A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! It's very encouraging. I was a little worried about letting Kit out into the wide world; sort of like the first day my son went to school!

This story is considerably less fluffy and emotional than my previous ones; at least for now. But there's no telling where the muse will eventually lead.

As always, I don't own anything you recognize. Wouldn't mind having my own TARDIS, though.

Tracking Torchwood

by

Lariel Romeniel

Chapter Two - Lockup

The MPs took Kit's camera and press badge, along with the Doctor's wallet. Then they locked the pair up along with the unconscious man in a second floor office.

"We're going to check your credentials. The chief of security will be in to talk with you in a few minutes. After Atlantis launches," one of the MPs told them before locking the door. Kit pounded at it behind them. "Hey! We didn't do anything! Hey!"

No answer from the other side of the door. She knocked her head against it once, then again, and looked at the Doctor. "They took my camera and I'm gonna miss the launch. My boss is gonna kill me." She sighed. "I'm sorry. You were probably better off staying on the observation gantry."

He waved it off. "What's done is done, Ms. Morgan. No use crying over spilt milk. Water under the bridge, over the dam, we'll let bygones be bygones--"

"I get your point," she interrupted. He blinked at her. "Erm, yes. Well! Right now I'm more interested in hearing about these killers this poor chap was going on about." The man had been dumped on the office sofa. The Doctor leaned over him and gingerly touched the area where he'd been hit. "Hm. No serious damage, although he'll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up in a few minutes."

He was interrupted by a long, low and very loud rumble. "That's main engine startup!" Kit exclaimed.

They ran to the window, which had a perfect view of the three launch pads. On 39A, clouds of smoke were billowing up around Atlantis. Slowly, unbelievably slowly for all the force being exerted, Atlantis rose majestically from her pad, white clouds boiling around her. Up, up and up, piercing the sky.

The Doctor became aware that Kit was holding his arm in a viselike grip as she watched the ascent. She was pressed close against the glass, holding her breath, her eyes wide as they stayed trained on the shuttle. Then there was a sudden flare, and two objects fell away from the craft. Kit closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Safe SRB separation," she said. "Thank goodness."

She suddenly realized that she was holding on to the Doctor's arm. She released him with a blush. "Sorry. I always get nervous during a launch. Challenger's my earliest memory, and I'm always afraid it will happen again."

"It would be better if it did happen again," came a voice behind them. They turned to see the other man sitting up on the sofa, rubbing the sore spot on his head. The Doctor strode over and squatted in front of him. "You talked about killers and destroying," he said.

The other man nodded. "Mike Jacobs," he said by way of introduction. "I'm supercargo for this mission. I'm in charge of making sure all the correct payloads are on board the shuttles. And I thought everything was loaded up correctly when we put the shuttles on the crawlers. But…yesterday in the VAB – the Vehicle Assembly Building – I found boxes and boxes of Guardian materiel. Stuff that's supposed to be on board the shuttles, but it's not."

"They're going up empty?" Kit asked, incredulous. The Doctor answered, figuring it out. "No. Someone changed the cargo."

Jacobs nodded. "I spent all night trying to figure out just what went wrong, digging into the databases. And I found the shuttles are carrying too many nukes. Way too many. More than in the Guardian's specs."

There was a click from the doorknob. The Doctor stood and Jacobs fell silent as the door opened, and a uniformed man walked through. He looked at the three of them for a moment before speaking. "I'm Lieutenant Roberts, chief of security. What an interesting assortment we have here. A fascinating little conspiracy." He fixed them with his cold green gaze, one by one. "Mr. Jacobs, our supercargo." He looked at Kit with a sneer. "Our local video gadfly." Then Roberts walked up to the Doctor, holding his wallet up. "And then you. A mystery man."

"No mystery to me," the Doctor said with an innocent grin, holding his hand out. "Doctor John Smith, British Institute of Science and Technology."

"There is no such place," Roberts said in a steely tone. He moved closer, standing almost nose to nose with the Doctor and hitting him in the chest with the wallet. The Doctor took it back and kept his gaze even. "Who are you?" Roberts demanded.

"Someone who wants to know why the shuttles are carrying so many nuclear weapons," the Doctor replied as he returned the other man's stare.

"You're more than that. You're someone who thinks we're paranoid. Who doesn't want us to be walking around with the biggest, baddest stick we can find. Yes, we looked at the video, Ms. Morgan. Very trite reporting. The off-camera stuff was much more interesting," Roberts smirked.

Kit's face reddened in anger. "Listen, buddy! Ever hear of the First and Fourth Amendments?"

He looked at her, amused. "Of course, Ms. Morgan. Just as you've heard of the 28th." He smiled as she turned white. "Why don't you explain it to your mysterious friend here? Mr. Jacobs and I need to go out for a private conversation." Roberts grabbed Jacobs by the arm and started to walk out the door. Then he stopped and looked back. "By the way, Discovery goes up in just a few moments. Enjoy the launch."

He walked out the door. They heard the snick of the lock, and the Doctor turned to Kit. "28th Amendment?"

"Anti-terrorism amendment," Kit answered, looking at him through narrowed eyes. "You lied to me."

The Doctor strode over to the window again and inspected it. Not good; it was made of shatter-proof glass designed to withstand sonic booms, so breaking it was out of the question. He started studying the frame. The window was welded shut, but he could deal with that. Lucky the guards had thought his sonic screwdriver was merely a pen.. He pulled it out and started running it over the welding. As he worked, he replied, "I admit there's no Institute, and my name isn't John Smith. But I am a doctor. The Doctor, in fact. And I'm a friend."

"Yeah, right."

"Believe me or not. That's not important right now. What does matter is that I'm your ticket out of here," he said, looking over at her. She stared at him for a moment, then nodded, her jaw set. "Good. Tell me about this anti-terrorism amendment."

Kit snorted. "You want to talk paranoia? They passed it to be able to hold terrorism suspects long-term, even permanently, without trial. The last response to 9/11, and it makes me sick."

He continued passing the screwdriver over the weld point. If he could just loosen it enough… "So what happens to people charged under this amendment?"

"Best case, you get deported and I spend a little time in the local pokey. Worst case, we're headed to negative four-star accommodations at the Hotel Gitmo." He glanced back at her quizzically. "You know, Guantanamo Bay?"

He turned back to the window. "Ah. That would be bad."

The sound of a gunshot made Kit whirl. The Doctor went back to work. "I think the worst case scenario just got worse."

Preview Chapter Three - Breakout

"All right, Kit. Ready?"

"No, but I don't have a choice. Let's go!"

They got to their feet and headed toward the door, the Doctor leading. Kit plowed into him when he suddenly grabbed the handrails and stopped at the door. "My, what big teeth you have," he said. Kit poked her head under his arm to see a huge alligator standing directly in front of the door, blocking their way out.