morning, and she looked at the clock to see that it was three thirty. Shaking her head at the repetitiveness of her dreams and how violent they were becoming she wondered briefly if there was a reason behind it.
She jumped a little as she felt the sheets rustle on the bed to see her partner sitting up, his muscular back facing her and he therefore stretched, allowing his hands to rest on his thighs with the sheet still gently draped around them. She turned on the bedside light to make the shadows around her stop recreating the scenes of her dreams.
"I was having the most wonderful dream", he began, his rounded British accent with just a scent of American causing the woman behind him to glare. He knew how to hit her when it came to sarcasm. He got up and faced her, allowing the sheet to drop exposing his naked form. "I assume you were not?"
She shook her head and dressed in a thin dressing gown, which she had taken from the nearby open wardrobe stuffed with dirty clothes from the day before for the washing hamper was full. "You're not helping, John". She grumbled. "I think I need help, this time I..." she looked at him now as he decided to put on some pants and moved around the bed to stand behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist, his overnight breath stale on the nape of her neck. "...I died. My own heart was beating in my hand, and a man. A man was there". She felt his fingertips draw back folds of her blonde hair as he kissed her neck gently. "The one I've been dreaming about".
"Hmm", the man called John began, drawing her a little closer. "What was his name again? Ah... yes... Jack?" he felt her wince as he held her tighter as John spoke that name. "He was not the one who killed you?" He did honestly seem concerned, as she turned around in his arms to face him. She let her arms drop onto his broad shoulders and she lightly kissed him. "I'll take that as a no". He smiled a little. "Since we're up, how about we go for a walk?"
"A walk?" Her eyes darted at his manic suggestion. "It's freezing outside. Besides, unlike some I have to start work in two hours". She drew her arms away from around his neck and put her hands on his wrists as his hands fell from her waist. "Sorry, John. These dreams are just making me fall apart mentally. All this talk about a... Torchwood, and after what happened recently with the children, I'm beginning to wonder if it is a message of some sort".
John's fingers clenched as he listened to her speak, she had always been brutally honest with him to the point where she allowed him to sleep with her for the first time. "Don't talk nonsense, Simone", he started, a little firmer than he expected to sound. "All right. I'll contact my psychic friend tomorrow and see if she can help you make some sense out of these dreams. All this talk about that Jack is making me a little jealous". He allowed his upper lip to curl into a smirk as he drew Simone into a hug, caressing her hair between his fingertips. "If I had my way, that Jack of yours would be dead by my hand for tormenting you so". There was something about his words that made Simone suggest he was being serious. He drew away from her slightly, this time letting his fingertips caress her high cheekbone. "Back to bed, hmm? I have a sure way that will help relax you over the next two hours".
Simone frowned, her full lips then pursing and she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know... I'm really not in the..." she was cut off when he kissed her, the kiss that always made her weak at the knees. "...I suppose I'm up for one more round..." she let him lead her to the bed as he gingerly took off her dressing gown. "...I love it when you're jealous of my dreams". A brief moan escaped as the bedside light turned off.
The Australian Government didn't have to look very far for Captain Jack Harkness. He was sitting on a bench in Brunswick Street, located in the infamous Fortitude Valley, reading a well thumbed copy of the MX newspaper given free to those who used the city's public transport. It was winter during the year 2010, the cool night causing a decline in a lot of usual party goers around the area. Jack was unaware however that the Government were looking for him, but he knew for a fact that a Torchwood did exist in the city roughly around the time he joined the team in Cardiff. Therefore, following the events of the 456 it would only be a matter of time before the Government caught up with him and would no doubt ask him to form a new team capable of defending this country against harmful aliens and technology.
There was nothing back for him in Cardiff. Jack had made the cruel but necessary decision to sacrifice his own grandson against Steven's will to end his short life by transmitting the frequency which destroyed the 456 and thusly saving the children of Earth. The look in his daughter's eyes was traumatic, Alice would never speak to him again and he found it rather ironic how the name seemed to haunt him since his first days in Torchwood. He'd lost Ianto, the only part of his life which kept him going, kept him above ground and life had taken him as well. Gwen was the only surviving member of his team, but by now she would be dealing with a newborn and a demanding husband. There were rumours that Gwen was trying to shift through the rubble of the Hub and form another Torchwood in the ruins of the outpost where they were hiding during the invasion of the 456. It made Jack proud, and he felt a little brighter with how much he had moulded Gwen over the years. She was no longer upholding the law like the Police Woman she once was; she was determined to protect the Earth no matter the cost.
But there was no point going back to Cardiff just to see another team destroyed under his leadership. Jack himself believed that he was a curse, killing everything he touched. Even the Doctor was ridden with a dangerous jealousy that much he picked up during the Dalek invasion. There was something else that the Doctor refused to tell him, a flicker of hope in those ancient eyes upon his young face. Something that made Jack feel that perhaps his accidental immortality was a gift after all.
Jack came to Australia as a sort of escape when his Vortex Manipulator had once again died out. The Doctor was right about that one, too. He recalled the amount of times the Doctor tried to disable his beloved Time Agency wrist strap and Jack had always been able to fix it, becoming used to how the Doctor's sonic screwdriver worked.
Jack wasn't technically reading the newspaper, he was hoping it would be a good distraction from the thoughts that plagued his mind. Yet, something glistened at the corner of his eye and he looked up from the column allowing patrons of public transport to express their views when his eyes spotted the cause of the glistening in the corner of his eye and it turned out to be something darting into existence and then flashing out of existence once more. He rose to his feet out of curiosity, letting the paper fall to the ground and then Jack picked it up as his next move was to put it in the rubbish bin nearby. Clearly that was a rift spike, which meant clearly the Torchwood Hub must be located somewhere in the city. Another thing that alerted him was the fact that if these rift spikes was dangerously common; another dangerous object would have escaped from its clutches.
Captain John Hart. The mere delicious mockery of Jack's own name, the man had amusingly been in rehab for sex, drugs, booze and murder. A small smile crossed his lips at the thought of seeing John again, the twisted sod did try to kill Jack's team and eventually attempted to murder Jack himself. Ah, the look of surprise on John's face when Jack returned from the dead. No doubt John did escape from the rift again, for Jack had seen him at Ianto's funeral, the pair lingering in the back to avoid confrontation by Ianto's sister. Eye candy, John had called him. It was always a competition between Jack and John, somehow John would always manage to snatch a love interest right under Jack's nose, and Jack would do the same. Yet, when John had kidnapped Grey and used him as a way to get to Jack – their already awkward relationship changed dangerously. Jack was saving a broken nose for John the next time he saw him instead of a decent grope.
Jack wandered to the area where he last saw the creature zipping from the rift, the energy trembling in his fingertips as he walked. Ahead of him he saw a rowdy drunken crowd consisting of five females and a pair of men. Jack shook his head, recalling his roguish years and the first time Emily and Alice saw him – lying in a drunken heap out the back of a Cardiff bar smelling of animal manure. To be honest, he had them to thank for rebuilding his life and giving him hope of finding the Doctor again. If he hadn't been found by them and recruited to Torchwood, his journey to find the Doctor would have been a lot more difficult without the aid of the Rift's energy and the TARDIS's subsequent need to recharge. The rowdy crowd were waiting for a Maxi Taxi, and Jack kept a close eye on them. They didn't appear to be violent, just loud and annoying like most under the influence.
He stretched as he walked past the group and his hands dropped into his pockets as one of the girls threw him a wave.
"Hey handsome, fancy a party?" She asked him with a slur and staggering onto her friend to the left. The both ended up laughing loudly, stoping each other from falling over completely. "Always room for one more". She looked rather curvy and seemed to be a bit taller than most women Jack had known. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail, obviously hinting it had been let out during the night and she had picked up a rogue rubber band to tie it back. Unlike the others who were smoking and clashing half drunken beer bottles, she seemed the most sober out of the group. Like a strange enzyme in her body was enabling her to control her alcohol better than most.
Jack looked over the woman in question and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a bit pre occupied at the moment, thanks for the offer". The accent that came from Jack caused the girls to look rather limp. He noticed their reaction, and figured it would be best to keep on walking.
"Wait... you're American?" The woman asked him, wandering away from the group now and twirling a strand of blonde hair between her fingers. "Hmm... such a nice coat, too", her fingers drifted down his arm as she caught up with his walking pace.
Jack turned roughly, clearly uninterested at her advances. He was still grieving over the death of Ianto and the last thing he needed was some drunken woman throwing herself at his feet. His old self would have appreciated such an offer, but not this time. He raised his index finger and clenched his jaw, then dropped his hand with a sigh. "Your taxi is here". He turned slowly to make an indication that he was not interested in her. Well of course he wasn't – she appeared to be nineteen years old, Jack himself forgetting the legal age was eighteen. Yet she didn't leave his side, in fact her energy seemed to be clinging onto him like a mouldy bathroom mat in a rundown hotel. He met her eyes, ready for her mental challenge but he seemed to only make things worse between them.
She gazed at him with a frown, her hazel eyes flickering. "There's been some funny things happening, aliens, they say. My mother disappeared about three months ago, hasn't been seen anywhere since. She's forever updating her Facebook status, texting me, but nothing lately. Sorry to bother you but there's something... something about you I can't understand. I think you can help me". This time it wasn't the alcohol talking, Jack could tell from her tone. She had clearly taken up the habit after the disappearance of her mother and no doubt a probable psychic ability. Something to numb the voices, he'd seen it happen too many times. Frowning a little for her misfortune, Jack whispered the name of the hotel he was staying in upon her right ear.
"Ask for Jack", he began, standing back. Her perfume was quite strong and it reminded him of an exotic encounter with a beautiful human woman on a planet at the edge of the Universe. "If you remember by the morning, I'll do my best to help you". He was tempted to ask how she knew that he could help her. Perhaps he was meant to be in Australia after all, the country at the bottom of the world lying somewhat forgotten by most of the superpowers after the Second World War. It would have only been a matter of time before the trapped rift had escaped and would no doubt cause mayhem on the so called quiet country. She caught his words and nodded, glancing to the group and frowning once more.
"He's back, by the way, just thought I should tell you". She shrugged her shoulders, stumbled back to the group and pushed her way into the taxi taking up a seat at the rear. Her friend next to her vomited, Jack catching the retching motion as the blonde teen offered a source of comfort. The others were laughing, and he stared at the Taxi for a good few minutes as it quickly drifted out of sight into the early morning air.
"He's back?" Jack said to himself. It could only mean one thing. His initial thoughts about John were becoming clearer, and if the Australian Government were looking for him to start a new team – Jack was already one step ahead. If this alcoholic psychic could prove herself, she could help him find new members, track down John and the new team could work on a way to control the rift completely. Jack stood a little taller as he could tell dawn was carefully approaching. For a brief moment in time he could have sworn he saw Ianto, Tosh and Owen nodding approvingly for his decision to start an Australian team in the distance.
The alarm on Simone's iPhone taunted her from a brief deep sleep following her earlier play with John. He was right, for a man with so many secrets he sure knew how to relax her. Simone sighed and sat up, looking over John to the window on the left. She hated early morning starts during winter – the sun wasn't even up and she'd had to struggle to find decent winter gear for it had been Brisbane's coldest winter on record the last few mornings. She ran her fingers through her hair and got out of bed, gently walking to the wardrobe where she then fished through an assortment of clothing until she found her uniform. Simone Anderson worked at one of the busy city Cafe's as an assistant manager but she preferred to get up early so most of the preparation was out of the way involving their cakes, pastries, pies and sandwiches. She forgot to turn the alarm off and it rang once again, hearing John grunt from his deep sleep she was nearly tempted to throw it at him. He had a horrible way of just knowing how to mock her, but all in all the pair had a fairly stable relationship.
As Simone gathered her uniform and underwear she wandered out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. She switched on the light, closing the door and dumped her clothes onto the floor. She stepped into the shower and let the warm water fall delicately over her body as another vision flashed past her closed eyes. The man she had been dreaming about was caressing her naked form as they lay in bed together. His hands were much softer than John's, and his kisses sent ripples of pleasure down the nerves in her body. Simone snapped her eyes open to find that she had fallen onto the floor of the shower, water quickly rising around her because she had blocked the drain with her elbow. She could hear John banging on the door, calling her name, no doubt the fall had caused a crash for the shampoo and conditioner tray was sprawled around her. Simone groaned, tasting blood in her mouth. She must have hit her jaw pretty hard. Slowly she got to her trembling feet and turned the water off. She got out of the shower and picked her towel off the railing and hurried to open the door before John would be tempted to break it down.
He stared at her in a fit of worry, unusual for him. "What the hell happened?" He then masked his concern with his usual sarcastic tone. "Were you pleasuring yourself without me?"
Simone's pale blue eyes narrowed as she gripped the towel tighter around her breasts. Her blonde hair was dripping past her shoulders, and her lip was beginning to swell. "They're getting worse, no – I am not calling in sick to work. We're low on staff as it is". She twitched as he touched her lip. "They've never been this strong, I... I can't make sense of it, I could feel him touching me this time".
John struggled to reason with Simone's fear. Her eyes were wide with confused emotions. He looked to the fallen bathroom necessities in the bottom of the shower and soon realised that Simone's case was rather serious. "I'll see you at lunch, then". He turned to leave. "What did you say that man's name was again?"
Simone thought for a moment. The name flashed into her mind and she said it with a fearful tone. "Jack. I.. think... Jack Harkness".
The brief flicker of humanity in John Hart soon left him at the mention of his rival's name. He smiled a dark undertone as he looked over his shoulder at Simone. This was getting interesting; perhaps there was a reason after all why John found her to be so attractive. "If you have another vision... tell him that John is watching". His tone left Simone feeling even more confused amongst the midst of her betraying emotions toward the man she loved.
Did John mean what he said? Simone pondered the thought as she dressed.
John in the meantime was sitting in the lounge, watching early morning cartoons on a children's Foxtel channel. Being born in the fifty-first Century and then starting to slowly realise why his rival enjoyed living on such a world, watching such channels was also helping John understand how these Earth children dealt with life on a daily basis. He knew about the 456 invasion, the way those creatures managed to control the open mind of the millions of Earth children with just a simple frequency. As time went on, he was becoming aware that the veil between reality and the spiritual realms was slowly breaking apart – hence the recent spikes in the rift and not to mention Simone's dreams becoming more vivid. Another female he had befriended, Desiree, a nineteen year old alcoholic who had an incredible psychic ability would be the one he hoped to help Simone with her problem. All this time he had known Simone, she seemed... incredibly familiar. The fact that she dreamt about Jack in such erotic positions meant only one thing. Simone was obviously in a Torchwood team with Jack, and John started to wonder which one.
John hadn't told Simone any of this. He was talented when it came to keeping his secrets and merely teasing her with the way he touched her and protected her. Simone was different from any woman or man he had been with. He was honestly starting to question himself if he loved her and she wasn't just a dirty romp on the side as an escape from his addictive past. Simone seemed to have her questions, though. Her eyes were trying to find his soul, peel him back like a ripe banana and chew on the mash within his being. Simone was good – he had to admit. For a woman who was struggling with dangerous dreams, she had tamed him. A little bit. Not too much, but just a little bit. Hell, he was amused with himself the other day how he figured out to work the washing machine. John was worried about the thought of becoming a domesticated human male, but if Jack was involved with Simone in the past he was determined to find out the why's and how's. If push came to shove, Simone was his. There was no doubt about it. The problem was... what would happen if she met Jack? Would she remember him?
John wouldn't let that happen.
"I might be a little late coming home", Simone said as she entered the lounge room, pinning her hair up with bobby pins "One of the afternoon girls called in sick".
"Let me guess", John began, turning to see Simone in her partly dressed uniform. It lacked the name badge and shoes, and he assumed she would be putting them on shortly. "Desiree?"
Simone nodded with a sigh. "John, I know you think she's all right but... if she keeps doing this I'm going to have to let her go". She frowned. "Hold on, who did you say that psychic friend of yours was?"
John said nothing. He merely eyed Simone, and she picked up on it pretty quickly.
"Oh, God. All right, I'll give her one more chance..." She watched as John got to his feet and drew her into a slight embrace. He lightly touched her lip with his. "...now people are going to think I was beaten up". She laughed gently.
"I'll still see you at lunch. Remember what I said, all right?" He let her leave his arms. As she disappeared into the bedroom, John found his red jacket with whale bones pinned across the chest. With Simone at work, he could spend the morning locating Jack. No doubt his rival was close by, he could feel it. Searching around the house he found his favourite pair of pants and boots, after putting them on, he ensured Simone was still busy readying herself. In the hallway was a portrait hanging on the right hand wall where underneath was a brown antique table. It was a small table with four legs, elegantly shaped. Apparently it had been in Simone's family for centuries. Atop of that was a bronze vase – another family heirloom. The vase was empty, and as John looked at the portrait which was ironically a painting of Cardiff in the 1900's, he crouched to the ground. Feeling around the carpet underneath the table, he found a loose thread and yanked it upright. Underneath was a floorboard and John fiddled with it until it came loose. Quickly he pulled out a silver container which had gathered dust. He could hear Simone nearby. He worked just as quickly to put everything back into order as he hid the container under his jacket and Simone approached him from behind. He could feel she was eyeing him curiously.
"See you..." She said, waved, and wandered to the front door. She unlocked the large wooden door, then the screen door, and closed both after her.
John took the silver container from underneath his jacket and opened it. Inside was his weapon collection, recalling the time he first stepped into Torchwood and Jack made him remove his beloved weapons. Such a violent assortment, various pistols, knives, fist weapons – in fact it slightly turned him on at the thought of what Simone would think if she knew he had these hidden under their house. He started to strap them to his body, one by one, in the special holsters he had created, all the while thinking about Jack. Was there another reason for him to be in this country despite the obvious fact that Brisbane had a rift? Jack wasn't stupid, John hated to admit that truthful fact. But if John's assumptions were correct then he had a fair idea that Simone was a reincarnated lover of Captain Jack Harkness. It inwardly made John's blood boil, the jealousy was seeping through his pores like a teenager's acne rising to the surface. Hmm. How amusing, he thought to himself. Perhaps Simone was worthwhile after all. As he put on his old wrist strap, he wandered to the bedroom. He glanced at the messed up bed where he had previously made love to Simone not too long ago. Grinning at his reflection as he flexed, he appeared to be highly pleased with himself. "You may not be able to die, friend, but I'll ensure you'll want to once I'm through with you".