The post office trip was uneventful; Ellie waited outside as Alec went in to talk with the postmaster. When he came back out, however, he looked troubled enough that Ellie knew something wasn't settling quite right with him. She felt concerned despite herself and didn't protest when he took her arm again.
"What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "Jack's already here in 1908," he explained softly. "Not the Jack we know, but I was thinking… and it makes sense. I think we'll go to Cardiff and find him. What better way to get him the letter than to hand it to himself?"
Ellie stared at him. "Cardiff?"
"He has headquarters there. Will do for—oh, another hundred fifty years from now." He motioned her forward. "C'mon." He led them down the street, ignoring her confused questions, past the hotel and to Ellie's quickly growing confusion and irritation to a small store—a thrift shop, or the equivalence of one for the 20th century. He hushed her when she attempted to ask him what he was doing and merely stepped inside, nodding respectfully to the clerk who was sitting at the counter.
It was junk. All of it, and Ellie looked around aghast at the mess: piles of useless tools and gadgets, secondhand clothes and hats and shoes sitting or hanging half-hazardly on the walls. Her instincts as a mother wanted her to take a shovel to it all and throw it all out. What in the world could help them here?
But Alec, however, simply walked comfortably through the junk, perfectly at home like he did this every day. There was a light, too, in his eyes that she had never seen before and she finally realized what it was. "Are you excited about all of this?" she hissed, stopping him walking by a hand on his elbow. "Being stuck in this year, without help?"
"Never thought I'd time-travel again," he confessed.
She stared at him. "Again?" She had not expected that. "You've time traveled before?"
He quieted for a long moment; she wondered if she hadn't meant to tell her that. "Once," he said quietly. "Years ago now." He frowned suddenly, thinking about what he'd just said. "Or years from now, anyway." He pulled away from her slackened hold and continued on his way, leaving Ellie to her newly rediscovered surprise. Her old boss knowing about aliens was one thing—and it was odd he knew so much about them, wasn't it—but confessing that he had travelled in time before was even more shocking. She couldn't deny, however, that he certainly seemed to be in his element. He perused the piles of junk and clothes with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm, long fingers lifting something before just as quickly putting it aside, handing Ellie the occasional odd thing that to her seemed just as useless as the rest of the cast-offs. The intensity she had caught glimpses of during Danny's case was plainly evident on his face as he searched and searched, for what only he knew; but finally he decided he had enough and went up to the counter. To her further surprise he did not pay in money' instead he pulled out a small scrap of paper that had a child's writing on it. The storeowner smiled and nodded, glancing at Ellie a moment before pocketing the paper. As Alec led their way out she glanced back to find the man practically inhaling the paper as he lifted it to his face, clearly delighted.
"What was that?" she demanded, struggling to hold onto all of the things he had handed her. "Were you bartering?"
"That was his monetary system, Miller. Plain money has no meaning for him."
"But—how-?"
"How does he make a living, then?" Alec supplied the question dryly. "You seem to think that every intelligent species on the planet needs money to survive."
It took her a moment to register what he meant. "Don't tell me that man was an alien. Please."
"All right, then, I won't." Alec didn't slow down his pace. "C'mon, Miller, why are you still surprised by this? Humans aren't the only ones living on this planet, after all. You've been living with aliens since the universe began."
"Forgive me my hesitancy, sir," Ellie snapped, "but every alien I've come across so far has tried to kill me."
"Well, he's harmless. Apparently he crash-landed in this region years ago and can't call his people for help. When he started he was attempting to barter enough that he could fix his ship but fell in love with Earth while he was doing so. He decided to remain here. Now he just barters for fun and for his own comfort."
Ellie looked down at her arms full of junk. "But what's comforting about all of this stuff?"
He shrugged. "He understands intent, Miller. His species is empathetic, he senses the worth of something you hold dear. He's cut off from his own people but humans give off enough emotion he can still thrive. He can sense what's important to you."
She was tempted to ask what it was he had bartered with which had made the man so delighted but she knew he would never answer. They headed back to the hotel room where Alec laid everything out on the bed and desk. Ellie sat as well as she could on the chair and wondered what he was going to do.
"When are we leaving for Cardiff?"
He glanced over at her. "Tomorrow. We'll have to go by train, probably, and it'll take us a few days to get there."
"I haven't been to Cardiff in a long time," Ellie admitted quietly. Joe's parents lived (would live?) in the city but they hadn't gone to visit them in years and Ellie had not heard from them when Joe was arrested.
"It's going to be different," he warned her.
"And probably dangerous," she retorted. "Yes, I know, you told me earlier."
"And I'll keep on repeating it until you actually believe me," he said smoothly, turning back to the objects on the bed.
"I said I trusted you," she said, standing. "Wasn't that enough?"
He didn't look at her. His sudden stillness after his intensity earlier was jarring. "It rarely is," he finally muttered. But then he seemed to shake himself and bent down, reaching for one of the pieces of junk. "This is going to take a while, Miller. Go get yourself something to eat."
She frowned but when it was clear he wasn't going to pay attention to her she sighed and gave up, tired by all of the things she was learning and just wanting some normality for once. So she left him in the room and went down to the main lobby to order a meal. Luckily she had some money and was able to scrounge up enough for a decent lunch. When asked where "her husband" was she merely said he would be along shortly and ate in silence.
She'd pulled Alec's writing pad from his coat pocket when she had been by herself for a moment; she used it now away from prying eyes to list everything about her boss that seemed odd. It was, when she finished, more extensive than she would have first suspected. His odd choice of words, his surprising knowledge of this other world… it went on.
She knew there was something about Alec Hardy that was bothering her, something that wasn't quite meshing with what she knew about him. She was determined to find out, though. She was a detective, after all. She would be able to.
0000000
When she got back, half of the objects had disappeared from their spots. Alec was seated hunched over the desk, fingers splayed and twisting wires together as he put pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. He had somehow, somewhere, found an ordinary screwdriver and was working the pieces of junk together. The object had no shape yet, as far as she could see, and he didn't so much as look up when she opened the door, working on twining two pieces of fine copper together.
She had gone out and explored the town a bit and had guessed correctly that it was small. It was very much like Broadchurch itself that way, a community of tight-knit neighbors and businesses. It consisted of only a few hundred men, women, and children, two churches, a few family-run stores, and this hotel. She had looked over her shoulder too often for her liking, however, automatically searching for some more of those weeping angels, or even that store keeper. By the time she was done with her exploration the sun was starting to set, and she was cold. The hotel owner was as kind as always, asking her how she was and she had responded with another smile and an assurance she was wonderful.
"Snow's supposed to come tomorrow," she said now, sitting on a free spot on the bed.
He barely shifted. "Good to know." His tone was entirely disinterested.
She rolled her eyes. "You know, it wouldn't hurt you to not be a knob sometimes."
He smirked then, suddenly, startling her. "It's inherent," he retorted without looking up. "Can't help it."
"I'm sure," Ellie said sourly. "Just like you can't seem to wear anything but a suit."
Now he did smile. "Exactly."
"I was being sarcastic!"
"Well, I wasn't." He rolled the object over and worked on closing a small hole that had been left open. He worked in silence for a long time and Ellie simply watched him, feeling trapped and unsure again. How on earth were they going to get back home again? Would she ever be able to see her boys again?
She went to bed early that night, unable to simply sit and do nothing anymore. It was beautiful being able to slip out of that horrid dress and into normal clothes again. She fell asleep with Alec still at the desk tinkering away.
She woke suddenly later from a nightmare, nothing of which she could recall even though there was a pit of dread in her stomach and her heart was racing. A faint light was shining: a candle, lit on the desk. Alec was still working. She could see, however, that he was tired even though he would deny it. She had seen too much of what he looked like exhausted from Danny's case. She looked blearily at him through a stray lock of hair. "You know you don't have to spend every night in that rickety old chair."
If he surprised to find her awake he didn't show it; he turned to look at her in confusion. In silence his gaze swept the edge of the bed, of Ellie laying on one side. He shook his head. "Fine here."
Ellie rolled her eyes. "You're the most stubborn git I've ever met," she informed him irritably, sitting up a little. "I'm not suggesting anything, if that's what you're worried about—but it's not fair that I get the bed all to myself."
For some reason, he didn't fight her. After a long silent moment he merely nodded and got to his feet. With a soft sigh he slipped his shoes off and slid under the covers, glancing only once back at the device sitting on the desk. "Should've put that away," he murmured quietly to himself.
It wasn't awkward like she'd feared it to be sharing a bed with him. He kept a respectable distance between them, but still it felt nice to have someone beside her again, a solid presence there. His breathing was slow, steady, and she slipped back into sleep very quickly listening to it.
0000000
Ellie woke up first that morning, which surprised her. For a moment she simply laid there, comfortable and content; waking on a lazy Saturday morning had been her favorite moment throughout the week. And she hadn't gotten many lazy Saturday mornings in a long while. Finally, though, she knew she couldn't stay like this forever and she shook herself awake and sat up, stretching out stiff muscles.
Alec stirred slightly beside her, still asleep. For a moment Ellie merely studied him—she had never seen him so still or peaceful before. Awake there was always something tense and weary about his demeanor. Now, however, wrapped in the coverlets he looked a lot younger and a lot less haggard.
She slipped out of the bed, her stomach growling its need, and went to the restroom. By the time she got back, he was stirring. It amused her to see he stretched while still lying down in the bed rather than sitting up—his feet hung off the edge of the bed when he was his full length. He shifted so that he was facing her but did not sit up.
Ellie raised an eyebrow. "We have a train to catch."
"Lazy," he muttered sleepily, still only half awake.
She was struck by an idea, then; would his tongue be looser now that he was only partially awake? Maybe she could get some answers now. "What happened to your accent earlier? You sounded—Londoner."
"'M not Scottish." In the startled silence that descended then he seemed to realize what he had let slip. She had never seen someone get up as quickly as he did then, standing on one side of the bed as he looked at her from across the other. He looked very awake now and very angry with himself.
She got her mouth to work first. "You—but why—where are you from, then?"
He swallowed hard. She thought his hands were trembling but couldn't be sure. His guard was slamming closed. "I'm not from anywhere." His answer was careful; he was eyeing her suspiciously like he was afraid she would reach out and hurt him. "I—travel a lot. Or I did, before…"
She felt herself stiffen, crossing her arms. She could out-stubborn him. "Before what?" But he was silent, and finally she felt something snap. "I'm getting pretty damn sick of this," she said furiously, taking a step forward. "You're hiding something, something important, and you refuse to say anything about it! From day one you've been all secrets and half-truths and flat-out lies! You want me to trust you but you don't give me any reason to!" Her fury was rising fast, all of the old betrayals of Danny's case falling out of control. "Everything you are is a lie!"
He flinched back as if struck. "No. No, it's not. Ellie, I'm still me, my job, it's all true."
She heard the use of her name, recognized it for the plea it was, but didn't care. "How can I know that?" Ellie demanded. "How can I trust anything that comes out of your mouth? You've probably created a whole history for yourself with your little Torchwood friends, leading the whole world on—"
"Of course I had to make up a background!" Finally his control had slipped; the normally unshakable Alec Hardy was very much shaken now, mostly from anger but there was a vulnerability there she was taken aback to see. "I was left here, exiled, I had nothing! Jack helped me back up on my feet, created an alias—everything!"
She froze, one word catching her attention above the others. "Exiled?"
He froze.
She sensed she had struck the root to all of her questions, to all of the answers she needed. "What did you do to make someone exile you in Britain?"
He looked very much like he wanted to jump out of the window to keep from answering; she wondered if he would have the nerve to do it. But he seemed to realize that he wouldn't be able to escape from her questions. He sat unsteadily down on the chair. "I wasn't exiled to Britain," he said hoarsely. "I was exiled to Earth."
Of all the possible answers, she had never expected that—even though she was beginning to think she should have. Aliens. "So I'm guessing Torchwood took you in?" she snapped, her fury abating only a little; it made her deliberately mean with her next words, repeating what he had told her days ago. "'Torchwood contains extra-terrestrial life that makes its way to Earth', after all."
It was a low blow but he didn't rise to the bait. "I'm human, Ellie. Mostly."
"So, what," Ellie began haltingly, trying to wrap her head around what he was telling her, "one of your parents was an alien?" She meant it as a poor excuse of a joke, but his mouth twisted bitterly at her question and that was her answer before he spoke.
"You could say that."
He haltingly began to tell her of a Christmas invasion years ago, of an alien race called the Sycorax that hypnotized one-third of the human population and threatened to kill them; then he spoke of another alien, a travelling loner called the Doctor who saved humanity in a sword fight against the Sycorax leader at the cost of his right hand. Ellie recalled, with a sudden shock, that such a Christmas had happened, although she would have recalled nothing of it if he hadn't brought it up first. But he was still talking, so she kept quiet.
He mentioned in passing the "Doctor's" adventures, then went on to explain his meeting with Jack Harkness, who had found the hand the Doctor had lost. He went into a little bit more detail with later adventures with a Donna Noble, of an incident when the woman had touched the case which held the Doctor's old hand.
And then suddenly he stopped, hoarse from talking so much.
Ellie's eyebrows had steadily climbed higher and higher as he talked, and now she lifted them the rest of the way. "And?" She almost didn't want to know the answer now.
He rubbed his face, looking away. He had never looked so tired. "I grew out of that hand. An Instantaneous Biological Metacrisis shared between the Doctor and Donna. A genetic copy of the Doctor but with just enough Donna to make me my own person." He spread his arms helplessly, standing. "Mostly human, see?" He turned to the desk and picked up the device he had somehow managed to finish while she had been asleep last night and headed for the door. "C'mon. We've got to get to Cardiff and find Jack so we can get you home."
He walked out of the room to only God knew where, leaving Ellie in silence to absorb all of what he had just told her. It didn't strike her until much much later that he had only mentioned her getting home.
He hadn't included himself.
