Torchwood: Dragon Age Episode One "The End of Days"

Chapter 3: Rift Storms

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama
Language: bad
Violence: yes
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: none
Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

Author's Notes:

This is a big one. I had to split it into two parts on my SMF forums.

Thanks to Springhole for randomly-generated alien species name.

Special thanks to Ventisquear for continuity checking!

Rift Storms

===#===

Owen waded among the bloody bodies, checking for survivors. His stomach turned. Not at the gore, that didn't bother him, but just the sheer stupid waste of it all. Humans- and most aliens he'd seen- were a damned violent species. There was no reason for all this killing. Only panic and the inability to communicate had set them at each others' throats. They had no reason to fight.

There were five survivors: three weevils, the smallest bearcat, and the centurion. Two of the weevils were ambulatory, with mostly superficial wounds. Owen forestalled the elves from skewering them and had them herd the creatures back to their cell. The third had a broken leg and wasn't going anywhere. The centurion and bearcat were in worse shape; Owen had to work quickly to stabilize them. They'd both lost a lot of blood, and it wasn't likely he could save both. His first impulse was to give the human priority over the 'animal,' but that was being terribly speciest. If both had been human? He would patch up the kid and hope the Roman could hang on.

"You two!" he yelled for the elves. He jutted his chin at Blondie. "You keep pressure here on his chest. And you, on his leg." The brunette knelt by the wounded soldier, but the blond guy dawdled.

"He is not going to survive," Zevran said with cold disinterest.

"Just get your arse down here and do what I tell you!"

The elf looked about to protest, but his friend cut him off, saying simply, "Zev." Zevran complied silently, replacing the doctor's bloody hands on the centurion's chest.

Owen wiped his hands on his coat- already ruined- then splashed them clean with a bottle of alcohol. He worked swiftly on the bearcat.

The quiet elf, Bannon, said, "He needs a healing potion."

"We do not have magic healing potions," the doctor growled, neither looking up from nor slowing his work.

"I thought you were a healer," Zevran said. "You do not have healing magic? But how did y-?"

"Medical science! Now shut up!"

===#===

Bannon looked across at Zevran. No magic? "Como de magico?" he asked his partner- what about the mage they'd seen? He'd definitely had magic.

Zevran just shrugged.

===#===

They lost the centurion. It wasn't the elves' fault, Owen kept reminding himself. And it wasn't yours, either. He got the bearcat into its cell, patched up and sedated. He set the weevil's leg.

The others stacked bodies like cordwood onto gurneys and hauled them to the incinerator chute. Ianto spread lime over the blood-slicked floor.

===#===

They got washed up. Bloodstained clothes were the last things to go into the incinerator. Owen had to pull spares out of his locker; Ianto had lost the jacket to his suit. The elves merely hosed down their leathers.

Tosh had ordered up sandwiches, and the cleanup crew descended on them ravenously. "Reports are still coming in," the tech explained. "But clearly, the last Rift 'storm' also generated a ripple effect that spanned the globe. By my calculations, we have approximately three hours be-" She was suddenly cut off by the blare of Rift alarms. Her jaw dropped and she stared in disbelief.

"Calculations a bit off?" Jack snapped, more harshly than he usually spoke to Tosh.

She blinked and grabbed her laptop. "No... unless the interval is decreasing." Her eyes darted over the screen. "Seven, eight, nine... eleven Rift anomalies!"

"And the intensity is increasing," Ianto filled in.

===#===

Shit. The world was going to hell in a handbasket, and it was all Owen's fault. At least according to Captain Harkness. Owen was doing all that he could to make it right, and he'd do even more, but dammit, this Rift roundup nonsense was getting old. And why the hell had the bloody captain partnered him with Blondie, here? Did he forget the twink already threatened to kill him? Well, he tried any shit, Owen had a bullet for him. He'd had quite enough of being bullied around, thank you.

"I want to apologize," the elf said suddenly. Apparently, he'd gotten used to the 'magic horseless carriage' and even relaxed in his seat some.

"Wot, about threatening to kill me?"

"Si. You saved my friend's life, and for that I am eternally grateful." He sounded frank and sincere.

"Would you have, if he didn't make it?"

"Hm. Probably." Zevran shifted uncomfortably. "I was... rather distraught. Though in hindsight, it would have been more practical to attack that thing that killed him."

"It would have killed you too, if you'd tried it."

"Yes, that is the point."

Owen gaped at him a second. Then Tosh called him over the comm, and he flicked it to transmit as he put his eyes back on the road. "Yeah, I'm here."

"I'm getting reports of people collapsing at Summerside Mall. Local PD and security are trying to run down a naked man with a blowgun."

"Sounds right up our alley. We can be there in about ten." Owen jammed down on the accelerator.

"I'll try to find out which entrance by the time you arrive."

===#===

"It's a personal safety device," Ianto told Bannon. The elf kept fiddling with the seatbelt. "You need to leave it on in case of sudden imp- DAMN!" He slammed on the brakes, and both men were pitched forward only to be brought up short by the restraints. Outside the windscreen, a golden horse with a dark-skinned rider galloped past, barely turning aside in time to avoid the front fender.

"That looked like a Native American," Ianto noted. He flinched a moment later as shots rang out behind them. Three men in military blue galloped past. "And let's just hope that wasn't General George Custer."

"Who?"

Ianto stepped on the gas and cranked the wheel over to follow them. "Never mind." He reached for the tranquilizer gun on the floor and handed it to the elf. "Tell me you have some clue how to use that."

Bannon turned the object over in his hands a moment. "Looks like a crossbow."

"Good! Works just like one. Point it and pull the trigger. Open the window, first!"

Confused as to how to accomplish that, Bannon pushed his hands against the windscreen, the passenger window...

"Press the button!"

"Button?"

Ianto swerved onto a one-way street and laid on the horn as he went the wrong way. "The rocker!"

"Huh?"

"The- Out of the way! Bloody Welsh drivers." He hit the horn and the brakes and jinked around the oncoming car. "Can't you see the cowboys and Indians running down the street?"

The horses cut down an alley and Ianto followed doggedly. "That," he said, taking one hand off the wheel a moment to point. "Put your fingers there and press."

The elf did so. Nothing happened.

Ianto continued veering down the alley and clipping every single garbage bin. "Press the other way."

"Oh!"

A horse whinnied, and Ianto slammed on the brakes again. The cowboys and Indians- that is, the Native Americans and Cavalry- galloped back down the alley towards them. Shots rang out. "Get down!" Ianto yelled, just as a bullet smashed a hole in the windscreen.

"Shit!" Bannon yelled, ducking.

Ianto silently agreed. The horses thundered past and he got up, put the car in reverse, braced one hand on the back of the passenger seat, then started backing up the alley after them. "Lean out the window and shoot." The fallen bins got another drubbing.

"I can't reach with this thing on."

"Take your seatbelt off!"

"And get tossed around? I've seen the way you steer this thing!"

"You've never even seen a car in your life; you can't possibly be complaining about my driving!"

===#===

Owen jumped the convertible up onto the mall sidewalk, squashing a decorative bush with the front wheel. He leapt out as a security woman ran up.

"You can't park there!"

"Torchwood," he said, flashing his ID and running past. Though he was going to have to start barking 'Bloody Torchwood,' to save people the trouble. A crowd clustered around a fallen figure. "Let me through! I'm a doctor."

He dropped to his knees beside a rotund woman in a teal jumpsuit. A young black man was giving her mouth-to-mouth. Owen pressed his fingers to her neck- and pulled back a tufted dart. Some naked guy, huh? "It's probably curare," he said. He looked at the young man. "Keep doing that until the EMT's arrive. Make sure they get this." He pinned the dart through a fold in the woman's clothes. "You're going to be fine, sweetheart; just hang in there a little longer."

"I thought you were the EMT!" the man said in desperation.

"No, I'm Torchwood." He reached into his jacket and pulled out the dart gun. People gasped and baked away. "Did anybody see which way the attacker went?"

Shouts rang out from the mezzanine, followed by shrill screams. "Never mind." He slipped past the gawkers and sprinted for the escalator. He caught sight of Zevran just behind him. The elf had managed to get himself out of the car. Owen hoped the seatbelt was intact.

They pounded up the escalator. People milled about in panic "Who's hurt?" Owen yelled.

"Over here!"

Owen pushed roughly past the idiots who didn't know a good time to evacuate if it hit them in the arse. "Out of the way!" He came upon a young cop cradling his older partner.

"Pritchard, wake up!" The kid patted the bristly cheek. "He-he just collapsed," he told Owen in a panic.

"All right, calm down, mate. He's only paralyzed- temporarily," he added hastily. "You just need to give him mouth-to-mouth a few minutes 'til the EMT's get here."

"But-"

"Don't they teach you emergency first aid at the bloody academy?"

"But-"

"Lay him out flat. Pinch his nose, put your mouth over his, and blow air into his lungs. And before you finish whatever comes after 'but,' keep in mind he's only paralysed, not unconscious. You want to save his life, do it now!"

The rookie shut up and did it. Owen watched only long enough to make sure Pritchard's chest was rising, then he tried to spy the jungle hunter through the press of gawkers. There was another shrill scream. This time, Owen saw the victim as she collapsed; she was holding a baby. Owen raced forward, his heart in his mouth, imagining he could hear the crack of an infant skull on the floor. The following wail was loud and healthy, at least.

There were more screams from the next escalator. Owen saw a flash of bare skin fleeing downward, people throwing themselves wide. "Zevran, get him!"

"As you like." The elf darted towards the edge of the mezzanine and leapt over the rail. Owen hoped he didn't break his legs, but was more concerned with explaining simple first aid again and setting the tranq gun down so he could examine the baby.

===#===

Jack hit the brakes. This time, Gwen was already braced. "Tell me I didn't just imagine that."

"What?" she growled, already knowing where this was going.

"A bunch of very buff guys wearing nothing but feathers and body paint." He wagged his brows at her and turned the SUV in pursuit. "Come on, you like that. Admit it!"

"Did you perhaps fail to notice the long spears they were armed with?"

"Mm!"

That did it. No matter what age he looked, or how many years he'd been immortal, he was perpetually seventeen years old. "Let's try to concentrate on work, here, before you manage to become even more politically incorrect, shall we?"

"Yes, Mom," he griped. See!

They followed the temporal trail until they hit a snarl of traffic where a gaggle of young mums with strollers were screaming and shouting, and fleeing from a playground. Jack and Gwen got out of the SUV and navigated against the tide. They found a foot patrolman at the gate, trying to placate some of the hysterical women.

"What's going on in there?" Gwen asked in her authoritative voice. She flashed her Torchwood ident badge.

"Bloody gay menace," the patrolman spit. "Botherin' decent folk. There's small children here, for God's sake."

Jack bristled. "Just being gay doesn't make someone a menace to society. Besides, who said they were gay?"

"What? No." The man shook his head. "Not gays; the Gay Menace. Local gang around here, always stirring up trouble. 'Demonstrating,' they call it, but it's just a bloody excuse to get locked up for indecency."

"Oh."

"I've already called for backup."

Gwen told him, "When they get here, have them secure the perimeter. We'll handle these people."

"Sorry, what authority was that again?"

"We're Torchwood."

===#===

"What in tarnation do you fellers think you're doin'?" the cavalryman said in a deep American accent. Bannon was trying to manacle him while Ianto bent over the Native American, trying to stop the bleeding where he'd been shot. "You stupid limeys! This is the Yoo-nited States of America; you cain't do this to me!" He yanked away from Bannon, but the elf yanked him right back and got the cuffs on his wrists. He shoved the American down onto his knees.

"I need some bandages," Ianto said. "Cut some strips off his shirt."

"You ain't shredding my uniform for no stinkin' redskin!"

"And did you have to shoot his horse instead of him?"

"It worked, didn't it?" the elf replied. He picked up the tranquilizer rifle from where it leaned against the car.

"It would be nicer if he were unconscious," the Welshman gritted through his teeth. Ianto flinched as there came a sudden CRACK!

Bannon had clubbed the cavalryman with the butt of the rifle. The man collapsed, a cut on his temple oozing blood. "He's unconscious now." The elf set the rifle back down and pulled out a dagger. In short order, he had several strips of blue cloth for bandages.

Right, then. Elves didn't exactly have tender mercies, did they? Uncharitably, Ianto couldn't bring himself to feel too sorry for the prejudiced American. "Hold still," he said soothingly to his patient. "You're going to be all right." He didn't know if the young man understood him, but his tone was clear.

The boy- he didn't be more than fifteen or sixteen- looked past him, reaching out a hand. He spoke softly in a native dialect then went limp.

"Just hang in there, it's going to be all right." Ianto finished the first aid and sat back on his heels. He keyed his mic. "Owen, I need help; we have a subject with a gunshot wound."

It was several seconds before he got a reply. "Call an ambulance, Tea-Boy; I'm busy."

Ianto huffed in irritation and pulled out his phone. "See if you can get those three into the back seat," he told Bannon as he dialed 999. Then they'd need to contact Animal Control to pick up these horses...

===#===

"Well," Jack said, his hands up and his most charming 'please don't spear me to death' smile on his face; "four Zulu warriors by the seesaws. Big, dangerous, Zulus, with big dangerous spears. Hmm." He rolled his eyes right to look at the tranq gun in his hand. Hopefully, they didn't realize it might be dangerous. "I think I'll need a couple of lucky ricochets."

"Just keep them distracted, Jack; I'm on my way."

He kept smiling, very careful not to make any sudden moves. The spearmen eyed him, poised to strike. They muttered amongst themselves, deferring to the second on the right. Jack focused his attention on that man. "So... you guys look cold. I mean, Wales isn't exactly Africa, huh? Boy, I know how that is. Plucked out of your comfort zone and dropped somewhere else entirely, with a seriously inappropriate wardrobe." See? I'm just a harmless, friendly guy! Those dark eyes narrowed at him. "Hey, how about a joke? Stop me if you've heard this one before. Two Judoon and a Slitheen walk into a bar..."

===#===

Owen stood up too fast, and a wave of lightheadedness swept over him. He leaned on the mezzanine rail for a few seconds, catching his breath. The EMT's had finally arrived, and he could stop breathing for other people.

Below on the main concourse, uniformed PC's were cordoning off an area and pushing people back. Owen had to get down there before they hauled Zevran off in cuffs.

He pulled out his official ID for this one. "Release that man," he said, shoving his way amidst the cops. They gave him a round of surly glares. "I'm Dr. Harper of Torchwood. This man is under our protection."

"He just stabbed someone," a policewoman growled.

"Well, that someone was killing people left and right." Owen tugged at Zevran's arm. The PC didn't let go of the elf, and Owen glared at her. "You want my superiors talking to your superiors? Because I guarantee, we can get you on school-crossing guard duty for the rest of your life."

She snarled, but pulled out her key to uncuff the elf. "Bloody Torchwood," she hissed, not quite underbreath.

Owen dragged the elf back towards the car and make sure they cleared the crowds before snapping, "When I said 'get him,' I meant for you to apprehend him!"

Zevran just shrugged. "I'm an assassin. Is what I do." He didn't seem to care one whit about people's lives.

Owen gritted his teeth. He couldn't wait to shove these elf blokes into a Rift somewhere and get rid of them.

Zevran frowned at him, clearly sensing his ire. "What, did you prefer that he continue killing people?"

"No," the doctor admitted grudgingly. "Just get in the car."

They got back in the car, and Owen gunned the engine, spraying mulch out from the front tires. He turned the wheel and headed for the parking lot exit. "Tosh," he said into his comm; "We're clear at the mall. The target's dead."

"Are you all right?"

"We're fine. Where's our next rendezvous?"

===#===

Between Jack, Gwen, Ianto, and the elf Bannon, they got the four Zulu warriors and three cavalrymen into the Vault in short order. Owen and his elven partner, Zevran, were still out on call. There wasn't any time to stop for a break or any chit-chat. Toshiko had more emergencies for them to handle. They split up, and Ianto headed downtown.

===#===

A six-car pileup blocked the intersection at Derbyshire and Falk. Ianto braked hard and pulled halfway up onto the sidewalk. People from the cars and shops along both sides of the street bolted past.

Ianto peered through the windscreen at the dinosaur in the intersection. About the size of two lorries, it stood on massive hind legs, hunched forward in a hunting attitude. It turned this way and that, in apparent confusion.

Its tail arced through the air and collapsed a light pole on one corner. The traffic lights suspended overhead swung askew and knocked it in the shoulder. It warbled in consternation and clawed at the hanging wires.

It danced back, surprisingly agile for its size. When it kicked out at one of the abandoned cars, Ianto saw claws the size of a tire iron. "Forget Jurassic Park," he said. "It's allosaurus."

"What?" Bannon asked.

Ianto shook his head and keyed the comm. "It's at Derbyshire and Falk. It's 12 meters. Looks like thick skin, I don't know if the darts or even small arms fire will dent it."

"Stay down," Jack's voice came over the comm. "We're almost there."

The elf was already out of the car and trotting across the street.

"What are you doing?" Ianto hissed after him, glaring out the cracked windscreen to see if the huge predator had noticed the movement. He didn't know how well it could hear, either.

"Weapons," the elf called back without concern. He disappeared into a shop across the way.

Muttering, Ianto got out and went after him. He froze halfway across the traffic island when he noticed the allosaurus peering in his direction. Its massive head wove back and forth as if judging distance.

It took another swipe at the wires hanging over its shoulders, then started forward. Ianto thought he should slowly edge towards the shops, but his legs had other ideas.

He ducked into the sporting goods store. There were still a few people in here; maybe they hadn't paid all that much attention to the accident down the street. A hefty, bearded shopkeeper was arguing with Bannon.

"That's the stupidest prank I ever heard, kid. Now get out of my shop."

"I'm telling you, you need to evacuate everyone out the back!"

"And why do you think we're going to listen to you?"

Ianto fished his ident out. "Because we're Torchwood," he said with as much authoritative force as he could muster. "Do as this man says."

The clerk and the other folks just stared at him. What, they never heard of the secret organization? Grand! Next time, he'd have to try saying MI-5. Ignoring them for a moment, he keyed his comm. "It's heading north on Derbyshire."

"We'll be right there."

Well, nobody had moved yet. They just stared at him. Then the shop dimmed a bit as something blocked the light from the front windows. Something big.

Ianto didn't dare move. The way their eyes widened as they looked past him could be comical if he wasn't so worried about getting eaten. The long shadow slowly slid past. "Please make your way to the back exist in an orderly fash-"

"It's Godzilla!" Someone screamed, and they all boiled out through the stockroom.

"That's actually an allosaur," Ianto said to no one in particular. "And it's 'Gojira,' you idiot." He crossed to the display cabinets where Bannon was. "You didn't ask him to leave his keys?"

"It's open." The elf slid the security glass aside and grabbed one of the compound bows. He lifted it and drew it back to his ear with startling ease. He discarded that bow and the next, but grinned as he tested the third, a monstrosity of pulleys and cables housed in a fancifully shaped cowl with red-stained wood and inlaid dragon carving. He snatched a quiver of arrows and headed for the door.

Ianto considered leaving some form of payment, but when Bannon opened the door, he caught the sound of small arms fire. He ran out after the elf.

===#===

The large dinosaur nosed the black SUV it found across its path. Jack and Gwen had bailed out and regrouped beside a parked car. Gwen peppered the dinosaur's thick hide with bullets. "You think I'm annoying it any?"

"I could say something to that, but I don't want to get shot."

Gwen shot him a murderous glare anyway. Jack took careful aim at the dinosaur's head, trying for a soft spot. He fired, and the creature reared back and looked over its shoulder. One point for keeping it from destroying the SUV... now to keep it from killing them.

Its claws gouged the blacktop as it turned and charged at them. Jack and Gwen fired at its head, hoping to deter it, or possibly score a fatal hit through an eye socket. Jack grabbed Gwen and flung her back. "Get to the trunk!" If he could just distract the thing, possibly by getting stuck in its teeth...

It pounced, flattening the car roof with its front claws. Its maw gaped above Jack, but he needed to reload his revolver.

Suddenly, the beast reared back with a squeal. Something whistled through the air and the raptor's eye founted blood. Were those arrows? A fletched shaft sank into the tender corner of the allosaur's mouth.

Jack and Gwen turned to look. Yes, there was an elf standing on an abandoned car, with a huge bow in his hands. Ianto ducked around behind him and began making his way towards them.

The dinosaur whirled and pushed off the car, racing with fearsome swiftness towards its new target. Bannon shouldered the bow and leaped forward. Clearly, the allosaurus wasn't expecting that and overshot its mark as the elf tucked into a roll beneath it, the bow and swords clattering against the pavement.

Bannon came up in a crouch, pulled one sword from his back, grabbed it in both hands, and swung it like a baseball bat at the allosaur's ankle. The blade bit through the tough hide and the tendon. The beast screeched and half-collapsed. It tried to get up, but its one leg wouldn't hold its weight.

Jack lost sight of the elf as the huge beast struggled frantically. Its tail lashed down and dented the front fender of the SUV. Jack cursed underbreath and packed more bullets into his Webley. He looked to see how he might possibly help keep the elf from being bitten in half.

The raptor snaked its head back and forth, trying to spy its small but dangerous opponent. It heaved itself halfway around, and Jack, Gwen, and Ianto had to duck the tail whipping overhead. They bolted back towards the SUV, but halted as they heard Bannon shout.

"Here! Here!" The elf leapt atop another parked SUV and waved to get the monster's attention. Was he out of his mind? The predator fixed him with its good eye and drew back to strike like a serpent.

Just then, something blond streaked past Jack. The other elf, Zevran, leapt at the dinosaur, a sword in each hand. One blade, then the other, plunged into the creature's chest as the elf used them to haul himself further up.

The three Torchwood operatives backed up as the allosaurus started thrashing, but couldn't take their eyes off the scene. Zevran rode the beast's neck and managed to reach its throat. Blood fountained from under its jaw, and it finally collapsed.

The elf leapt free, hit the street, tucked into a roll, and then bounced to his feet near the humans. He twirled his swords overhead and snapped them down sharply, flicking arcs of blood drops across the pavement. "We," he crowed as he expertly sheathed his weapons on his back, "are ridiculously awesome!" He grinned cockily at the Torchwood team, who just continued to stare, flabbergasted.

Jack turned to Gwen. "I told you they'd come in handy."

Bannon came strolling around the dinosaur's body, examining an arrow he'd pulled from it. Zevran turned to him. "Did you see that? I got one!"

"It's a little small," the other elf said, completely unimpressed.

"Small!" The blond elf sputtered. "S-s-small!?"

"It doesn't even have wings."

At that, Zevran started spitting a string of incomprehensible invectives. He kicked little bits of gravel and litter in Bannon's general direction in a fit of pique.

"Check this out," Bannon said, still calmly ignoring the raving elf. He held an arrow shaft by the back tip; the whole length of it as dripping with blood and gore.

"Where did you get that?" Zevran practically leapt on the other elf, skipping around behind Bannon to caress the long curves of the bow. He stared at it with unmasked envy.

"Ah, we went shopping," Bannon told him.

"Ooh!" Zevran shoved himself off Bannon, nearly knocking him over as he sprang at Ianto. He landed uncomfortably close to the Welshman. "I'm in love!" He stared in unstifled lust. Ianto cringed back while trying to look as if he weren't. Zevran suddenly turned back to Bannon. "Hey, you want to trade? He's no fun."

The elf waved at Owen, who had come around the dented SUV with his med bag. He took the scene in with a glance, and his momentary look of naked concern vanished to be replaced with one of pure ire. He shot a look from Zevran to Bannon. "You're the one who doesn't like blokes, right?"

"Yeah." Bannon was still examining his arrow.

"Can you keep your mouth shut for more than two minutes at a time?"

Instead of answering out loud, Bannon just shrugged and nodded.

"Brilliant!" Owen said. "Ianto, he's all yours." He waved carelessly at the other elf and headed back to his car. Bannon followed.

Zevran turned to Ianto with a lusty smile. "I'm yours," he purred.

Ianto cringed again. "Brilliant," he managed.

Gwen turned to Jack. "Well, brilliant," she repeated with a cheeky grin.

Jack grinned back and said, "All right, back to work!" He and the policewoman headed for the SUV.

===#===

Ianto had to distract the very bisexual elf by getting him a bow and arrows. Then they returned to his car, still parked a quarter of the way onto the sidewalk in front of the clock shop. He got in. Zevran got the door handle worked out and sat in the passenger seat.

Ianto groaned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ianto said as he turned the key. Only he'd worked out another reason Owen had dumped the elf on him. It'd take a miracle to get the bloodstains from his armor out of the interior upholstery.

===#===

Toshiko returned to her station quickly. It seemed they weren't going to get a chance to breathe today. Jack's voice came over the comm. "Tosh, we're here, but there doesn't seem to be any unusual activity."

"Hang on, let me see if the CCTV picked anything up." She navigated the system network, following the path to the linkups with the proper cameras. Her keyboard clicked in rapid fire as she punched in the exact time the Rift alarm had triggered on Bolton street. She found the segment where the Rift flash had whited-out the screen, but there was no sign of movement.

Suddenly, the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Tosh felt a presence in the empty Hub and whirled around.

"Toshiko-chan."

"Okaasan?" It was completely incongruous, utterly impossible, but that was her mother standing right there. Toshiko's mind swiftly processed the raw data; it was her mother, there was no mistaking her. She was injured; blood ran from a gash in her forehead, just like the last time Toshiko had seen her. And those were the same clothes as that night. An icy hand of fear began to grip her heart. "What? Okassan, I didn't hear you."

"Please, daughter, you must open the Rift," her mother told her in Japanese. "I am trapped here, with so many souls. Please, set us free!"

"No! No, Okasaan; you can't be dead!" Captain Jack Harkness had told her she must never see her family again, but he'd relented after he'd gotten Tosh out of UNIT custody. He'd let her send postcards a few times a year. Had he lied? Had her mother been dead all this time? The apparition vanished. "Okassan!"

"Tosh!" The captain's voice was harsh in her earpiece. "Did you find anything yet?"

"N-No," she said, keying her mic. "There's no movement, let me rewind." She played back the tape, forward and backward, fast and slow, both before and after the flash. Then it clicked. "There's a rubbish bin. The one right under the light pole. It isn't there before the Rift opened, then it is."

She could hear the amusement in Gwen and Jack's voices over the comms.

"So... what? The Rift picked up the trash from next week and deposited it on the curb?"

"If we're lucky."

"And if we're not lucky?"

"Then we're going to need the really big guns."

They clicked off, and Toshiko took another look around the Hub. There was no sign of any apparition. She rolled her chair to the other workstation to bring up the Hub monitors. She saw herself on the recordings, speaking to thin air. Her mother was not there, but there was a blip in one of the frames. Some static. What if the monitors couldn't detect ghosts?

She had to think rationally. Once you eliminated the impossible, what ever was left, no matter how improbable, was the answer. Only this was Torchwood, so 'impossible' and 'improbable' had a different array of meanings. It was possible she'd imagined the whole encounter. It was also possible she'd seen the spectre of her mother. She never got any letters or postcards in the return mail. She honestly could not say for sure that her mother was not dead.

Tosh returned to her workstation and brought up a new search window. She started keying in her mother's information.

===#===

Wind whistled through the bulletholes in the windshield as Ianto accellerated. His partner Zevran shut up for a while, gazing wide-eyed as the landscape flew past the car. It didn't last long, however. The elf seemed to like nothing better than to hear his own voice.

"This seems rather different from your duties as jailer."

"I'm not a jailer," Ianto replied patiently. "And that's not a jail. The Vault is just a secure holding facility..." He trailed off when he realized the irony of that explanation.

"Is not a vault where you keep treasure? That is not a vault, but a dungeon."

"We call it the Vault, because..." Because it sounds better than 'the dungeon'? "Because it is secure," Ianto finished lamely.

Zevran scoffed. "Trust me, I've been in dungeons. Yours is the absolute worst."

"It's not made for long-term housing."

"But is what you do, no? Hunt down these people and put them in your... 'Vault.'"

"In the case of dangerous species, yes," Ianto explained. "But we don't necessarily do that. We try to help people. Out of curiosity," he asked, glancing at his passenger, "why were you and your friend tranquilized when they brought you in?"

"Oh. That was a complete misunderstanding." Zevran waved it off carelessly.

"Did you attack them?" From what Ianto had seen, the elves were more than capable of it.

"Certainly not!" the elf said. "Uhm... it seems one of your women took exception to me sneaking up behind your captain with a dagger."

"Why were you sneaking up behind him with a dagger?" Ianto shot him another glance, this one laced with worry. What had he gotten himself into?

"To keep things honest! Hey, we did not know you. He could have been lying about being there to help us. But-" he shrugged- "he sounded reasonable so far. I thought Bannon was about to agree to go with him, but then that woman - she must have shot me with the poison dart. Do you know which one of your women that was, by the way?"

"Uh, no," Ianto lied, worried that the elf was contemplating retribution.

He didn't seem concerned, though. "Well, the next thing I know, I'm in a dungeon with a headache. If you're not a jailer, what is it you do?"

"I'm the Office Manager."

"Office... manager." Zevran rolled the words around on his tongue as if tasting their worth. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I generally look after the Hub... clean up after everyone... make sure things run smoothly... fetch the food, make the coffee..." Ianto sighed. "All right, fine; I'm the Office Manager because it sounds better than butler, janitor, dogs-body, or tea-boy."

"Ah ha. So the Office Manager of the Vault is really the servant mopping up the dungeon?"

Ianto groaned. "When you say it like that, of course it sounds bad. And I'm not a servant. I'm... part of the staff."

"The serving staff?"

"No, the agents of Torchwood." He'd graduated to field work, hadn't he? "I'm also the Archivist."

"A servant and a librarian?"

The elf was far too canny. Ianto changed the subject. "Well what is your job, back where you come from?"

"I am an assassin," Zevran asserted proudly.

"Really?" The Welshman's stomach did a slow barrel roll. "That explains the sneaking up behind people with knives."

"Indeed. I am, in fact, an Antivan Crow - the best Crow assassin there ever was, actually."

"Uh huh." It sounded as if they were a gang of self-aggrandizing braggarts.

"If you knew who the Antivan Crows were, you would be mightily impressed."

Ianto muttered, "I doubt that."

"Hmph."

===#===

Search Blocked.

"Dammit!" Toshiko would have to go into the low-level subroutines of the Torchwood computer system to circumvent the blocks Jack had placed on the information about her mother. She started hacking into the admin account.

"Tosh!" She nearly leapt out of her chair as the captain's voice rang over the comm. "We've secured the trash. It seems inert, so earmark it for examination later. What's our next target?"

"Um... just a sec." She tabbed through her open programs to bring up the Rift monitor. "Disturbance at the Cardiff Country Club."

"That's out near where Owen is, isn't it? We're covering the south side."

"Right, sorry. Police requesting assistance in the warehouse district." She relayed the address to Jack.

"Is everything all right there?" Gwen asked.

"Yes. It's just..."

"One hell of a day, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Steady on, Tosh," Jack told her. "One thing at a time; we'll get through it."

"Right." She clicked over to the other channel. "Owen? What's your status?"

"Well, I've scanned at least three dozen of these little black boxes; there's nothing. They're just all over the damned place. I mean, everywhere!"

"You don't think they're dangerous?"

"We won't know until we can crack one open, will we? For now, they seem to be just ordinary plastic boxes. I've got Santa's Little Helper here bagging up as many as he can, but there's just too many. Can you get some kind of trash removal crew out here?"

"Do you want a hazmat team?"

"I can't justify pulling them off anything more clearly dangerous."

"All right, I'll call the Sanitation Department." Tosh typed in the instructions for the Rift-trash, then pulled up the phone listings for Cardiff Civil Services. "There's a disturbance at Cardiff Country Club you need to check out next."

"Will do."

===#===

When they got to the nursery, the harried manager informed Ianto that a giant snake had invaded. Ianto didn't care for snakes, but he had a job to do. Zevran didn't seem bothered by the notion. After all, he'd slain a dragon. A giant snake could only be a step down. Ianto gave him a quick course on the operation of a crossbow without a cross or a bow, which Zevran picked up rather quickly. Still, he refused to part with his blades, or his brand new bow.

"It's just a frightened animal," Ianto insisted. "Or even a sentient species. We don't need to kill it."

Zevran just shrugged with an infuriatingly careless air.

The two men entered the evacuated greenhouse, tranq rifles at the ready. Ianto was glad he didn't have his jacket on, when the humid air enveloped them. He nodded his head to the right, to indicate to the elf to split up. Zevran shook his head. Gesturing with two fingers, he indicated Ianto should keep an eye low while Zevran kept watch above. One glance at the taller plants overhead convinced Ianto that this was a better idea.

Slowly, they stalked deeper into the regimented jungle of greenery. Ianto let Zevran take a slight lead, as the elf seemed to know what he was doing. He led them in a grid-pattern search, his boots silent upon the concrete flooring. Ianto tried to imitate his stealth, but had to be glad snakes were deaf.

They neared the center of the greenhouse, and Ianto wondered how 'giant' this giant snake was, if they hadn't seen a trace of it yet. Then he found out; he saw part of a green coil around a table, thick as a barrel and with neither head nor tail in sight. He hissed a warning and pointed it out to Zevran.

The elf narrowed his eyes at the coil, then craned his neck, trying to see where it led. Ianto just brought the rifle to his shoulder.

"That is not a good place to shoot it," Zevran whispered in warning.

"The tranq will work just fine there." It was fast acting and strong. Ianto planned to use two shots, just to be sure it was enough for the huge creature. He sighted and fired. The dart skipped off the shiny green scales.

Zevran gamely took a shot with the same results. The coil began to move, the scales rasping along the floor as the creature slithered around. A wedge-shaped head the size of a shopping cart thrust its way through the plants.

"Oh shit."

===#===

"For the last time," Jack yelled in Galactic Standard; "This is not Arcadia IV! And we're not-" He ducked instinctively as molten metal bolts splashed brightly against the concrete wall near his head.

"Sorchka, Paxcor poodoo!"

"Oh, of course," Jack griped, "you just couldn't be mining there legally, could you?"

"Keep them busy, Jack," Gwen's voice came over the comm. "Just another thirty seconds."

"If you see a really big one, shoot it before you do anything," he warned her. He'd spotted at least half a dozen of the orange-furred Urdrin miners. The child-sized creatures weren't much more dangerous than a human, but if they had one of the big hunters with them... The bolt-fire let up, and he yelled around the corner again. "We're Torchwood, not Pax-Corps! You've fallen through a Rift in the Space-Time Continuum. Torchwood will help you return to your proper-"

"Tryzwimmit!"

"Well, how rude."

"Dropping the cannister, Jack. In three... two... one!"

He waited a beat and a half for the pacification gas to start to work - but not long enough for the quick reflexes of the felinoids to react to the threat - then he twisted out from cover and ran forward, recklessly charging the Urdrin's position with the tranq rifle.

===#===

The serpent arose, its body thick as the trunk of a tree, its wide head crowned with a crest of rainbow feathers. It bent over Ianto as he stood frozen in primal fear. I am Shining Jade Rain, the whisper thundered through Ianto's mind. God of the Green Forest, Guardian of the Canopy, Master of the Emerald Wind. He stared into its luminous jade eyes, unable to look away. The large moonstone embedded in its brow flared as it raised its crest and spread its wings in a rainbow arc. WORSHIP ME.

Ianto felt a powerful emotion sweep over him, of equal parts love and awe. Later, he imagined it was what religious fervor might be like, but until now, he'd never felt anything like it in his life. The pure, clear love wrapped him in a sheltering cocoon. He slowly dropped to his knees, barely feeling them touch the concrete flooring, only vaguely aware of the elf kneeling beside him, head bowed.

The feathered serpent's scales gleamed like polished gemstones, in a thousand shades of green; the moonstone glowed with soft silvery light; sunshine cascaded down through the iridescent feathers. He wept to behold such beauty. Oh, magnificence; oh, splendor. Words formed of their own volition in his mind. Lord of the Air. God of the Trees. I am yours. Euphoria washed over him as he opened his arms and leaned back, his heart yearning to be closer to this God. Take me. Consume me.

The serpent's jaw dropped open as it lowered its head towards him.

===#===

"Jack, we have a problem."

Owen's voice came over the comm as Jack and Gwen were stacking the last Urdrin miner into the truck. "Everybody's got a problem," he grunted.

"We have a rhino with a big gun pointed at us, and he doesn't speak a word of English."

Jack keyed the comm. "Just put your hands up and don't make any sudden moves."

"Oh, genius, that," the doctor snarked back. "What do you think we're doing?"

The captain rolled his eyes and restrained a sigh. "He's a cop, he won't shoot you without provocation. Tell him: Ragubash zchingbazz nach-ookla paing."

"Ragbash... what?"

"What's he saying, Owen?"

"'Ooga-chooga'- I don't know! It sure as hell ain't 'May the Force be with you,' and that's about it for me in galacto-speak."

"Oh, for-!" Jack fished his mobile out of his pocket while Gwen looked on in equal parts concern and amusement. "Get your phone and put him on," he said as he punched Owen's speed-dial. "I'll talk to him."

===#===

Owen's phone started trilling and the rhino-cop jerked the miniature cannon in his direction. "Charck!"

"Whoa, easy! It's just me phone, mate. You know? Talky-talky?" He extended thumb and pinky and mimed a telephone receiver. The rhino narrowed its eyes suspiciously and growled something else. Hopefully that was meant to be encouraging. Owen very slowly pulled the phone from its holster and thumbed the 'answer' button. It beeped, and the rhino tensed, showing it's teeth. "It's all right," Owen said slowly, reassuringly. "It's not a weapon. Look-" he held the phone up to his ear- "talky-talky. See? It's for you." He held the phone out.

The rhino-cop came closer, then jerked its gun towards Bannon. "Gruk!" The damned elf was trying to edge away from Owen again. The rhino-cop motioned them back together with its rifle.

"Stop doing that," Owen hissed at the elf. "You want to get us killed?"

Bannon kept a cheery disarming smile on his face. "If you would distract him better," he said, his lips barely moving, "I could get behind him and-"

"And get me killed, no thank you very much."

The elf snorted, and both of them stood with their hands up, watching the rhino holding the mobile alternately up to its ears at the top of its knobby head and to its snout as it conversed with the captain. To its credit, the gun never wavered.

"Ruusk!" the rhino coughed at last. It snapped its gun upright and handed the mobile back to Owen. With parade-drill precision, it powered down its weapon and held that out, too.

"Owen," Jack said over the comm, "he should surrender his weapon to you now."

Bannon was already reaching for it, but the doctor smacked his hands away and took it. "Got it, Jack."

"He respects your authority as local constabulary, and will do as you instruct."

"Wait, what instruct? I don't speak-"

"Honestly, Owen, you undervalue the effectiveness of pointing and gesturing."

"You want him to just ride in the back seat?" Owen said quickly, sensing the captain trying to sign off. "I have a convertible!"

===#===

Jack climbed into the SUV's driver seat and shared a put-upon look with Gwen. "You're a big boy, Owen. I'm sure you can handle it." He clicked off the comm. "Oh, stop snickering."

"Me? Snicker?" Gwen said innocently. "Never!"

Jack's Galactic Standard was a little rusty, he mused as he hit the gas. Perhaps holding a class for his team was a good idea all around. That, and a few games of remedial charades for Owen. "Rational beings," he muttered. "That's what this world needs more of."

===#===

Owen frowned, then turned to Bannon. "All right, you're in charge of our friend here. Get him in the car." Big boy and handle that, Harkness!

The alien elf just shrugged. "Sure."

"Owen, we have a Priority One call from St. Thomas hospital."

"Oh, brilliant," the doctor grumbled. He keyed his comm. "On my way, Tosh."

===#===

It was fortunate, Ianto supposed, that the inside of a snake's mouth is not protected by scales. He sat sideways in his car, the door open, his feet on the ground. Zevran was cursing and struggling to haul the giant snake, coil by coil, through the greenhouse and into the car. Ianto didn't feel like helping him. Ianto, Ianto realized, felt very testy, like some sort of junkie suddenly cut off from his supply.

That thing almost ate me. It was just some kind of mind control, releasing endorphins into his brain. He should be able to just shake it off.

He should also be glad that the elf had the quick foresight to avoid looking into the snake's eyes. "Just like a bird, eh?" the far-too-jovial elf had said, slapping Ianto on the shoulder after the snake had collapsed. Ianto had wanted to rip his arm off. "Snakes, they hypnotize, si?"

At least Zevran stopped being so jovial as he grunted and sweated, manhandling the limp serpent along. He couldn't resist cracking phallic snake jokes, though. That was reason enough to let him suffer doing all the work.

Ianto rubbed his face and clicked his comms unit on to report in. "We've secured the serpent, Tosh. We're going to head in to drop it off."

"Roger that, Ianto. Are you all right?"

"Yes, fine. Is there anything else we need to handle?"

"No, this storm seems to be passing out of our area." Her voice was tinged with the same concern he had: what was the ripple effect going to do to the rest of the planet? Was there nothing Torchwood could do to stop it?

You must open the Rift, fully, to release the pressure, Lisa had told him. Or we will all be destroyed. Ianto rubbed his forehead again. That was something Torchwood could do. But would they? Should they? It wasn't up to him.

"Can't you hurry up with that?" Ianto snapped at the elf.

"If you want this to go faster," Zevran grunted, his accent deepening, "you could help!"

Ianto looked at the snake and shuddered. He couldn't bring himself to touch it. "I can't."

"Well," Zevran huffed, "you'll have to wait, then. But next time you can carry the beast while I sit! I am not your elven servant."

===#===

When they got to the hospital, Owen parked crookedly in the obscurest corner of the carpark that was closest to the elevator. "You two stay here," he said, glancing at both aliens. To Bannon he added, "Don't get out of the car. Don't touch anything." He grabbed his bag and trotted to a portal that slid open and swallowed him up. The elf and the monster craned their necks to watch him go.

"Gru Khan?" the monster in the back seat asked.

The elf shrugged. He unclipped the safety harness and jumped out over the side of the wagon. "Stay here," he said to the creature, pantomiming along with his words. "Don't get out of the coach. Don't touch anything."

The monster sat even more upright and even more stiffly. If it had horns on its head instead of on its nose, it could have been a qunari. Come to think of it, they were probably related. Dwarf qunari, Bannon mused.

He paced around a bit to stretch his legs. This building - a coach house? - was huge. There seemed to be an endless number of coaches stored here, of all sizes and colours. He couldn't begin to imagine how many nobles were in this place. And what if they all wanted to go somewhere at once?

He got the impression that his city might be even bigger than Denerim. In many places, the buildings towered higher than they did back home. Many, like this building, were larger than the castle. In some places, it looked like dozens of Fort Drakons side by side, row by row. How many people lived in this city? And where did food come from, to feed them all?

He wondered where the alienage was, and if it were huge as well. He hadn't seen any elves while he'd been running around with these Torchwood people, so he surmised that they still lived in segregation, employed only in the lowest menial tasks. Or, he supposed he could be optimistic and believe the elves still had their own separate kingdom. Everything else in this world was so different, why not? Anything could be possible.

Thinking about elves brought his mind around to his family. What would they think when they heard he'd disappeared? Would they worry? Or just be relieved? Bitterness flooded him.

He couldn't dwell on that, He had to focus on the here and now. Once these people got the tears in the Veil under control, they could send him and Bannon back home. There always seemed to be something he had to put in front of his own concerns, his own personal life. But Zevran was right. There was no use dwelling on things that were impossible to know or even influence.

He returned to the wagon. The creature was still sitting at attention. As Bannon hopped back into the seat, his leg knocked against a latch, and a small compartment popped open. A pile of papers and packets spilled out onto his lap and the floor. He sifted through them, looking for coins, but was disappointed.

The white and pink slips of paper were boring, just a lot of staid writing on them in excessively regimented hand. There were some colourful folded packets with decorative lettering: "Angelo's," "Tizzy's," "Bar Reunion," "Paradise Island," "The Boarhound" - that one had a picture of a bristling dog head, too. And one simply labeled "XXX," with some squiggles in blue and pink. Bannon recognized the shapely outline of a woman's leg, the curve of a breast and hip.

He flipped open the packet; inside was a double row of small grey strips with rounded red heads. There were also some numbers scribbled on the plain inside of the card, and the word "Amber." It was a very long number; that must be a lot of amber. Bannon liked the picture, so he tucked the folded card into a belt pouch.

He shoved a handful of papers back into the compartment. A good number just fell out again. As he reached down, his foot hit a little solid tube, to which he diverted his attention.

It was a plain, matte black; one end flared wider. Bannon rolled it in his fingers and found only a small round bump marring the surface. He prodded the bump, and light flared from the end of the tube. He almost dropped it, fearing he'd set something on fire. But no, it wasn't firelight, it was pure white. Some sort of mage light. He pointed it at the stone wall outside the coach. The wall didn't disintegrate. Hesitantly, Bannon played the light over the interior of the coach. Again, nothing combusted. With trepidation, he moved his hand closer to where the light was coming out. He felt no heat whatsoever. He waved his hand in front of the light, then chuckled in delight. A cold magic torch!

Bannon experimentally thumbed the bump on it again, and it doused itself. Just to make sure he hadn't used up all the magic, he clicked the button several times, grinning like a child as the light came and went at his command. He tucked the magic torch away in his main belt pouch. Zevran would be impressed!

"Garruda murkle phoo," the monster in the backseat grumped.

"Hey, what he doesn't know won't hurt him," Bannon replied. He turned back to look at the creature. "You won't tell him, will you?"

The grey monster looked blank and shrugged.

"That's what I thought." Bannon glanced past the coach, towards the doors where the shem mage had disappeared. The monster followed his gaze. "Keep a look out, would you?" Bannon asked him conspiringly. "Let me know if he's coming back."

Again, Bannon grabbed a double-handful of the junk that had fallen on the floor and his lap, and shoved it back into the compartment. This time, some shiny square packets caught his eye. They contained some thin, round items. He flipped a few over. 'Grape,' he read, and 'Cherry.' Ah, it must be candy!

Bannon tore open a cherry candy packet. The candy wasn't brittle hard sugar like he'd expected. And it wasn't like soft candy when he bit down on it. It was... Bannon frowned as he worked his jaw. It was chewy, to be sure, but more like leather. It had a strong flavor, at least to start, more like a cherry brandy. But it wasn't sweet. He chewed on it a bit more, experimentally, then spit it out over the side of the coach when he realized he wasn't making any headway in dissolving it. He wrinkled his nose and decided he didn't like mage candy.

He shuffled through some more of the packets - perhaps Zevran might like to try it? - and then realized his mistake. One of them had the words 'Bubble Gum' on it. Clearly, it was some sort of magic spell that created a bubble of gummy substance, somewhat like the opposite of a grease spell - it would stick an opponent's feet fast.

His surmising was proven correct when he found one labeled 'Magic Fingers.' He would have preferred a stone fist, which Wynne used to great effect, but then he supposed the little packets couldn't contain such large spells. He wondered if they were merely spell components, or if they contained a full spell that could be activated by anyone. He slipped a few into his pouches. He and Zevran could experiment later.

===X===

End Notes:

"And it's 'Gojira,' you idiot."

- 500 Bloodsong Points if you know this line!