A few hours ago at Torchwood One…
Martha sat at her desk, cup of tea in her hand. She hadn't been able to drink coffee since the last time she was in Cardiff. Ianto Jones had ruined her for life. So she drank simple tea, no sugar, bit of milk. It was warm and had caffeine, that was all she needed to know at the moment. Everyone had been going insane since Rose Tyler's disappearance. She had exhausted all her leads and now she needed some quiet to think. Unfortunately, other cases were also taking precedence and she was technically one man short. Some days, she wondered why she left U.N.I.T. in the first place. Loads less stress. She smiled at the photograph that sat beside the monitor. Tom Milligan, her fiancé, smiled back at her. She missed him. It had been months since she'd last seen him, even though he did call her every night. She wished she could get a whole moment to plan her wedding. They hadn't even set a date. Her mother could just about kill her over that simple fact.
Throwing a wink at the picture, she turned her attention to the computer screen, quickly typing her name and password to access Torchwood's database. As soon as she hit the enter a large message appeared on the screen. It was a letter, no, a book written by Mickey Smith. It was rather thorough and explained his reasons for going AWOL. She narrowed her eyes at the words as she read them. She wanted to be mad at him, wanted to hunt him down and drag his scornful ass behind back to London, but she couldn't. She understood why he left. She knew, if it were Tom, she would have done the same.
What Mickey wasn't understanding was that no one had given up on finding Rose. Jackie and Pete just needed something to distract them. Tony was suffering from his parent's obsession. It wasn't fair to the kid. She and Sarah Jane had to deal with other cases. They would all have loved nothing more than to continue focusing all they had on finding Rose, it was just that, they couldn't. Not without going insane. The leads had gone cold and Martha would jump on any slight hint of a lead, if one were to come to her attention. But nothing did. She also knew she couldn't let him go it alone. He needed backup and well, even though the group had, as a whole, voted against involving Torchwood Three, she hadn't been fully against it. She adored Jack and knew he would move Heaven and Hell to bring Rose back.
With a deep sigh, she plucked her mobile off the desk and punched some keys.
"Hullo, love," she said to the weary voice on the other end. "Were you sleeping? I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you that I'll be in Cardiff for a bit." She paused, listening. "Yeah, I will. I'll call you when I'm settled." Again, she stopped to listen, a soft smile crossing her lips. "I love you too, Tom. I miss you. Bye." She rang off, staring at the mobile for a moment before hitting some more buttons.
This time, her expression was more pensive as she waited for the other line to pick up. "Hullo, mum. No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to tell you that I'll be out of town for a bit." She sighed, loudly, while Francine began to rant at her. "Yes, mum, but…I know I haven't set a bloody date!" she yelled down the line. This only managed to rile Francine up and Martha held the phone at almost arms length. She could still hear her mother's voice telling her off. When she thought there might have been a break, she chanced to put the phone by her ear. "Mum, I have to go to work. If Tom is all right with me 'gallivanting across who-knows' then you should be as well." Again, she paused and had to fight the urge to scream. "No, I'm not going off with the Doctor, again. This has nothing to do with him," she half-lied. It was hard to know if it was a lie, considering Rose Tyler was involved. "Mum…mum…MUM!" she shouted again, trying to get Francine to stop. "I'll only be in Cardiff. Not Istambul or Alpha Centuri, so please, calm down. I didn't have to tell you, you know." She was right angry with her mother now. She knew her mother meant well, but it didn't change the fact that the woman was so over-protective. She knew why, it was because of the year they had spent on the Valiant, but that didn't change the fact that Martha had chosen a career that kept her in the middle of that lifestyle and Francine needed to learn to deal with it. She glance at her watch. "Mum, Tom is up, why don't you call him and tell him what a terrible daughter I am. Maybe you two can set a date. You plan the wedding and I'll just show up. Happy now? I've got to go." Not waiting for a response, she cancelled the call. She knew she would pay for that later, but she needed to find Mickey.
Standing up, she snatched up a few items from her desk and went off to the archives to grab a few essentials before heading off to Cardiff.
Present Time:
John Hart was a devious bastard. He was sick and twisted and never turned down a single opportunity. This wasn't always good, but sometimes, in moments such as this, it was a lifesaver. John liked to record everything he did. He could review the recordings, look for information he may have missed, slip-ups from his enemies, or, in a case like this, just cause general havoc. He quickly went through the catalogue in his mind and remembered a certain Eye-Candy that he had, had a brief moment with. He would use Ianto Jones' voice to confuse Harper and hopefully get him away from Blondie.
The wristband projected the voice he was looking for and he used his position near the packing crates to bounce the sound around them. Harper would have no idea where it was coming from. "Owen? Gwen?" Ianto Jones' voice called. He sounded in control and John wished there had been a slight quiver to the Welshman's voice. That would have been truly priceless. The voice did exactly as he had hoped. He was behind the couple, slightly to their left. The voice projection sounded like it was coming from both his far right and from Cardiff Bay itself.
Owen didn't notice a change in Sanguaze as she sensed John's presence - why would he? He didn't have freaky extra-sensory stuff, he was good old-fashioned human. And so he remained completely oblivious to the Captain's presence on any level. Even if he had known that someone was skulking around in the shadows, that particular name wouldn't spring to mind. Captain John was a threat, and there were very few exits for threats from Torchwood. Dangerous beings either ended up detained, frozen, retconned until they couldn't remember their own mother, or dead. And so he'd assumed that John had been dealt with, and was either dead or in some other situation in which he was contained safely. Not wandering the streets of Cardiff.
He froze, when he heard his names over the comm systems. The voice was one he knew so well. Ianto's 'beautiful Welsh vowels', as Jack called them, were distinguishable against any backdrop. The bloody idiot had come this way, rather than to Gwen. And what had he found - a guy who he thought was dead, angrily growling nonsense at a volatile alien. Just your average city scene. Owen's brain tried to tackle the new situation, wondering whether or not he would look more in control if he raised his gun. His right arm twitched as he changed his mind a few times before deciding to settle for a tighter grip on the metal. He didn't need to prove himself to the office-boy, even if he'd probably go running to Jack with tales of Owen's incompetence. Besides, there was no reason for Ianto to stick around, considering Gwen was on her own in that apartment building with a martial arts extra-terrestrial for company. He was about to call instructions over his shoulder when he realized that something just wasn't right.
Johndecided to throw another, just for good measure.
"Why are you doing this?" Again, Jones' voice called out from nowhere and everywhere at once. A sadistic smile curled his lips as he remembered the moment, holding Eye-Candy at gunpoint, pushing him inside that lift. If he had only known then just how much the little shit meant to Jack, he would have killed him on the spot. He may just do that someday, but not now. Now he had to save the beauty from the beast. He gave another slight movement with his head. He lowered it in a submissive move. He wanted the beautiful creature to know he wasn't trying to hurt her.
For good measure, he through the first bit out again. "Owen? Gwen?" John smiled as the sound of those Welsh vowels rang around the dock. He smiled knowing that he was using Jack's boy-toy to try to mind-fuck Harper. It was a good feeling.
Ianto's next question, that wasn't right either. It didn't fit. Owen doubted very much that would be Ianto's first comment when he clapped eyes on a dead man walking. Besides, from what little he'd picked up from Gwen's babble in the SUV on the way here - Ianto was full of cold and wasn't doing great with clear pronunciation as a result. The words that had just rung out into the chilly air were perfectly comprehensible. Something was up, but he wasn't about to take his eyes off Sanguaze to find out exactly what it was. What a minute - Sanguaze! It was in her interests to have his attention averted. From what he had seen of her so far, an injury like that wasn't going to hinder her for very long. He reckoned she could be at his throat in mini-seconds, and he wasn't about to chance it. He wasn't about to let her win.
'Let the games begin', John thought to himself. From the shadows, he watched the chaos that he had created unfurl into madness. It was actually quite beautiful, watching Harper work out the obvious. Of course, Eye-candy wouldn't really be there. Not like Jack would let something that pretty off a short leash. Harper's face seemed to be working through his confusion of the voices, but his conclusion baffled even John.
"What the hell?" His eyes focused on Sanguazes, his gaze was intense and accusing. "How about you stop playing silly beggars now? It's wearing thin darling." He took a step forward, edging closer to her as his eyes narrowed. He was getting severely pissed now, the kind of pissed that he generally got when he hadn't got a clue what the hell was going on.
He thought the bird was doing it? John sighed, not caring if he was even heard at that point. The idiot really thought that the woman was capable of producing a voice that just happened to be of someone he knew? Really? Talk about grasping at straws. But what if she really could do that, wouldn't that be…fracking awesome! He shook himself from his thoughts of a multi-talented cohort/concubine and leaned against the packing crate to see how she would react to Harper's ranting.
It was an immediate struggle to control the charge that leapt through Sanguaze body in slight start as she bit down on her lip sharply, splitting open the bottom section of skin in the process as the moment passed quickly over her and the clammy exterior that was her soon asserted itself once again. Luckily at the sound of clearly welsh voice that was bouncing off the surroundings, Owen had froze at the same time that Sanguaze had reacted, masking the unexpectedness of it all as she ran a quick assessment over him in his distracted state. She could almost see all the cogs turning inside his head as he tried to sort out exactly where the voice was coming from before that look that was well known to be Owen's 'there-in-it-together' look plastered itself across his posture and features in a fraction of second. Oh great, she knew what he was going to assume, once again it was her fault, because apparently this time she was now digging around inside his head, pulling out conversations he was never around to hear and projecting them into thin air. How daft can you honestly get?
His voice was thoroughly tinged with agitation now, as he took a step closer to her in a manner which was egging her on to completely snap. Snarling she stepped forward to close the gap between the pair of them in a clearly hostile manner, her eyes flaring into cat like slits signalling any rational individual to arm themselves or get the hell out of the way. She was seething as she flexed her knuckles in an attempt at self restraint before jolting forward, shoulder aimed to contact his own as she moved forward at a viciously laboured pace past him a few steps before staggering towards the handrail for the walkway off the dock. Left hand gripping the guard rail she panted, her frame wracked with every inhalation as her grip around the metal tightened profusely leaving a very visible dented impression on the metallic surface when she removed her hand from the rail.
"You want me to come back? Make me."
It seemed to Owen that he'd spent most of his life like this. Not in front of a hostile alien, that was only the last four or so years, but instead it was the emotions currently coursing through him that he felt the affinity with. It wasn't a comfortable affinity, but it was something that had stuck fast to him from a very early age. He prone to sink frighteningly easily into bouts of rage, and he knew it - but it was a hard character trait to break, and so he'd given up trying. His colleagues at Torchwood knew better than anyone that Owen could be baited into almost any argument, and that he also started a fair few of his own. Scratch the surface, and he was as bullheaded as the next man, perhaps even more so, and often needed to be physically removed from an argument - because there was no way that his brain would allow him to back down. Anger was intertwined into his soul, and although it didn't feel... right, exactly, it was his safety net. Confusion however, was not a part of him in that sense. It was not safe, or correct and he hated the feeling of it washing over him. It was unsettling, even for a man that has had all kinds of crap thrown his way and lived to tell the tale (well, kind of). The thing is... when he gets confused, he gets pissed off and henceforth lands smack bang in the middle of that anger issue again.
Can you guess where he is now? The tension and the pain rolling around behind his eyes is pretty clear to see. What was also clear, was that he was trying, and I mean really trying, to keep control. His outer body was still, but inside he was shaking with inner turmoil. He knew that if he lost it now, he could compromise everything. The last thing he needed was his guard to fall - he'd basically be handing over his gun, security pass and god knows what else, to a potential alien threat. He doubted very much that Jack would thank him for that.
His words had been venomous, he'd been practically spitting them like a cobra, and so the silence was beyond tense. Owen's eyes seemed to be permanently narrowed in suspicion as he glared at her. She was playing games with him, stupid futuristic mind games that were annoying him no end. What was she thinking would happen? Did she honestly think that the sound of tea-boy's voice was enough to make him back off? Or was she just looking for a small distraction so that she could run? From the looks of her injury, it didn't look like she'd be running far. In fact, it looked like only adrenaline and hatred were keeping her going. The Doctor in him told him that the blood loss she'd suffered over the past twenty-four hours would be enough to floor her, kill her even. But he wasn't listening. If he wasn't so utterly enraged, he might have cared.
She talked, he listened... kind of. The red mist has pretty much descended, clouding his vision and every decision he'd make from here on in. She wasn't making it easy for him to keep his cool. Apparently he was an emotionally dense moron who was half mule. Oooh, who got out of the wrong side of the cell this morning? Get you biatch! Honestly, couldn't she do any better than that? Pathetic. Owen was the king of sarcasm, insults and... weevils, but that was beside the point. The fact of the matter is, he could outdo her inseconds, but he was past that stage. He was at the seething phase, the one where he'd wait, practically stewing in his own pit of anger, before opening his big mouth. And so, he did just that, hoping to allow the silence to cool him down a few degrees. However, Sanguaze obviously had other ideas.
The silence was filled, with a barrage of her hissed words. Owen straightened his frame, allowing a deep breath to fill his lungs and tip his head back slightly. Ordinarily, he'd allow her to slag Jack off as much as she wanted. Heck, he'd probably moan along with her, laugh a little even. Today, however, was different. Sanguaze had overtaken the Captain on Owen's hit-list, and he'd have previously considered that impossible. He guessed, he's holding onto the familiar. Torchwood, was familiar, and Jack was a major part of Torchwood. The olive branch was extended for the moment. There was still a lot of bad feeling on Owen's side and a lot of unanswered questions, but their relationship had always been a bit strained. He'd never much liked authority, and he refused to bend over and take it. Funnily enough, images of Ianto spring to mind at this point... He wondered why...
Yeah ok he was right on one thing, he was the king of sarcasm as far as his narrow mind could perceive, and yes OK Sanguaze backlash of comments weren't amazing or witty, in fact they were pathetic as he put it, but give her a break, she is running on raw adrenaline at this point in the program. This was all like a big bad reality show shown on a high definition screen, except for the fact there was nothing cool about what was going down here, in fact, what was about to happen would probably have been censored off the air before it even had a chance to be broadcasted.
Then she had started hissing, gesturing to her leg as her eyes clearly picked up the slight smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips, he apparently found this amusing to some degree, and that infuriated her. It was probably one of the things that caused her to react so rashly however, as his eyes were drawn to her flexing knuckles before she had launched herself forward, ramming into his shoulder as he seemed to be caught slightly off guard. It was a jarring sensation void of any actual feeling as she managed to stumble a few steps forward, her grip tightening around the banister in front of her.
She could sense that his gun had been drawn immediately up, trained to the back of her head as she removed her grip slightly revealing the crushed metal imprint of her hand embedded in the railing as she took a step forward. Sanguaze also knew that the internal connection they both now possessed would be screaming at him to move his aim to a less vital part of her body, or even perhaps from her sight completely. This connection was having its own effect on Sanguaze, as she hissed out the challenging words before him, her eyes narrowed slits as she looked over towards him across her left shoulder. She knew what she would probably have to do, to get out of this scot-free, and that frankly was not what her mind was wanting her to do. You do not kill, maim, or injure someone you had saved only twelve hours or so beforehand.
Owen's eyes reservedly followed her gesture as she pointed to her foot. And what did she want him to do about it? Help? Try and save her from collapsing on the Cardiff docks. He was only a doctor after all? Pfft, he refused to go over to her and make himself vulnerable by bending down to examine her. Strike that, he doubted she'd let him. Even back in the autopsy room, she couldn't just let him treat her, she'd gone and done it herself. If she was so self-sufficient, he could handle herself now. Owen's mind coursed through the situation and decided the only way he'd go over to help was if she collapsed right in front of him - preferably in a fainted state so that he wouldn't lose any of his limbs when he tried to help. If she was knocked out, he'd be able to take her back to The Hub and call Jack to get his backside over immediately. A slight smile played with his lips as he imagined her waking up to the sight of him and Jack leaning over her, surveying her with cold, detached eyes that screamed 'Torchwood'. Trouble is, he doubted he could be detached from her. Heck, there was something in the back of his mind that was yelling at him for not trying to help her, and it was rather persistent. He tried to ignore it, he was rather attached to his uninjured body and he would like to keep it that way.
His body tensed in readiness as she closed the gap between them. From here, she could make a grab for him in seconds and he needed to be prepared. For all he knew, she could have Wolverine style bone claws that sprung from her knuckles. That was the problem with aliens, they always had a unfair trump card. He didn't have to be a genius to know that her intentions were hostile - it was exuding from her like heat from a flaming pier. Her eyes slipped into feline slits again, it was something he'd seen from her before and so he held himself steady. He wasn't going to back down. He watched as she flexed her knuckles, distracted slightly by the action as she launched herself at his shoulder.
That was it, the last shred of creditable judgement had been zapped from him. That left Owen Harper stripped of training, knowledge and any morals he had left - the bare bones of this Doctor were lain clear for the whole world to see. And they were fused with pain, and hate... and anger. And so, Mount Owen...erupted. Realizing too late to move completely out of the way, or make an attempt to grab her, he felt some of the impact as he shifted to the left, allowing her to roll past him. Spinning around to face her immediately, he raised his gun for the first time. His aim immediately centered on her forehead, the standard procedure for Torchwood intimidation. His hand was steady, but inside, that annoying little voice had sprung to the forefront of his mind and was now screaming at him to stop being so stupid. The connection was hard to ignore, but he was sure it was yet another trick of hers that she was playing on him. She had mind-reading capabilities now, as well as all the other crazy powers he expected her to have. What was she, superwoman? He argued with himself internally before coming to the compromise that if he needed to shoot, he would lower his aim to her leg, therefore injuring but not murdering her. The voice inside him was barely satisfied.
His aim did not falter, even as her racking breaths jolted her body. He moved forward, the wooden boards of the dock creaking under his feet as he closed the distance between them this time. He barely noticed that he was edging down a rather precarious-looking walkway that was rather narrow. He could hear the water swilling around the metal struts that held them above the sea, and had to fight to keep yet another deja vu at bay. He'd have to make her go back to The Hub with him… Never ever challenge Owen to anything. Whether it be Hub basketball or Russian roulette - he'd go for it just to spite his challenger.
In a split second, his aim had diverted onto a new target. He shot at the hand-rail that Sanguaze was gripping on to in order to steady herself. The bullet hit it's intended target - an inch away from her hand, and ricocheted off the dented metal before embedding itself into the wooden planks of the walkway between them. It was an action meant to represent his attitude. He could so easily have shot her through the skull, even with his melted gun, but he didn't. Still, he was angry and volatile enough to be using a gun against her, something he doubted she would appreciate. His aim had been so close to her hand, a slip from either or them would have lost her a finger or two. But right now he didn't give a shit. She was dangerous and needed to be contained. His aim raised to her head again as he breathed in another deep breath to steady himself.
Sanguaze was actually considering what alternatives she had, even perhaps giving in and letting him take her back into custody, that was well, until his body language indicated a shift in his attention as a round from his gun was released at the railing an inch away from her hand. She didn't flinch, she didn't waver, but her gaze definitely indicated a shift in her mood. Sanguaze almost seemed, calm, that or in a bit of a state of shock, she may be alien but she certainly couldn't grow back a blown off appendage. It was clear that the action was representing his mood, and that, Owen Harper didn't like to be challenged. Well tough luck princess, Sanguaze wasn't exactly one to lie down and roll over to anyone's whim, especially someone who threatened her with a half melted gun.
Sanguaze finally seemed to snap out of her premature daze, ass he noted the fact Owen had now edged his way up the walkway towards her, just out of arm's length reach, gun still aimed pointedly at the base of her forehead as she slowly pivoted around to face him. Glancing about slightly, Sanguaze gauged exactly where they both were as she seemed to bounce slightly, testing the strength of the wood and metal planking beneath both their feet, even if it really just looked like her nerves had been acting up. As much as Sanguaze would have loved to hammer Owen into a pulp by this point, she knew that would only do to worsen the situation into a deeper hole and so she had been contemplating other alternative options. Sanguaze not injuring someone physically? well that was a rarity generally speaking, though by the end of this she could assure you Owen's ego would be severely bruised and battered.
Jack had been out of The Hub for the best part of an hour, deep in thought, the time had skipped by and Jack hadn't even noticed. His thoughts were interrupted as he began to make his way back to The Hub. He hadn't had chance to take another stride forward has his phone suddenly sounded. He quickly flicked it open to read the brief automatic message containing just one word from the computer systems at The Hub.
TORCHWOOD
He was a couple blocks away from his base, but it didn't take long for him to get back to where he was needed. He decided to take the scenic route down to the underground base, for like the third time in a matter of couple of hours. He checked the time almost half six in the morning which surprised him to a new height. Time flew when you didn't expect it too. As he stepped of the perception filter, his boots hit ground level, the 'something wasn't right' atmosphere hit him instantly. It looked like he hadn't been quick enough because he couldn't see Gwen, Ianto or Owen also anywhere in The Hub. Instinctively he went over to the computers, noticed the SUV wasn't where it was usually parked and watched, what the CCTV had recorded momentarily a go. He couldn't help but roll his eyes; he was half expecting Sanguaze to break out. Hence the tracker. Always the attractive ones that gave him the run around. He quickly snapped into action and quickly ran up the flights of stair leading towards the tourist office. He grabbed the keys to Gwen's Megane, thankfully she had left the keys. He would put anything on that Owen would be eager to get back behind the wheel of the SUV again, so he had no choice in taking Gwen's car, he hoped she didn't mind.
Tracking the SUV to an abandoned building, a few blocks away with his vortex manipulator, he wheel spinned Gwen's car out of its parking lot and started for his destination. It really didn't take long to get to where he had to be, and he could just see the outline of the SUV ahead of him and Jack parked parallel behind it. No matter how much Gwen disliked his driving, no harm was done to her car, so that was a success in its own little way. His eyes scanned up at the building he had just pulled in front off, and it spoke for it's self. He took a brief look down at his space hopper and acknowledged that there was more then one 'blue' dot flashing back at him. He clicked his earpiece into to life, which, would, hopefully connect with the others. "Gwen, Ianto, Owen, if you can hear me, state your positions?" he asked, and waited a moment to see if he would get a response
It was then the radio on Gwen belt buzzed, as someone attempted to send her a message. Jack or Ianto, because she's sure Owen's a little too busy to be radioing her like this. If it's either one of them she'll have to save the large amounts of grief she'd like to express for later, because this was not the best time. If Braith could, she looked as if she was only a hair away from melting Gwen's face next.
The radio buzzed, an old thing. There was a newer one that Ianto and Owen would rather carry, but Gwen liked the older one she was more used to using in her previous job. Times were simpler then, as was the technology. After seeing what some of this alien technology could do, she wanted to stay as far as possible from having to use any of it. It's not so easy though when you hear of the things they can do, but you get addicted, like a kid with a new game to play. All kids like games as all humans like new, shiny things, even the ones that deny it up and down. Either way, the radio's buzz was the perfect thing to break the ice, in a way. This woman still wanted her out, she was sure.
"I'm terribly sorry about...Sanguaze." She was afraid she pronounced it incorrectly, but it rolled off the tongue fine enough as she looked at Braith hopefully she had calmed down, seeing has two of the three have made their way out the building almost instantly has she requested. It was just Gwen and the alien alone now. "Hold on." She put a hand up just a bit as a simply gesture to enhance her previous, harmless command before reaching for the radio to reply to the message.
"Copy Jack. Where the hell are you?" She didn't even think to answer his question first. No need. Whether he was still back at The Hub or taking her car, he would know. She watched Braith as she spoke, every movement and all. Patiently waiting for a reply from Jack and hoping the woman before her wouldn't go a-woll on her just yet.
Get two Time Agents in the room together, and all (well, mostly) they could do is talk about how big their wrist straps were right? At this moment, Jack's was getting too much, he wasn't sure if it could handle it. It was picking up allsorts of reading in the area, bleeping at him and that wasn't necessarily a good sign, because it never bleeped, maybe it was telling him, it was almost at its climax and that, it simply just had enough. Maybe it would blow up on him again, and when it did, he hoped, it would drop him some place that was worth going to. Actually, no he didn't hope that at all, because he was happy where he was, thanks. That team of his, was worth staying for. The year that next was, the only thing that was on his mind, apart from trying to save the universe of course, was 'that team of his'. He wasn't going anywhere, he didn't think, anytime soon. Cardiff, though? Oh, big deal, it was Cardiff, so what, a lot of things happened in Cardiff, didn't they? Plus he was a citizen, that must count for something. The point is, his wrist strap, it was unpredictable, yeah just like him, but the readings, which was probably going off the scale, never told lies, hmm, not quite like him, but don't tell me you haven't sprung a white lie – well maybe not white, because nobody is never that clean, mauve, yes he'll go with the colour mauve, it's a kinda purple if you didn't already know, the universal colour for danger. That must be saying something.
No offense to Gwen or anything, but her car was way too small… (no we aren't talking about the wrist scrap here, Gwen's car, there's a difference.) …for Jack's slightly larger frame. His knees were up to his chin, and that was with the seat pulled right the way back, to try and give him some room for controlling the pedals, and lets not get onto the rear view mirror… Focusing back on the reading he was receiving from a three way angle. He should be so lucky. First reading was the closest, it was coming from somewhere in the building, he was sat outside. Second reading, was coming from near the bay, those were the same, both flashing blue, meaning alien. So he was guessing, well it didn't take a genius to work out, that one of them was Sanguaze and the other was someone or something else, which one, was which, was something he would have to find out. But the third energy he was picking up, well that was flashing red at him, and if he remembered correctly that was, the sign to show there was another time agent nearby, that's if he remembered correctly, bearing in mind, he was kid when he first joined up, a lot since then has changed. That's not implying, that he is old, well he is, and he isn't getting any younger, but on the outside, it didn't seem like he was getting any older! But the flashing red dot disappeared anyway, like it didn't want to be traced or found, wrist straps could do that also. Clever thing.
Gwen's voice was the first to crackle over his earpiece, it was clear enough for him to hear her although she was in the habit of still using old police equipment. Honestly how does that compared to Torchwood's technology? Simple answer, it didn't. But whatever suits her fancy. She asked him where he was, oh, he could answer that, Sitting in your car, with my knees up to my eyeballs, and that isn't in anyway I find 'flexible', with my wrist scrap going of the scale, satisfied, what more do you want?' "Outside the warehouses" he decided to say and glanced up at the building, having at to squeeze in the abs, just to lean forward. Wait that was good for the abs wasn't it? He'd just have to squeeze them a bit more then. "I kinda took your car for a test drive on the way here, never doing that again, you'd be pleased to hear. What floor you on?"
The voice of Captain Jack rung loudly in Owen's earpiece, and for a split second, he was glad. Perhaps Jack would get himself over here and finish this - something that so far Owen had been incapable of doing himself. No, Sanguaze was his, he would do this himself. He needed to do this himself, alone. Gwen was the first to answer, her voice sliced the air. Owen's stomach flipped over - she was still alive. He'd had reservations about leaving her alone with Braith, and so it was a relief to know she was ok. Still, she needed help right away, and if she wouldn't tell Jack where she was,then Owen would have to.
Owen used his left hand to touch his earpiece, keeping his gun on target in his right. "Jack, track the SUV, Gwen's on the fourth floor of the building that it's parked outside." He paused, keeping his eyes on Sanguaze the entire time. He didn't know that the Captain was already standing outside the building in question. "Hurry Jack, her company ain't too friendly." He rather conveniently left out his own position, and any mention of Sanguaze. Jack needed to be with Gwen right now, no questions asked. Placing his left hand back on his gun, Owen stared into the cat-like slits that were glaring back at him. This needed to end, right here right now. The question was, how?
Oh, John just wanted to run out there, kiss her and do something indecent, like propose marriage. She was definitely a keeper that Sanguaze. If only Harper could see that. He seemed to finally acknowledge the ankle, but he didn't do anything for it. It was bloody bleeding, put the gun down and show her you aren't the enemy, his mind screamed. But something changed. He couldn't hear Harkness on the comm, he was too far away, besides, they were built for stealth, not broadcasting. It was the next thing that Harper said that gave John a slight curl of thrill that clenched his heart.
Owen's voice was next to crackle over their connection. "Yeah, thanks quincy, already outside" As if answering his question, fourth floor Owen, told him Gwen was on. Jack squeezed the abs in a little further, to lean over the steering wheel and counted up to the fourth floor, and ran his eyes over the length of the building, along side the windows, well what was left of the windows in the building. "I'm on it" Jack replied when he said Gwen's company wasn't too friendly. Wait, did that mean Sanguaze wasn't in the building and Owen was on her case… and if that was true, it meant two members of his team, so far was in the hands of two what could turn to pretty nasty ordeals each way you looks at it? He only had one pairs of hands, he could only go one way. "Reserve a line for Sanguaze, tell her she can run all she likes, but she can't hide, not for long anyway, she'll have to come out wherever she is and talk to me sooner rather then later" he told Owen. What a great morning this was turning out to be, besides he wasn't complaining, at least it looked like it wasn't going to be one of those eventful days.
Ianto had not wanted to get up that morning. He was feeling drawn, spread thin. He hated getting up, going to The Hub and not seeing Toshiko. He thought that by now he would be dealing better, but he wasn't. But, up he got. He had to check out an area by the bay, near some warehouses. There had been some minor Rift activity there the night before and he'd left a note for Jack on his desk telling him that he would be checking it out come morning. Knowing Jack, though, it was probably already missing. It was really minor, more like a blip. Nothing to call the troops into deal with. Troops meaning, Jack and Gwen. So, here he was, cold, shivering and standing in the middle of an apparently abandoned warehouse. The scanner held before him as he wandered about the warehouse, trying to follow the readings. They were beginning to spike again, but they weren't clear. He couldn't follow them to a source.
"Gwen, Ianto…*static*…can hear me…*static*…your positions?" Jack's American dialect came to his ear, broken and hissing.
He tapped his comm, hoping to knock some clarity into it. The Rift was affecting the transmission.
"Copy Jack…*static*… you?" came Gwen's voice, same as Jack.
He tapped his comm. "Jack, I'm still at the Llacern warehouse district. Readings are going off the chart but no actual physical activity. Do you need assistance?" he asked, not even sure if his response was going out to his Captain.