Jack wasn't sure where he was now. All he could feel was the grass moving in shifts all around him. The night was still, barely punctuated by the hiss of the wind and vague snores somewhere near him. He groped around in the darkness and felt the arm of a shirt. In the night, he couldn't tell who it was. But there was an arm attached to the shirt.
"You're awake. You should try sleeping more."
"What time is it?"
"Two. You still have two hours until our shift."
"Our shift?"
"You joined this regiment because of me, remember? We're a team."
James couldn't remember. But, then again, Jack's eyes did that to him. He lied in a nod and then nuzzled his head back into Jack and felt the younger man's heartbeat. It felt like a real embrace, something he couldn't help but fall in love with. Yes, James felt something. Something that happened, a certain type of electricity while Jack addressed his men or simply walked into a room. It was the way he carried himself, the way he was so confident. It was the way he held Jack when he needed to be held that seemed to make all the difference. And the fact he could communicate all this with a heartbeat.
James let his hand travel along that heartbeat, feeling various sensitive parts of Jack's skin.
"You'd better quit. Wouldn't want the men to be more jealous, would you?"
"They'd be crazy not to feel that way."
"Jack, I don't want this to end."
"Who says it has to?"
"What happens when they station you somewhere else. What happens when we get separated?"
"I wouldn't worry about that." James' eyes moved away, knowing that the risks outweighed the benefits since Jack Harkness hadn't really died when he was supposed to anyways.
"But you do worry?"
"Do, do I make you happy Jack?"
"James, I never thought I could be happy after the first man I lost. But then I was found, found by you. It was fate."
"That's what worries me."
"Come here." Jack took James in a kiss, sliding James into a hug and over his body. "You worry too much."
Jack's alarm went off. And this time, he threw it across the room in anger. The satisfaction of the smash against the wall changed his grimace into a smirk as he ascended into his office. He stopped to find a note pinned to his jacket.
"Ianto?!"
"He's not here Jack. Did you find your note?"
"He went after a Weevil himself?!" He took a sip of stale coffee and listened to the sound of Gwen's heels hitting the floor.
"He thought we should concentrate on the Bilis mystery. Ianto can look after himself Jack Now, Bilis said he was in Norway, so I followed that lead. I wasn't sure if it was that reliable coming from my mother, but what else have we to go on? A man who can shift through time like we move through holidays is not only psychotic but dangerous..."
Jack took it upon himself to tune Gwen out and concentrate on why Ianto would have left to take care of Weevil with just a note. In the old days, he wouldn't have been so careless as to go without back-up. But now it was too late; the entire team had been ripped to shreds and while Gwen mistook Ianto's boldness, Jack couldn't. He knew the sharp, young Welshmen would rather head into danger than face another day with Jack and Gwen in their current states. He tuned back in as Gwen's tone changed for the third time in her little speech.
"...Besides, we have to take a drive. There is a clock conference at Bad Wolf Bay in Norway this weekend. If we leave now, we could still make it."
"I could have slept in the car. Especially with your driving."
"You're taking the wheel on the way. I want to save my energy for when I punch the bastard out."
On the other side of Cardiff, Ianto was following and weak and chilling trail of a non-existent Weevil. At least, he hoped the Weevil was non-existent. His own car was parked nearly a mile away, the GPS Rift monitor chirping happily and completely oblivious to the shivers going through Ianto's spine. Ianto wished they were shivers of fear, but rather they were shivers of excitement.
Ianto found the Weevil in the back alley behind the skeletal remains of a mansion near a dumpster. He was half-hidden and growling; Ianto removed the weevil spray and began his menacing dance. He was quick, a flash or two of the spray and the Weevil was rolling on the ground, confused but not in pain. Ianto never heard the man behind him or the sound of the metal pipe thwacking his head. The last thing he remembered was the black bag engulfing his mind in darkness.
The ride itself to Norway was silent and tense. There hadn't been much laughter in Torchwood since Tosh and Owen died and each day had been a little snarkier between Gwen and Ianto, almost enough to make Jack erupt. No one wanted to admit how broken they were, wrapping each stone closer until they were cast into their own seas of misery. Jack was slowly beginning to see and understand that maybe humanity couldn't save itself. That maybe Torchwood was a lost cause. He welcomed the dreams now, a frighteningly real place to hide from the things he and Ianto couldn't say to each other anymore.
Gwen fiddled with the map, and several older villagers in several villages of Norway, including one very overly-chipper pasty blond tour guide, until they found the convention. But, as Gwen had predicted, all that they found was an abandoned ballroom, decorated with balloons and tables. Gwen stomped back to her room crossly, not wanting to talk. Jack drove to the sea, hoping that the waves could calm his nerves.
