Doctor Who: ALBION - Countdown
Chapter 31 - Parlays
Disclaimer - I don't own nothing or nobody you know/recognize. Doctor Who is intellectual property of the BBC, afaik.
Characters: Gleeson!Doctor, Markham, River, Jack, OCs
Will Markham woke in unfamiliar surroundings. He could tell it was just daybreak from the faint light coming in from the windows. Possibly overcast, he mused as he sat up. A mistake as his head swam and he fell back on the bed. The other occupant grunted in annoyance. Will looked over to see the back of another man's head poking out from the blankets. He leaned over to see his face. Shakespeare, he realized.
Will tried to get up again. Slower, this time. He scanned the room and found his objective. He rose and stumbled his way to the corner where the chamber pot lay and did his business, relieving the pressure on his bladder. He returned to the bed and sat down again, turned to face his host.
"Are you staring at me?"
"Did we, uh- I don't recall seeing you last night after the first tavern?" Markham fumbled.
"I espied you in an alley," the Bard told him without opening his eyes. "I thought it best to bring you here, lest you wake this morning in your own filth. You nearly cost me a new pair of shoes, by the nonce."
"Thank you, and...sorry," Will smirked. "Is that all? I mean-?"
"You were barely conscious when I brought you in, my friend," he explained. "I only stripped you after having assistance bringing you up to my chambers. No, there was no repeat of the other night's festivities."
"I'm sorry I put you out," Will replied. "How can I repay your hospitality to me?"
Shakespeare rolled over and was about to say when there was a knock at the door. "I wasn't expecting anyone this early?" he told Will.
Markham crept to the door and silently cursed the lack of peepholes in this time. "Who calls at this hour?" he asked.
"An old friend," came the gruff reply. "Open up, old man, you need to get out of here."
"Eh, What?" he asked, cracking the door to see who it could be. A large man in a hooded cloak stood there, a bit of orange beard the only hint to his identity. He took advantage of Will being off balance and pushed his way into the room.
"I thought I heard voices. Get dressed, old man," he ordered. "Don't worry, I've seen you in worse circumstances," he smirked at the scene of two men in smallclothes, one still in his bed.
"Who are you?" Shakespeare demanded. "What business do you have with my friend?"
"My apologies, good sir," he gave a slight bow. "I must abscond with Sir Markham lest he face imminent peril."
"What?" Will asked.
"I cannot explain further in mixed company," the stranger insisted.
"Why not?" Shakespeare inquired.
"The longer he stays here, the more your life may be in danger, and if you die here and now-?" he blurted before he caught himself. He glanced back to Will. "There are forces being seeded throughout time to hunt us down, old man."
Will studied the stranger for a moment, then began to dress.
"Why do you call him 'old man'?" Shakespeare inquired. "He's barely older than I am?"
"He's older than he looks," the man insisted. "I could call him something else, which would convince him to listen to me immediately, but I also have my own secrets to maintain at the moment."
Markham eyed him a moment as he pulled his shirt down and grabbed his boots. "Are you going to tell me which one you are?"
The hooded man's head turned to Markham for a moment, then shook. "Not now, not here."
"You do know he's here, as well?"
"Yes, now hurry up and get dressed," he insisted. He turned to Shakespeare. "My lord, I apologize for the early hour of intrusion, but time is of the essence and we must away. It is a great honor to meet you again. If any should come after you, aim for the head and destroy the body as soon as you can. They were not meant for this time."
The writer looked at his intruder aghast. "Are you telling me to kill and burn people?"
"These are not people, and I doubt you could call their master human," he said, taking the man's hand. "I can only wish you luck in your endeavours. Fare thee well. I do not think we shall meet again." He turned to usher Markham out.
"I am sorry for this abrupt departure, my friend," Will said and kissed him on both cheeks. "I again thank you for your hospitality last night, but we must depart, post haste." He pulled the man closer. "In case anyone asks, you never heard of me, and this never happened. What was it you said, 'Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well'?"
"Fare thee well, my friend," the Bard replied as the pair departed. He realized he had forgotten the line from the previous night and went to write it down.
On the street, the cloaked man led the way back to where Will's friends waited. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused?" he chided.
"Are the others okay? If I understood what you were saying back there-?"
"More Clockwork Assassins," the larger man confirmed. "We haven't spotted any yet, but we know they're here."
"Who is sending them? And who are they sending them after?" Will insisted.
"It was a mistake to bring that one aboard," the stranger told him. "He remembered them, and is now using them for his revenge. It's probably how he found you here and elsewhere."
Will grabbed at the other man's arm, but he pulled away. "Which one?"
"You can't do anything to change it, now," the other man told him. "We can only delay his attacks, keep them from killing their targets. It is up to me to stop him."
"What can I do to help?"
The larger man hesitated. "Stay sober. I fear the initial damage has already been done, and it wasn't your fault."
Will followed silently for a minute. "I'm sorry."
"I'm still not the one you need to apologize to."
"It needed to be said," he insisted as he spotted another cloaked man standing at the corner of a familiar alley.
"Actually, this one should be saying it to you," the man decided as they approached.
"Who says what now?" the second cloaked man asked.
"Apologize to him."
The second man seemed to look at Will for a moment. "Oh. I didn't recognize you at first. Sorry for stabbing you, back in Barcelona. It was...a bad time for me. I was still trying to control, um, myself."
"Who are you?" Will asked.
"He just told you," the larger man said. "Now get inside before we're all spotted out here."
Will started down the alley, then turned and stopped. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Things will turn out as they turn out, old man," he insisted. "We'll see you soon enough." He held up his hand in farewell, then placed it over his heart as Will turned and entered his own invisibly cloaked TARDIS.
The two cloaked men turned away to hurry back to their own transport. They had barely gone a block when they came upon two masked figures. One was dressed as a medieval doctor, the other in blue striped motley.
"Oh blimey."
Jack sat in the dark room across the table from the other man, studying him. The other two couples had turned in for rest, while Gloucester crashed on his sofa in the other room of his apartment. Martha had given Rhys a once over, claiming his wounds were healing. She had asked Jack why his blood now had healing properties. He had no answer for her. It had given their American associate a brief bout of healing as well, after he had transfused Jack's blood into his body to end the Miracle Day Incident. Rex later informed him the effect had begun to wear off as his own body naturally replaced the immortal's transfused blood.
James Gloucester had claimed he had seen that this...man? No, this abomination of a man had been infused with one of the samples of blood Abaddon had drained from him. Jack had no idea what that monster was playing at. He had imbibed several quarts himself, then had Gloucester and his assistant Belew drink of it, even drenching James in it. To what end, though?
Whatever reason Abaddon had for partaking of Jack's immortal blood, he hadn't expected it to free Gloucester and Belew from being his thralls. Nor for this...clone to betray him. This doppelganger that bore a face familiar to Abaddon's other captives. One that Jack and Gwen, even Rhys, had come to love. One that could break their hearts, if not also their wills.
"Are you hungry?" Jack finally asked, quietly, so as not to disturb James on the couch, or the others. He knew this thing hadn't touched the pizza Mickey had brought back.
"No."
"Thirsty?"
"No."
"What are you?"
"I am Ianto Jones."
"No, you are not," Jack growled.
"That is the name I remember."
"Who called you that? Abaddon?"
"You. Gwen. Many times."
"Ianto Jones is dead."
"I remember you. I remember Gwen and Rhys. I remember Lisa. Toshiko, Owen, Suzie. Myfanwy. Martha...and...I remember Rhiannon."
"Rhiannon? Who is that?" he asked, knowing the answer.
"My sister."
"You are not Ianto. You have no sister," Jack insisted.
"I have his memories."
"How? How did you get Ianto's memories?"
The Flesh was silent a moment. "I...I do not know. I remember being Ianto. I remember dying."
"what?"
"There was an alien behind glass. It released a gas. Poison. It killed us both. I remember...I remember dying in your arms."
"Impossible!"
"I remember."
"You are not Ianto Jones!" he declared and left the room.
"I remember," the man said, still sitting there in the dark.
"Of course you do, love," John Hart said, rising from his seat in the corner of the room. He followed Jack out.
Abraxas stared at the two people in front of them. Something seemed off. "This isn't the pair from before, the jester's colors are wrong. They smell of machinery," Vislor informed him. "Clockworks."
The word was barely out of his mouth when two more people stepped into the street. Under his cloak, Abraxas pulled out his Sonic. The Clockwork doctor and harlequin seemed to consider the two cloaked men beneath their notice as they turned to face the Time Lord and his companion, who had already drawn her sword.
"Hold off, Akasha" the Doctor warned. "These two didn't cause us any trouble before, why should they-"
The Clockwork harlequin's arms stiffened and a blade extended from each. It took up a fighting stance opposite the young samurai. The Clockwork doctor's finger's extended to twice their length as it took up a similar stance.
"-what?" the Time Lord fumbled, reaching for his own Sonic. "Clear the streets!" he shouted to the handful of early morning passersby, not recognizing the cloaked Abraxas and Vislor among them.
"I can tear their heads off!" Vislor insisted.
"Quiet, fool, lest he hear you," Abraxas warned.
Before either pair could react, the Clockworks were in motion. The harlequin began dueling Akasha while the doctor feinted at the Time Lord. Abraxas pushed his companion back from the fray. "Do not engage unless their lives are-" he started, then saw the medieval doctor shoot his fingertips at the Time Lord. "Correction, protect them at any cost!"
Abraxas grabbed a board laying nearby and whacked the Clockwork doctor in the back of the head. The automaton turned and fired another barrage of finger needles at him, most were caught by the board. Two embedded themselves in his right shoulder, a third in his left hip. He stumbled back against the building and realized his head was fogging up.
The Doctor turned his Sonic at the brown Clockwork, which stopped and began smoking. Abraxas yelled "Take the head!" and the Time Lord grabbed it from behind, wrenching it off the body in a shower of sparks. He pitched it at the harlequin, which deflected it easily as it continued to duel Akasha. While she parried, Vislor tackled the jester's legs, knocking him to the ground. In one swift move, she decapitated it.
The Doctor saw the threat was ended for the moment and went to the fallen man. "Are you okay?" he asked, pushing back the man's hood and staring at his own thickly bearded face in surprise. "Abraxas? What are you playing at now?" he demanded, the fury rising. "How did you get here?"
"Poisoned blades. Leave us, you need-" he started, but whatever drugs the needles had been laced with, were stronger than him. He fought to stay conscious. The Time Lord grabbed the other man's wrist to check his pulse, only to turn it over and spy the Sonic in his hand. Modified from Barcelona, he noted. Or was Barcelona still in this man's future?
"Doctor!" Akasha cried out. "More attackers!"
"Eh?" He turned to see at least twenty more Clockwork Assassins materializing in the street. They wore the same blue garb he remembered from the attack on Madame du Pompadour. Abraxas grabbed him by the shirt.
"Forget us! We're...not target!" he gasped. "Will! Protect Will!"
"What? Shakespeare?"
Abraxas nodded. "He's trying to destroy time...going after your allies...after your history! No time...safe." He groaned and clutched his lower right side.
The Doctor frowned as he noted that would be the same place his second heart was. Was that where the human spleen was, he wondered as he asked "Who is it? Is the Master returning?"
Abraxas shook his head. "Worse...than Master. Abaddon."
The Doctor looked at his scraggly -and likely deranged- twin nemesis in confusion. "Abaddon? Who is he? Why attack me using your face?" The name rung a bell. Something he heard Jack had mentioned in passing to Martha after they returned Earth to it's proper orbit when Davros stole it to the Medusa Cascade and tried to destroy reality.
"Bloody Hades. Thicker than 'member, old man," Abraxas smirked, struggling to stay awake. "If I'm Abel, then...then he-" The drugs finally won out, knocking Abraxas unconscious.
"Abraxas? If you're able to what?" he asked, shaking the man. "Abraxas!" There was no response. The Doctor looked around for the man's companion, who was now readying to face off with Akasha against the squad of Clockwork Assassins. "Akasha! With me! I know who they're after!" he called out, reluctantly leaving the enigmatic Abraxas behind.
The onno-bugeisha still took two heads before she followed the Time Lord from the battle. Vislor smiled at the rest. "Come at me then!" he roared and stopped fighting his animal instincts, letting them take over.
He didn't last long. Within two minutes, the Clockworks had overpowered the werewolf and subdued him. Abraxas fought his way back to consciousness only to see himself surrounded. Three of the Clockworks pointed their blades at him. The harlequin stepped closer. Abraxas gave a snort of derision. "So this is how it ends, eh?"
A moment later, the streets of London were clear of any hint of battle.
The Doctor barged into William Shakespeare's quarters. "Will! Take cover! You're in danger!"
The Bard looked up form his desk to see the new face of his drinking companion from the night before. One another new friend obviously wanted to avoid. "Doctor? What is going on? What is the reason for this intrusion?"
"There are assassins after you!" the Time Lord bellowed, peeking out the window and shuttering it. Akasha took up guard at the door.
"What in Heaven's name are you on about?" he demanded.
"There is a squad of, well, they look like Parisian courtiers to you -eventually, that is- but they're really assassins," the Time Lord tried to explain.
"Assassins?"
"Assassins, hired killers, mercenaries, sellswords, whatever you want to call them!" he spouted. "He said they've been sent after my allies, which include you!"
"But we've only met!" the Bard protested. "How can they-?" He stopped and seemed to realize something. "oh."
"What?"
"Will. He's in trouble, as well."
"Will? Will who?"
"My friend, Will Markham, he...he's not from around here, much the same as you," Shakespeare explained as best what he did not fully understand. "He asked I not reveal his presence to you, but if the situation is as grave as you import? I fear for his safety, as well."
The Doctor fumed. "Markham? Fat, beard, funny accent and manners, Markham?"
"Yes? You know him?" he asked. He had seemed to trust the man who had come after him, but if he had been deceived?
"I'm the reason he's even here," the Time Lord growled. "Sort of. Technically. But he shouldn't be here! He never came here with...with me?" He realized now what had happened to the man from Albion and his children. "damn them," he cursed under his breath. "Damn them all!" He started for the door.
"Please, tell me what's going on?" Will asked.
"We've been had!" the Doctor fumed. "They've made a fool out of me! Akasha, come on!" He stormed from the inn back to where they had faced off with the Clockworks only to find the streets empty of battle and the locals just now venturing forth from their homes.
"Can you tell which way they went?" he asked the girl as he tried to scan the area without drawing too much notice.
She shook her head. "No sign. It's as if they disappeared the same way they appeared," she said.
He checked the readings from his Sonic. "No energy traces, either. Whoever sent them, Abraxas or this Abaddon, they knew to cover their tracks from me." He glanced around at the locals. "Did anyone see which way those well dressed people went? Those lords or actors or whatever you want to call them in the masks?"
Most tried to ignore him, a few shook their heads in fear. He couldn't tell if they were still afraid the Clockworks would come back or if they were afraid he would hurt them from his obvious anger.
"Come on, let's get back to the TARDIS, see if she recorded anything that might be useful," he told Akasha. "Be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, though."
"This whole world is out of the ordinary for me," she reminded him. "So many gaijin, like you."
Abaddon reviewed the security footage once more. He glanced up from his monitor to the man in blue standing across his desk from him. "Do you know what I think?"
"No, sir?" Belew answered.
"I think it was a mistake feeding Harkness' blood to the lot of you," he informed the other man.
"Sir?"
"I made James drink it, I fed it into one of the prisoners and the Fleshling, and I even let you taste it. The others have betrayed me, Belew. How long until you reveal your allegiance?"
"I am your man, my lord."
Abaddon rose from his chair and circled the desk to face Belew. He struck the man, knocking him to the floor, nearly dislocating his jaw. "Never call me Lord," he warned.
Kent Belew tasted the blood in his mouth. He fought the urge to get up and return the blow, but that would surely mean losing his cover, if not his life. "As you wish, sir," he said meekly.
Abaddon grabbed his shoulder, pulled him up, and turned him to face him. He grabbed the man's head and held it tight. Belew could feel his mind twisting like taffy. He fought the urge to scream out.
"Useless," Abaddon said, dropping the other man to the floor. "Follow me," he ordered and left his office.
Belew pulled himself together and stumbled after. He had almost regained his senses when he saw they were now in the lab with the aliens.
"How go my projects?" Abaddon demanded.
"The second Flesh is almost ready," one of the Raxacoricofallapatorians replied. Belew tried not to look at the green creature. Even when it simply blinked sideways, it creeped him out.
"And the other project?"
"We, ah, we need a little more time," it said. "Without the chronal device to study, we can only guess as how to proceed."
"Harkness," he cursed under his breath. He struck Belew once more, knocking him to the floor. Standing over the fallen man, he informed the creatures "I have another experiment I want you to run."
Belew whimpered from pain as much as fear.
John Hart leaned against the balcony railing Jack had a death grip on. "Are you going to get any sleep or just sit out here and fume all night?"
"Leave me alone, John."
Hart nodded back inside. "He's got you all riled up, and with good reason."
"He shouldn't exist."
"He does exist."
"He has all Ianto's memories."
"Was there something you two did you should be ashamed of?" he smirked. "Something even more depraved than what we-"
"Ianto is dead."
"I recall killing you a couple times now, and yet here you are," he pointed out.
"That's different!"
"Different how?"
"He- That thing is pretending to be someone who died, John! Ianto died in my arms!"
"So I heard, and, may I point out, so are you," Hart countered. "If your friends in there only knew the real you, what you've done in your life? I doubt they'd still be your friends, amigo."
"That's not the same and you know it. Adopting different identities was part of our job," he reminded his fellow ex-Time Agent. "I just got caught up in this one."
"And now it's all you can remember?" He pointed inside. "Pretty sure I-candy in there is going through the same thing."
"Don't call him that," Jack warned, eyeing his compatriot. "What about you? Awfully convenient you wind up 'working' at the same place we wind up being held hostage at, isn't it?"
Hart shrugged. "Well, you know how it goes. After you freed me from Gray, I kicked around a bit, got bored, then joined up with UNIT right as the whole world is turned upside down by being unable to die. I got lucky in that they weren't exactly turning away the help, then. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Jack didn't answer.
"Anyway, color me surprised when I find out that your little Torchwood scam is pretty much dissolved, and what's left was absorbed by UNIT. That was where I managed to get transferred, knowing you wouldn't be too far behind. The new head of UNIT was some chippy who wanted to focus on the boring scientific mumbo-jumbo," he mocked before continuing. "She all but ignored what alien tech they recovered from you lot at Canary Wharf and your Hub in Cardiff."
This caught Jack's attention. "Bodies. Did they find any bodies down there?"
"Not that I heard?" he replied, then realized what Jack was asking. "If they had found Gray, I would have contacted you, had I known how. I still like you enough to do that," he confided.
"The blast must have burned them all," Jack mused. "I'm surprised they found enough of me for me to recover."
"You were caught in that blast?" John asked. "I heard about it on the news. I tried to read the UNIT files, but they were way above my pay grade at the time."
"What about now?"
Hart shrugged. "Abaddon probably had all of us blocked from- oh crap."
He looked at Jack and saw he must have realized the same thing. "The first thing I would do was to monitor the usual haunts of any escapee, no matter who it was."
Hart glanced out into the city. "Think they've pegged us here, yet?"
"We can't take that chance," Jack said, already running inside. "Everybody up! We've got to get out of here!"
Mickey came running out of one of the bedrooms, gun in hand. "What's going on?" he demanded as Rhys came out of the other, zipping up his slightly too small borrowed jeans.
Jack tried to ignore the obvious state of affairs that had taken place behind their respective closed doors. "We can't stay here, they may already have traced us," he told them. "Get the girls ready to move out immediately!"
Gwen's voice came from behind Rhys. "OI!"
"Ladies, women, whatever! Move!" he corrected. He then turned and saw Gloucester pull a pillow over his head.
"Bloody hell, can't even sleep on my own spare couch!"
"Move it, James, we're not safe here!"
"You think I would have let you crash here if they knew about this place?" he muttered, trying to wake up.
"What?"
"I told you, I don't live here, it's just a place I crash when I- never mind," he argued. "I pay in cash and it's not my real name on the lease."
Jack knelt down beside him. "How many people know about this place?"
Gloucester pulled the pillow from his face. Jack's face was inches away. "Before? Two others. Now? You lot."
"Which two, James? Who else knows about this place?"
"Just the bird I'm having an affair with and- oh. Bugger."
"Who knows, James?" Jack insisted. "Belle and who else?"
"Belew. I told him, but only as an emergency," he insisted. "Surely he never wrote anything down about it?"
"We're out of here," Jack told him. "We don't have any way of knowing if or when Abaddon will corrupt him again."
Gloucester was on his feet and moving, the whole apartment was a flurry of activity in their haste to leave except for one person. Martha, Gwen, Jack, and even Rhys had gone out of their way to ignore him, but now they had to decide whether it was worth the risk to endanger themselves by bringing the doppelganger along.
"I can always kill him," Hart offered, pointing his gun at him.
"Not in my apartment, you bloody twat," Gloucester warned. "I'll never get my deposit back!"
"No. We bring him," Jack decided, jaw clenched. Gwen and Rhys gave him disproving looks. "I won't leave him behind," he told them, leaving the man's care to Martha and Mickey.
51st century
Abraxas studied the disparate group before him as he watched the class from the back corner of the room. Most were human and experienced military, at that. The few non-humanoid aliens were selected for specific tasks, he knew. A few were already getting to know their comrades in more ways than one, for which they had been scolded. One in particular, he reluctantly admitted, even if it wasn't unexpected.
The man with (mostly) salt and pepper hair at the front held up a blank white square. "This is psychic paper, as some of you already know. This will save your life and help on your missions more than you ever thought possible. You will master the use of it and never allow your stray thoughts to alter what others may see on it," he explained. More than a few eyes glanced at one young man in particular. "Am I clear?"
Nearly the whole class gave their assent. A moment later, those closest to him began smirking. Herbert elbowed Henry Morgan, who was distracted by taking notes, to look up only to blush. The teacher made note of this and glared at the mischievous teen again. "I said, am I clear?"
The teen from Boeshane stood up and saluted. "Sir! Yes, sir! I understand completely, sir!"
"Then would you care to explain what image this paper shows that is so humorous?"
"Yes sir! The paper shows a drawing of you being, ah, pleasured by a Dalek in the rudest way possible, sir!"
"What, you thought those bumps were their eggs or something? Daleks are as sexy as they are deadly," he noted, unperturbed by the projected image. "They also are not affected by psychic paper. Show this to a Dalek and he will exterminate you regardless. Same applies to Cybermen. Save your humor for your own time," he scolded the teen. He turned back to address the rest of the class. "In fact, I know of only one man who showed no fear of Daleks, and that was not because he was unaware of their threat or even a limited intelligence!"
In the back of the room, Abraxas cleared his throat.
The teacher ignored him. "His main fault was that he cared too much, which nearly cost him his life. Do not make the same mistake."
An hour and several interruptions later, he finally dismissed the class to their physical training class. "Not you," he warned the teen as the others filed out. Abraxas rose and joined the pair at the front of the room.
"You know, kid, you may be the poster boy for the agency, but that also means you have to set the standard for the other cadets," he reminded the youth. "The bar you're setting is pretty low, even for some of the worst places we'll be sending you lot."
"Like Planet Vegas?" he offered hopefully. "I've, uh, heard about this bar there, that-" he began, but Abraxas held up a hand for him to stop.
"You have no idea what is in store for this squad, once you get out in the field, lad," the teacher warned.
"And how much time travel have you done?" he asked.
Abraxas and the aged Markham shared an amused look. The governor placed his thick hand on the teen's neck. "Kiddo, you have no idea how much we've been through and what we're sending you up against. Legions of armies of Autons, Cybermen, Daleks, Silents, Sontarans, and who knows what all else lie in wait to attack from any front, any era. And that's just for a start."
"It's not the armies you have to look out for, it's the small time crooks we're sending you after," Markham warned.
"But we're still risking our lives defending the universe across time and will never be publicly thanked for it," the teen repeated from the recruitment handbook. "I know all about it, guys."
"Don't ever think we're going to take it easy on you, kiddo," Abraxas informed him. "We have numerous reasons why we have to treat you the way we do, which means we have to be harsher on you than anyone else, here."
"I know how you two can treat me, Big Red," he suggested.
"I know how we can cool your jets, too, lad," Markham warned and reached out to touch the teen's head. He shared a memory from his past, which left the youth stunned.
"W-what-what was that?" he asked.
"A taste of what awaits you if you don't start to take this seriously," he replied. "This is no game. We're fighting for the survival of the universe, here. I'm proof of what can happen when one man is allowed to change one world. I gave up all of that, my entire life, my family and my world, to set things right."
The teen looked between both men and considered what he had been shown. "I-I guess I can see your point," he admitted.
"Okay then, now get to PT. Your aunt Jenny is sure to work you extra hard since you are now late to her class," Abraxas told him.
"I'll tell her you kept me after class," the teen smirked and started to leave, then stopped. "So about that treat?" he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
"Go." the two men said in unison, watching sternly as he left the room with a salute.
"So what did you show him, Mr. Williams?" Abraxas inquired once he was gone, emphasizing the assumed name.
"Exactly what I said," Will told his friend. "He doesn't need to know that that...man that changed everything, creating my Albion, was a future version of Jack."
Abraxas sensed the lingering anger and laid his hand on Will's shoulder. "Are you sure you're going to be able to deal with training this kid? If he ever finds out who Jack is, much less-"
Will grabbed his foster son's hand. "I've dealt with it. I am dealing with it. I know we can't screw up here. If he doesn't grow up to be Jack, then the universe will die, not to mention what it will do to the old man. Or us."
Abraxas nodded. "Yeah, we can't ever forget the old man," he agreed with distaste. "Excuse me, I've got a planet to govern," he said and left the room.
Will sat down at his desk and glanced out the window. He could see the boy he raised cross the quad in front of the building and leave in his personal air skiff. He had no idea how long he sat there staring at his own aging reflection, wondering how long he would continue until his body would finally give out. He guessed his current age at somewhere around 120, but he had stopped caring well before the century mark. Physically, he barely looked like someone in their mid-60s from his own time, even despite his weight loss. He knew he had enough of Greaves' genes in him retarding his aging and wondered how his family back in lost Albion fared, if they even still existed. His boys would likely be grandfathers or even great-grandfathers themselves by now, comparatively speaking. And what of Charles and Miranda, their son, King Will? Those three had even more of Greaves' genes than him. How old would they get? How old did they appear, now?
He had found himself eyeing the boy during class, wondering what dark secret inside him could turn him into someone like Greaves. Had it been the attack on his home, the loss of his father and brother? Gray's misguided vengeance on Jack in the boys' own future, back in the early 21st Century? Or had it been the knowledge that thanks to Rose Tyler, he would never die, the passing centuries slowly driving him insane?
And then there was his wife Toshiko and Jackson. His heart ached for them all, even now, decades since he had last seen them. Even then, the faces he remembered, the people he saw last did not know him, did not share the same memories. He tried to buy Tosh a drink once, after he had arrived in this timeline, but she refused his advances. And Jackson...that had gone worse. Not to mention what had happened with Su when-
Someone cleared their throat behind him. He didn't even turn around. "Hello, sweetie."
"I don't know who you were expecting, but I'm not your sweetie," the pinch-faced youth replied.
Will turned to see the young man who would become John Hart leaning against the doorway. He was already showing signs of the swagger he would become infamous for. "Apologies. You're not who I was expecting. What do you want?"
"I, ah, happened to overhear your conversation with the Governor earlier and I'd like to know who this 'Jack' is, as well," he threatened. "Or I tell your prize pupil, our dashing 'Face of Boe', everything I heard you two talking about."
Will's eyes narrowed. "Fine. But the only way to tell you is the same way I showed my 'prize pupil'. Are you ready?"
"Lay it on me, old man," the blond teen smirked.
Will was glad the halls were deserted at this time of day. The boy's screams had less chance of drawing unwanted attention.
"Where are we going?" Gwen inquired as Jack sped along in their stolen minivan. It was the first thing they found that could carry all eight of them.
"I don't know."
"What happens when we run out of petrol?" Rhys asked, leaning forward.
"I don't know."
"What if we 'steal' one of my lorries? Will that help?" he pressed. "I can alter the paperwork at Harwood's if I have to," he offered.
"I. Don't. Know."
"Well, what do you know, you sodding twat?" Gloucester shouted at him from the back.
"That we need a place to crash that no one would associate with us. Somewhere private, but secure. Somewhere out of the way," he replied. "Know anyplace like that?"
"Might as well be on Mars," James harrumphed.
"Or Albion," Rhys snarked. Martha gave him a curious look.
Jack looked across at Gwen. "Will," they said as one. "Where does he live?" she asked.
"He moved to the Torchwood Estate a while back, before it was destroyed by Abaddon, but he also had an apartment that only a few, ah, close friends knew about," he told her. His implication was clear who he meant.
"But the Torchwood Estate was blown up?" Martha asked. "What about the people living there?"
"You know as much as I do. We can only hope they made it out," Jack told her.
"Who are you all talking about?" Mickey asked.
"Another of our friend's friends," she told her husband.
"I take it I never met this 'friend', but I'm pretty sure I know who else you're talking about," Gloucester chimed in from the back. "That fat bloke from the Estate, right?"
"He's not fat, he's big boned," Jack smiled even as he wondered why James didn't recall almost running over himself, Will, and the Doctor with his car not too long ago.
"Yeah, you would know," Rhys complained with a smirk as Mickey and James groaned in annoyance.
"Jealous, big guy?" Jack teased back, much to Gwen's amusement at her husband's expense. He almost added that John was the only van occupant he had slept with, but then caught sight of Ianto's doppelganger sitting quietly in the back beside James. "Hey Martha, remind me to ask you for a favor once we get resituated, okay?"
"Okay?" she replied, shrugging at Mickey's questioning look.
Half an hour later, Jack cruised the block where Will Markham had kept his flat. He had let slip that Jack actually owned the building, as one of many various realty investments, so Jack had arranged for the apartment to remain in Will's name once he had moved to the Estate at the Doctor's request.
Once he was convinced there was nobody spying on the place from the street, he parked the van and watched the flat for twenty minutes before he allowed Gwen to approach it. She soon gave the all clear and Jack joined her, quickly picking the lock to enter. The pair quietly entered and began to make sure there were no bugs when the lights flicked on.
"Hello, sweetie," the blonde woman smiled. "I was wondering what was keeping you."
TBC...