Chapter 3

Later, as Jack lay under the covers quietly snoring Ianto tended to the computer communiqués. Feeling a bit jet lagged, he wanted to sleep too but he knew once Jack awoke, he would not get a chance. Gwen was fine but there still were Weevils to round up. The rift was quiet though, Rhys was keeping an eye on the readings from their apartment – something else Tosh set up. He then decided to review Aliyah's initial reports. Her email brief but informative:

Jack –

I have a case I would appreciate you taking a look at. Seems a statue of a baby is coming to life. Run of the mill, right? Not this one. This one's got wings and is trying to fly (where to we don't quite know). It has gotten quite hostile at our attempts to contain it, having broken through three different cages and one standard force field. I have resorted to a Tilanian box but I am uncertain how long this one will last. More details when you arrive. See the attachment for travel itinerary.

Give my best to Gwen and Rhys!

Aliyah

"One, Aliyah knew Jack was not to going to readily fly alone," Ianto thought. "Two, she knew Rhys would be reluctant to let his new bride go off to New York with Jack Harkness. Three, she knew I was the only person Jack would allow to see him vomit. And four, Aliyah must suspect Jack has some direct knowledge about this case otherwise she simply would have put her Torchwood Jerusalem team on it." And there was this Kyla Reishold or Strossman . . . .

Ianto ran a search of the Torchwood HR archives, going back to the 1930s but found no reference to a Kyla. He knew all Jack's significant relationships from previous searches but this name was not familiar. She could have been a passing fancy but that would not have caused such a reaction out of Jack (more likely she would have that reaction upon hearing his name; Ianto had seen more than a few of Jack's ex's slap the lights out of him – typically for good reasons). No, he will have to wait for the cards to fall on the table or ask Aliyah. Or he could . . . .

"Whatcha doing?" asked a sleepy sounding Jack Harkness.

Ianto nonchalantly closed the computer, "I was checking in with Gwen." He stood and started walking toward the bed giving a yawn as a further distraction, "Seems Weevils like hot tubs."

"Ah yeah?" He sat up, "So, you comin' to bed?"

"Sure." Ianto removed his shirt and pants. He had been working out and monitoring his diet lately, conscious of how Jack seemed to respond well to all types of curves. His efforts were paying off and as he turned his back to put his cufflinks on the nightstand, Ianto heard that familiar slight groan from his lover. "If you were anyone else, I'd think you'd be tired and I'm not talking about jet lag."

"But I'm not like anyone else, now am I?"

Ianto turned in the bed and faced him, "No, Jack Harkness, that you certainly are not." They kissed deeply and later that night likely added a chapter to at least one of The Library's romance novels.

Aliyah and Sarah relaxed on the couch of Amy Ehrlich's office in Temple Emanu-El. Associate Rabbi Ehrlich was away at a conference with her senior, Rabbi David Posner, and, knowing she was coming to New York, Amy asked the always popular Aliyah to offer a d'var Torah, a reflection or commentary on the week's bible portion. Aliyah loved speaking here. Regarded as one of the most majestic synagogues in the world, Emanu-El exterior looks like many basilica-style European cathedrals with an art deco interior popular during the building's construction in 1929. Standing at the bimah, stage left of the ark containing the "Bloomingdale Crowns" (richly decorated hand crafted biblical scrolls given to the congregation in 1891 by the department store magnate), below the colorful voices in the choir loft and rich tones of the largest synagogue organ in the world then surrounded by Moorish mosaics shaping expansive, Byzantine arches, Emanu-el stately structure always reminded Aliyah of one's insignificance in the G-d's universe. That sense of humility kept her grounded, even while negotiating secret intergalactic treaties and helping avoid potential nuclear war in the Holy Land.

Amy and Aliyah had been friends for many years. Amy had introduced Aliyah to her last partner, Abram, and officiated at his funeral a few days after 9-11. Like most of the prominent and influential in the worldwide Jewish community, Amy knew of Aliyah's origins as immortal from the Jershun Prime, a planet settled by Jews when its original inhabitants visited the Egyptians at the time of Moses (an event consciously hidden from the histories of both peoples). But Amy was one of the few who Aliyah confided in – the occasional bouts of homesickness, self-doubt and constant exhaustion. Amy knew her friend well which is why there was bottle of Glenlivet and two glasses carefully tucked in the lower right hand drawer of Amy's office desk with a note on it that said, "Share some with Sarah, will ya!"

Aliyah and Sarah retired to Amy's office shortly after the last congregate left the evening's oneg, the after service reception. Unlike the wealth and old money of other parts of the synagogue, Amy's office looked more like a English gentlemen's club wall-to-wall books, manuscripts, rows of DVDs covering lectures from across the Jewish intelligentsia, CDs of various Jewish music from traditional cantorial fair to New York's latest orthodox hip-hop. Amy's computer was usually buried underneath stacks of paper but she had been kind enough to pile everything on one corner to allow some room.

"Ah, yeah, Amy," sighed a smile Aliyah, "thoughtful as usual." As invigorating as giving a Friday night sermon was, jet-lag and worry were catching up with Aliyah.

Aliyah leaned back in the desk chair and poured a two shots from the scotch bottle then handed one glass to Sarah who was seated in the chair across from her. Sarah took her glass while cocking her head slightly to the side as if to ask, "What's up?"

"I don't know, honey," Aliyah said. "Jack and Kiya are a volatile mix." She drained her glass, "I fear I maybe opening a wound I can't stitch close."

Sarah rolled her eyes and in a rare moment, decided to speak, "Ianto is here." She too drank her shot, "He will keep 'Mr. Wonderful' . . . grounded."

"I fear Ianto may not be ready for the task of soothing the wounded heart of one Jack Harkness."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, "A heart? I didn't think there was room for one with all that ego."

"You underestimate Jack," Aliyah poured another shot and walked over to the small office refrigerator and retrieved two bottled waters, "His heart is larger and more welcoming than most, which is why he keeps it well-hidden - behind is dick." Sarah giggled at this and nearly missed the bottle Aliyah tossed her. "Anyway, where Jack is weakened, Ianto keeps proving to have subtle strength – "the nobleman and his valet", an ancient, potent pairing." Aliyah took a large gulp from her bottle before returning to her scotch and the comfy desk chair, "Why this young man has chosen such a burden as to love an immortal is still not clear but I sense some sort of destiny in this for them both. I can only hope the outcome will be worthwhile." She took another swallow of water and looked at the door, "However, now other challenges await us all."

Sarah acknowledged her partner's telepathic anticipation and turned to the door before the knock came.