Getting Aline out of the building would have been a lot easier if the three Torchwood members didn't have to deal with covering up the whole incident. Namely, Jack had to put forth all his charm and authority to convince the firefighters that, yes, he had caused the fire-alarm, but it was necessary to get civilians out of the way in order to apprehend a dangerous criminal. Gwen, on the other hand, had to put claim over Aline's body so that the paramedics wouldn't take the body bag she was in; Torchwood was more than capable of handling dead people connected to their cases, after all. As for Ianto, he had to apologise about a dozen times about the inconvenience Torchwood had caused, and he even had to assure the landlord that he would pay for all expenses so a new carpet would be installed… on all three floors.
In short, it was a long, frustrating procedure, one that left all three of them with quite the splitting headaches. It was a fortunate thing that Aline didn't gasp back to life in the meantime, or they would also have to deal with positively panic-stricken people screaming about zombies and the coming of the Apocalypse.
Actually, Aline remained dead throughout the whole thing. She didn't stir when she was placed on the back seat of the SUV (the trunk option just sounded plain cruel), or even when she was carried inside the Hub and laid down on the surgical table. Even the healthy hue on her cheeks was gone, making her seem by all means quite dead.
"Maybe you shouldn't have shot her," Gwen concluded, looking with a wince at the angry bullet wounds on the young woman's forehead and chest. "I thought you said we don't want to kill her?"
"She didn't give me much choice in the matter," Jack said, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Well, if it's any consolation, there will be more pizza left for us," Ianto said in the moment, appearing with two large square boxes with the label 'Jubilee Pizza' on them. "Shall I put them in the Boardroom?"
Gwen and Jack decided that Ianto could be a real lifesaver.
"So… how does it feel, Jack?"
It was Gwen who asked that question. All three Torchwood members had been eating their pizza for quite some time, letting comfortable silence fill the Boardroom. In the end, though, the woman decided that she had to say something, anything.
Jack looked up from the pizza he was munching quite happily, more than just a little confused. "How does what feel?"
"You know… That you aren't the only one."
Ianto looked up as well, regarding both Gwen and Jack with a neutral expression.
Jack, however, shrugged. "Can't say the idea has sunk in yet," he answered truthfully. "And even if it had, I'm not like her. She knows it, and I know it."
"How do you know?"
"Three reasons. One, she asked me if I was a Torchwood experiment gone wrong. No mention of the Doctor," Jack said. "Two, she said that if I were like her, she would have felt it, whatever that means; and three," he wiped his fingers briefly on a serviette before digging into his pockets, "You don't see me running around in the middle of the night doing this."
He placed a stack of photographs on the table, drawing Gwen and Ianto's curiosity. Ianto picked up one in which Aline was clearly seen fighting a man, both of them wielding swords.
"I thought we were past settling arguments with duels," the young man said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Pity he's not in a position to argue anymore," Jack said.
This time, it was Gwen who picked up one of the photos. And when she did, she quickly placed her hand on her mouth not to gasp in shock and horror.
"Good god, Jack… She cut his head off!"
"And, apparently, this followed next," Jack said, holding up another photo, depicting a lightning storm. Both Ianto and Gwen's eyes widened when they saw Aline was in the centre of it, floating in mid-air and her back arched as the bright tendrils of the electric currents surged through her.
"What is this supposed to be?" Gwen asked, more than just a little confused.
"The reason we're in hiding."
All three turned around at the sound of that calm, albeit rather weak, voice. Aline was indeed standing at the threshold, her wounds gone and a rosy colour back on her cheeks and lips. The only thing that gave away the grimness of her state till a few minutes ago was the dried blood that covered her top, making quite the surreal image.
"How's the head?" Jack asked, regarding Aline with quite the scrutiny.
"Like someone sent a bullet right through it," she replied dryly.
"I had to do it," Jack said. "You were too focused on Summers to see reason."
Aline gave him a long suffering look. "I've managed to stay alive in the last 3,000 years. Do you really think I need a dashing hero charging to my aid?"
Gwen blinked and exchanged a glance with Ianto. Sure, Martha had said that Aline could live long, but… they had never thought that anyone could actually be older than Jack!
"Yes," Jack replied in that moment, cutting into his colleagues' train of thought. He still looked Aline straight in the eye, unfazed by her anger. "You don't know what you're dealing with."
"I would have found out," she said stubbornly.
"The police would have found you faster by following the trail of heads you left behind," Jack said. "You're still considered a fugitive and a suspect for Robert Adler's death."
"If they didn't find me till now-" Aline started.
"-It's because we got to you first," Jack cut in. "And, unlike them, we're willing to hear your side of the story about this." He held up the photos of Aline battling the two men. "So start explaining."
Aline pursed her lips, her arms still crossed as she bowed her head; she was obviously contemplating her options. In the end, she sighed and sat on one of the vacant seats, her shoulders slightly slumping forward. Gwen noticed how the immortal woman's eyes softened in resignation, weariness swiftly catching up with her.
"I had to fight them. It was either them or me," she said, her voice slipping to a mature, albeit plaintive, depth.
"Are you saying that was self-defence?" Gwen asked, frowning. "I don't understand. Why would you-?"
"Fight for my life when I can't die?" Aline said, a wry smirk tugging on the corner of her lips. "Because we can die. All it takes is someone to take our head… and our power with it."
"I suppose that's where this comes in," Ianto said, holding up the photo of Aline being surrounded in lightning.
She nodded. "It's the victory zap for winning the fights. The idea is that the older an Immortal is, the greater power they have. Thus, the Immortal who receives the Quickening becomes more formidable so they can hopefully survive the next fight."
"So, what, you try to find one another across the country to cut your heads off?" Gwen said, clearly abhorred. "What is this, some sort of game?"
"Yes."
Ianto sat up, staring at Aline as realisation caught up with him. "You fight each other till only one of you is left. A constant battle under our very noses so one of you can claim the Prize," he said, recalling Anderson's words.
Aline nodded, obviously impressed by Ianto's skill of deduction. "In the end, there can be only one," she said.
"So what's so important about this Prize?" Jack asked. "It must be pretty big if it means killing people that you probably even like."
"No one knows for sure," Aline said, shrugging. "Some say it depends on who wins it. If it's a good person, then the world will see the dawn of a golden age; if it's a bad one, the world will be covered in darkness. Some say you'll gain ultimate knowledge… and some say you'll finally become mortal. Maybe even have children." Her voice softened at those last few words, but she shook her head. "Not that it's important. The Game started in the very beginnings of time, and more Immortals are being born every day."
"Hold on… Born?" Gwen said, frowning. "You mean it's like some sort of mutation in the genes?"
"If it were that simple, then mortal scientists would have known of Immortals long ago," Aline said. "There are many with the potential of becoming Immortals living among you, growing old with you, and dying of old age with you, never realising what they could have been."
"Obviously, you weren't one of them," Jack said dryly. "So what happened?"
Aline sighed. "I was raped and murdered. My sister-in-law didn't appreciate her brother being married to a barren woman, yet she knew a divorce would mean not getting her hands on my property. So she got rid of me."
"Oh…" Gwen's expression saddened in sympathy. "How old were you then?"
"Twenty-five," Aline replied. "Still, justice was served."
"How did you do it?" Jack asked, intrigued.
"Jack!" Gwen hissed.
"Actually, I didn't have to do anything," Aline said. "Seeing me walking up to her, drenched in my own blood, scared her out of her wits. Quite literally."
"And you kept that as a memento?" Jack asked, nodding in the direction of Aline's sword. The weapon was on the table, quite some distance from the four people, its blade glistening harshly under the lights of the Boardroom.
"Immortals may survive the passing of time, but the swords don't. However," Aline took the sword in her hands, her fingers holding it trustingly and without error, "I admit that I wanted an exact replica of that sword… even better than the original, if possible." She smiled at it, as if it was a dear friend. "I honestly don't know who invented stainless steel, but I sure owe him; spending hours polishing blades to avoid corrosion can be a bother."
Gwen looked at the sword, cocking her head as curiosity overwhelmed her. "A bit small, isn't it?"
"I believe it's a Spartan sword," Ianto said, taking another bite off his pizza. "Soldiers needed them to be small so they could hang from a baldric under their left arm, ready to be used once the enemy was at close range."
Aline nodded, obviously glad that she didn't have to give a history lesson. Jack and Gwen, on the other hand, faced Ianto with a frown of surprise.
"The wonders of the Internet," Ianto explained with a shrug.
"Right. All the same…" Gwen said, disregarding the matter, "How is it possible no one's noticed anything in all these centuries? With so many beheaded people found lying about, you'd expect reports about serial killers by the hundreds!"
"We've learnt to hide and appreciate the privacy of abandoned warehouses and buildings, as well as the importance of giving the body a proper burial and laying low for long periods of time," Aline said, shrugging. "The last thing any of us needs as another witch hunt."
"Another?" Gwen echoed.
"Two words: French Revolution." Aline's index finger crossed her neck in a universal sign of 'Being offed.'
"Oh." Gwen's hand reached for her neck without realising.
"Yeah."
"Except now they're onto you again," Jack pointed out.
"It looks like it," Aline agreed. In the next moment, however, she frowned. "Although… something doesn't add up."
"And that is?" Jack asked.
"If Summers was really after me to kill me, he had his chance the night he had Robert killed," Aline said. "Nevertheless, he let me go."
"Maybe he got cold feet?" Gwen suggested.
"Or he was following orders," Jack said thoughtfully. "The question now is: who gave them?"
Just then, the sound of ringing filled the air, making all four people tense and exchange glances.
"Ianto?" Jack said.
Ianto nodded. After wiping his hands on his serviette, he dug out a gun out of his pocket and headed upstairs.
Another ring filled the air, and Ianto had to call out, "Be right with you!" as he went up stairs two by two. He soon found himself in the office of the Tourist Information shop, which was already bathed with the grey cloak of pre-dawn. He could even see the dark silhouette of a man outside the door as the meagre light shone through the glass window.
Ianto clenched his jaw, and he felt the gun in his fingers, trying to assure himself that he was in control of the situation. If it was just an innocent passer-by, then he would be able to see them on their way. If not though… well, he was ready to get nasty. With that thought in mind, he slowly opened the door.
Even with a raincoat covering his body, Ianto could tell that the man standing at the threshold was quite robust and without many unwelcome pounds taking a toll on his stomach, like most people of his age – the crow's feet and his silver hair and beard clearly indicated that he was close to sixty. However, the proud posture of the body, despite the cane that supported it, and the piercing gaze of brown eyes indicated that he was certainly no tourist.
"Can I help you?" Ianto said, deciding to be polite. He still kept the gun in hand, concealing it behind the door.
"Yes, you can," the man said, and he pushed the back of his sleeve to reveal the Aries-like symbol on his wrist. "My name is Joe Dawson, and I want to talk to your superior. Now."
TBC...
