Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the writers, producers, et al of the television show 'Torchwood'. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, internet persona, or other being, living or dead, is completely coincidental and unintentional unless otherwise noted.

A/N: Today's chapter title is an excerpt from a quote by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; the full quote is, "It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside," and is from The Adventure of the Copper Beeches, found in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Synchronicity

Chapter Thirteen: A More Dreadful Record

20 November, 2006
08:19

Liam walked alongside the blonde girl, glancing over at her from time to time as they made their way through the forest. The scene from the night before kept repeating in small segments in his mind. 'Does Uncle Evan know you hunt on your own, Huw? That you hunt for your own pleasure and not just his?' The double-meaning of the word had conjured up mental images of practices that were just as stomach-twisting as cannibalism. ' That you've never limited yourself to his timetable?' The cold glint of the fluorescent lanterns shining on the utility knife as she traced his face temporarily superimposed itself over a slightly dimmer glint of cloud-diffused sunlight off of the girl's handheld computer. 'What would they say if they knew that despite their tender care, you would much rather play with your food than eat it?' More of those stomach-twisting images flitted through his mind. If he were truly honest with himself, he couldn't fault the girl her single-minded determination to make the man squirm, though he found it unsettling in the extreme. She didn't hit him; didn't cause any physical pain whatsoever. Just touched him, and gently at that. The only physical threat was that bloody knife, and she made sure it was never at an angle to even accidentally scratch him. But he was scared of her anyway. Not that I blame him, but in his case, it was what she said, not the implied threat of what she did. He glanced over at the girl again.

Currently, she was absent-mindedly avoiding roots and trees while focusing on her little handheld computer. She wore a small frown of concentration, and every now and then Liam could hear her mutter a string of quiet syllables he couldn't understand.

"If you've got questions, Liam, ask them," Jenny commented, glancing up from her computer. She gave him an encouraging smile.

"Unnerving," the word leapt from his mouth without first consulting his brain.

Jenny entered one last series of commands into her computer, but didn't put it back in the pouch attached to the back of her belt. "What is?" she asked, leaning against the trunk of a tree.

"You," Liam replied. Honesty is the best policy, isn't it? "Last night."

"What about it?" she asked, still smiling faintly.

Liam let out a sigh, unsure how to phrase what he had been intending to say. He continued towards Brynblaidd. After a half-dozen steps, he heard Jenny catch up. He glanced at her again and found she was fiddling with her computer once more. "What are you doing?"

"Finalizing some composite sketches," Jenny replied. "And… there. I think that'll do it." She punctuated her announcement by hitting a couple of commands on the tiny screen. "Now, I'll send it off to Tosh – she can then forward it to Ianto's mobile."

"Why not send it directly to him yourself?"

"My MPEA can't interface directly with the mobile phone network," Jenny explained. "It's frustrating, but it's a limitation inbuilt to its operational software that's been resistant to… modifications."

Liam sidestepped around a hole in the forest floor – Fox den, his brain couldn't help but notice – and was a touch frustrated himself. World's move on and on from where I left it last. Always hate having to play catch-up, but that's all I've been doing lately. Maybe you should have considered the option of leaving Torchwood, Liam. It's not as though they really need you, not any more. Not with all the brilliant people they already have on hand… the younger and more easily adaptable people. He glanced at the blonde one more time. However, if you left, where else would you get the opportunity to study so unique an individual ever again? And it isn't just the fact that she's – how'd Dr. Harper put it? 'Not local'? Yeah, I think that's right. It isn't just that. She truly is an extraordinary person. "I feel I ought to apologize, Miss Thomas," Liam said as Jenny ducked a low-hanging branch without taking her eyes from her computer.

"Oh? What for?"

"For being a stubborn man set in my ways," he replied.

"Is this about keeping me from helping with that body Jack found yesterday?"

"Partially," Liam admitted. "I couldn't see why you would be a field agent. You…" he cast about, searching for the right words. "You just seem so… young," he concluded, not entirely happy with the word.

Jenny shrugged at him and tucked the computer into its pouch at the back of her belt. "I can't really dispute that. But I don't think that's really what you meant, is it?"

"No," Liam agreed. "I suppose not." He let out a sigh. "I just don't know quite how to phrase what I really mean."

They paused in speaking long enough to climb over a fallen tree. "Well, how about this? You give me a list of all the words that are close to what you mean, and I'll see if I know the one you're looking for?" Jenny offered. "I promise I won't take offense, no matter what words you come up with." She favored him with her best 'trying to help' smile.

"I'm not too sure about that," Liam said. "It's a good idea, yes, but…"

"I promise I won't be offended," Jenny repeated. "There is absolutely nothing you could say I've not heard before, in one translation or another. I bet I can even pick out a few of the words for you."

"Oh?" Liam used a small branch to push a thorny bramble out of the way, then held it aside for the girl. "Feel free to try."

Jenny smirked. "Okay. How close are these: Innocent. Naïve. Inexperienced. Sweet. Guileless. Unsophisticated. Artless –"

"Yeah, you can stop right there," Liam said with a slightly guilty expression.

The girl let out a small laugh. "Like I said, Dr. O'Kelly – I've heard them all before. But here's where they're wrong: Those descriptions only really apply to how I look. More so now than ever before, I think, what with the current cultural influences. The English-speaking portion of twenty-first century Earth, in particular, is less than a century from the common belief that women were incapable of being anything other than mothers. And how I look – blonde hair, blue eyes, small build – coincides with the traits most-commonly used to reinforce those particular personality characteristics in the current media." She paused next to a moss-covered stump. "Those cultural reinforcements are, or so I assume, even more strongly embedded in your mind than they are in, say, Owen or Ianto, because you grew up in one of the more conservative periods of the twentieth century – an era wherein the outmoded ideals of the Victorian age made a resurgence."

"And that doesn't bother you? The general attitude, I mean, not me specifically."

Jenny shook her head. "Nope."

"Might I ask why not?"

"Three reasons," she said as they left the stump behind. "Firstly, those attitudes only really apply to humans. I'm not human, despite the fact that I look like one. Secondly, everyone is entitled to their own opinions – and regardless of what they think of me, I actually know the truth of what I am and am not capable of… mostly. I'll admit that there are some things I've learned recently that I can do that I was previously unaware were possibilities, but I've yet to find something I am incapable of doing. And third and lastly, it's actually to my advantage for people to think me weaker or less intelligent than I really am. It gives me the upper hand." Her eyes drifted out of focus for a moment, and a bright grin crossed her face.

"I take it you've experience in that last," Liam said.

"Yeah," Jenny replied. "Before I got stranded on twenty-first century Earth, I was an andra kain-chu'tarn. Roughly translated, it means a 'freelance adventurer for hire', but more specifically, it meant that I followed the dictates of the Shadow Proclamation – I wouldn't accept jobs that were illegal – with the implication that dangerous missions were desirable. Most of what I did was retrieve stolen property, though there were a few jobs wherein I was the thief."

"And that was legal?"

Jenny wobbled a hand in a 'sorta' motion. "The laws on intellectual property were/will be somewhat… hazy, specifically as they pertain to corporations and businesses. There's a window of opportunity between when a business comes up with an idea and when it's certified as their own property where a skilled individual can abscond with it. It takes months for intellectual property to go through the certification process for a business, but an individual can complete the same process within a matter of days. This individual can then turn around and sell it, either back to the corporation from which it was taken or to a competing business. As long as there's no official paper-trail linking the buyer back to the person who stole the property, it's entirely legal." She chuckled. "On some planets, the entire process is something of a national sport."

Liam couldn't quite grasp the concept of thievery as sport. He set it aside to deal with later. "So, you were a… what did you call it? Andy can chew tern?"

"Andra kain-chu'tarn," Jenny corrected his pronunciation. "But yes. I was. All in all, it wasn't so different from Torchwood, but on a much larger – but simultaneously smaller – scale."

"How so?"

"Well, it was smaller in the sense that I usually worked alone. Most of the time, anyway. The few times I worked someone else, it was always just one other person. The way it was larger was that I had an entire universe in which to play… well, not quite. The thirty-eight galaxies served by the Shadow Proclamation. I tended to stick to the fifteen wherein Galactic Standard was the primary language because my Intergalactic Trade-speak isn't very good." She retrieved her computer and glanced at the screen before returning it to its pouch. "The general level of danger is about the same working for Torchwood, though. Less running, but about the same level of danger."

"I must admit it's difficult for me to imagine," Liam said.

Jenny smirked at him. "Oleander," she said.

"The garden flower?" Liam asked, somewhat puzzled. Jenny nodded. "What about it?"

"It's pretty, but can be deadly, and despite all the variations it possesses in bloom-color, it's still the only member of its genus," she replied. "I thought it might help to have a basis for comparison."

Liam was surprised to find that it did.

"Do they realize we can hear them?" T asked, gesturing to the slightly-uncomfortable communications link he wore hooked over his left ear.

Ianto shrugged, "You eventually get used to it. Besides, what we say is transmitted, too."

Teague grimaced. He hadn't thought of that. So much for seeing if he'd be receptive to dinner and a movie, then. Such a waste of getting paired off by ourselves. He was tempted to give in to a melodramatic sigh, but managed to restrain the urge. Then again, T, you might have just been spared mortification on a near-fatal scale. Yes, Ianto seems to be at least a little curious, but it might just be Captain Flirt he's interested in. And face it, you simply can't compare to Himself. However… A tiny smirk flitted across his face, unseen by Ianto, and T licked his lips. Definitely a pretty picture, the two of them would make. He mentally filed the imaginary image in a permanent 'keep' folder in his brain.

Sitting behind the steering wheel of PC Huw's police vehicle, Ianto once again checked the positions of both Jenny's and Jack's mobile phones on his PDA. "Jack?"

"Yeah?" crackled back over the coms.

"You're getting close to the village. Should we head out?" Ianto asked.

"Not just yet," Jack replied. "Not in a good position. Village's ringed with hills and I've got minimal cover over here. There's a cluster of boulders I'm aiming for on the ridge. Should be there in about fifteen minutes. Liam? Jenny? How close are you two?"

"About ten minutes out," Jenny's voice said. "Satellite photos indicate the tree line stops before that ring of hills you mentioned. I'll let you know when we get that far."

"Copy," Jack said.

Ianto repeated the word, then stretched. He had never been particularly fond of sitting in a car for long periods, but this time didn't seem to be as fundamentally irritating as the car ride the day before had been. I wonder if it's because I'm in the driver's seat? He idly wished for a cup of coffee, but the campfire had been doused shortly after they'd finished breakfast. At least I now know that making coffee in the wilderness is only slightly more complicated than making it at home. It had helped that he'd brought his French press and grind from home when Jack had sent him back after suitable clothes.

If I find that they've buggered off and gotten drunk for the night, I'm gonna kill 'em both and leave their carcasses for the birds. David stepped lightly across the scant layer of grass, barely disturbing it enough to leave a footprint. Damn it, little brother – you did this last time! Just fucked off with a bottle of booze for three straight days, never mind all the work we still need to get done. How fair is it that he's the best we got with a knife other than Da?

A strange noise echoed oddly against exposed sections of rock among the hills. Was that a voice? David froze and waited to see if the noise would repeat. He cupped a hand against his ear to help collect the sound. It is! Faintly, he could hear a man's voice saying, "…There's a cluster of boulders I'm aiming for on the ridge…"

David dropped his hand and went immediately into 'hunting' mode. He'd been prowling these hills all his life and knew all their quirks and idiosynchronicities with the same level of familiarity a ninety year old man had for the home in which he'd lived his entire life. He's off this way. Maybe a hundred yards either side of Whisper Rock. Any farther and the sound wouldn't've bounced back to me.

He moved quickly, but silently – a trait he had developed during the years between Harvests, tracking rabbits and stalking pheasants. In less than five minutes, he could hear the scrape of boots on stone, the thud of their soles hitting grassy areas. He dropped to his stomach and double-checked that his shotgun was loaded.

David slithered to the crest of a low rise and peered around a boulder. A light breeze carried the scent of sickeningly spicy-sweet aftershave to his nose. Heartbeats later, the stranger himself appeared. David grinned and centered his sight on the man's chest.

Breathe in, two, three, and out, two, three. His grin broadened as he pulled the trigger.

The man in the WWII-surplus greatcoat dropped like a stone.

David hurried out from his hiding place and down the short slope to his prey. Ten points, motherfucker. The man's white button-down was a shredded mess of red. Working quickly, David soon had the man's mobile phone and Bluetooth earpiece tossed negligently over his shoulder. The revolver, David tucked in his belt. Anything else interesting? Let's see… Keys, three pounds ten in change. Wallet with… fifty quid in cash. Leather cuff. Shrugging, he pocketed the cash and tossed the rest.

Da should get the coat. I think he'd like it. He struggled a little, but managed to strip the coat off of his kill. David then retrieved his hunting knife from his boot and set about field-dressing the body. If it bled a little more than it should have, David didn't notice.

He whistled while he worked.

"Did you hear that?" T asked. "It sounded like a gunshot."

Ianto frowned and nodded. "Jack? Jenny? Liam?"

Jenny answered first, "I'm fine. So's Liam."

"Jack?" Ianto repeated.

"Captain Harkness?" Teague wanted to help, but he wasn't sure what to do. It's not as though Jenny ever went over 'What to Do When Coms Drop While Hunting Cannibals'.

"Jack!" Ianto nearly shouted. "Come on, Jack. Say something."

And yeah. Woe is me – the cute boy's enamored of the boss. Disappointing. The thought flickered through T's brain before he could stop it. Damn it, T – focus. Crisis developing here.

Jenny had stopped walking when the gunshot had echoed through their coms. Liam hadn't. "Jones!" he barked. "Obviously, if the captain could answer, he would have by now."

Jenny looked back the way they'd come, then at the tree line just ahead. "I hope it's just that his com failed."

"Me, too," T's voice sounded small and forlorn over the link. "What do we do now, though? We can't just call his mobile, can we?"

Jenny shook her head. "No. If he's staying quiet for a reason, the last thing we'd want to do is give away his position." She looked down at her MPEA. "But… I really don't want to think on what it could mean, but his phone hasn't moved since that coulda-been-a-gunshot." Right before her eyes, the dot indicating Jack's phone's GPS marker blinked out of existence. She let out a string of words in Galactic Standard.

"What is it, Jenny?" Ianto managed to wedge the question in when she paused for breath.

"You still got the tracker running on your PDA?"

"Yes, why – oh, for fuck's sake! His phone's gone. Off or broken. Either way, it's safe to assume he's met with some trouble," Ianto's temper was easy to hear.

"Somehow," Liam dryly stated, "that does not surprise me at all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jenny glared at the doctor.

"Just that he seems the type to go looking for trouble," Liam replied.

Before Jenny could get into an argument with Liam over their captain, Ianto broke the tension by saying, "He is. However, in the current circumstances, I think I would have appreciated a little less trouble… What with the cannibals and what have you." He cleared his throat, then said, "Jenny, Liam – you two are about two hundred meters from the village itself. Can you see it yet?"

"No," Liam replied. "But if you give me a minute, I'll climb the rise. You two should start heading this way, but if I were you, I'd park out-of-sight and walk in."

"Okay. Let us know what you see. We'll be in the area in less than five minutes."

Jenny grabbed Liam's wrist as he turned to approach the hill hiding Brynblaidd from sight. "I'll circle around, see if I can't catch up with Jack," she said. "Be careful."

She could see him warring with himself for a long minute before he nodded. "You, too, Miss Thomas."

Jenny rolled her eyes at him. "Just call me Jenny. Please." He gave her a short nod, and she released his wrist. Turning her attention to her MPEA, she activated her perception filter at its maximum setting, then dialed the tread on her boots to their minimum sound level, and then sprinted along just inside the tree line after securing her computer in its holster.

David was glad he'd taken the time to field-dress his kill – it was heavy enough as it was, he didn't want to think about what another twenty-five pounds or so of viscera would do to his back. He kicked the back door instead of knocking. "Mum! Hey! Open the door, wouldja! This is gettin' heavier by the second!"

"Just a moment," his mother replied, sounding slightly exasperated. As promised, the door was flung open after only a short wait. "Did you find Martin and Huw?" she asked, stepping aside.

David shook his head as he carried his trophy across the threshold. "Not yet. Found this fucker," he dropped his burden on the butcher's block island, "and thought I should deal with him first. I guess James hasn't found either of them yet, either?"

"Rather lean, isn't he?" his mother said, prodding a bicep. "Still, better than nothing. And no, James hasn't. Now, you head back out and don't you dare come back without your brother and cousin!"

"What about –"

"Your father and I will tend to it," she said, frog-marching him back out the door. David could hear her holler for his Da as she slammed the door behind him. So much for gratitude. I repeat, little brother – if you and Huw went off on a pub-crawl when there's still work to be done, I'm gonna kill you both myself.

Inside, Helen tied their latest body's wrists together. A moment later, Evan thudded into the kitchen. "What's this, then?" he asked.

"Oh, David brought him in just now," Helen replied. "Awfully lean, though. I think he'd do well mixed in the mince, yes?"

Evan hooked an empty hoist-hook through the ropes tying the body's wrists together, then pulled it up to dangle with the two others he'd not yet gotten to butchering. "Hmm… Likely the best use for him. See I'm gonna need to have words with David again on how we do things, though. Ain't a bloody mark on 'im." He grabbed a plastic sheet and set about wrapping their latest acquisition with it. "The boys find Martin yet? Or Huw?"

"If they had, don't you think I would have said as much?" Helen snapped at him, then took one side of the plastic and held it so Evan could get it secured properly.

Once they were done making sure no stray flies would spoil the meat before they could get it stored, Evan picked up the slightly-messy mound of wool that was left lying on the island. "What's this, then?" he shook it out, then sneered. "Definitely gonna need to have words with the boy. Told him once, I told him a thousand times – we don't keep trophies from our meat!" He tossed the coat into a pile of similarly-bloodstained clothes in the corner of the kitchen.

"If you do that backpacker first, I can get us a fresh roast together for tea," Helen said, moving to the sink to wash the breakfast dishes.

"Sounds like a fine idea," Evan replied, then swung the plastic-wrapped body of a boy over to the island; the kid had tried hiding out in one of the village houses the day before.

Cold metal pressed into the back of Liam's head just as he was about to relay that he'd reached the crest of the hill back to the others. He closed his eyes and raised his hands. He felt someone tug his earpiece off. "Weapons?" a harsh voice asked.

Liam retrieved the sleek little .45 from under his coat and held it by the barrel. It, too, was taken from him. "Any others?" Liam shook his head. "Good. Ever see what a twelve-gauge can do to a skull from this close?" The voice didn't wait for a reply, "That'll be you, mate, if you're lyin' to me. Hear?"

"Yes," Liam said.

"Good-good, now walk," the voice commanded, stressing his point by shoving the barrel of the shotgun a little more firmly against the back of Liam's head. "Big house on the edge of the village, there."

Liam mentally calculated his odds of a successful escape and came up with 'not good'. He walked.

Jenny skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to stop. "No, no, no, no, no," she said, dropping to her knees next to a small pile of discarded items, mostly made of bloodied cloth.

"Jenny?" Ianto said over the com. "We're just coming up to the village now. What'd you find?"

"Jack's stuff," she said, pawing through the pile. "Mobile's shattered. Com's still in one piece, though." She pocketed the com, his Vortex Manipulator, wallet, and the ring of keys. "I think they caught him – his clothes were cut off of him." Her eyes drifted to the side and she saw something that made her throat want to seize shut. "And that's not all they cut off him," she muttered.

"Jenny?" Ianto repeated her name, though his tone told her he was trying very hard not to think too hard on that last bit of information. "Jenny!" he said it like a verbal slap when she didn't reply.

Jenny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah. I'm still here. You two stay out of sight for now. I've got my perception filter running – I'm gonna see what I can see in the village itself. Liam?" There was no reply. "Dr. O'Kelly?" she said his name with more urgency. "Dr. O'Kelly!"

"I think he might've gotten caught," T's voice sounded very small and far away. "Should we call the Hub and have Tosh, Deedee, and Owen come out?"

"It'd take too long," Ianto replied. "Jenny – you said you've got your perception filter on?"

"Yeah," Jenny said. "Maximum setting."

"What's a –" Teague tried to ask.

"Kind of an invisibility cloak," Ianto impatiently answered.

"A what?"

"Note to self – don't try to use Harry Potter explanations with anyone from Belfast," Ianto mumbled to himself. "It makes it so you can't see her, T," he said. "Jenny – you go on and see what you can find. T and I will be about two minutes behind you."

"Be careful," Jenny said, standing.

"You, too," T replied.

She sprinted to the top of the hill blocking her view of Brynblaidd. Looking down, the town wasn't much to see. There was a single long building on one side of the road, with a pub at one end and what looked to be a general store of sorts at the other. The doors between the two businesses didn't sport signs over them, and Jenny thought they had the basic 'individuality' that tended to mark residences. On the other side of the circle where the road doubled-back on itself were a couple of small buildings – two houses, and one that could have been either a defunct petrol station or a garage of sorts. A few hundred meters away from the road proper stood a massive farm house.

Jenny was about to start down the hill when she caught movement on the far side of the valley. She let out a growling noise.

"Jenny?" Ianto's voice crackled over the com.

"Liam's definitely been taken," she said. "I can see him from here – one of those things has him at gunpoint and is taking him to the big farmhouse on the edge of town."

"At least he's alive," T said, sounding relieved.

"And he's gonna stay that way," Jenny said. "Where are you two?"

"We parked the cop car behind the last hill and are walking in. Do you see anyone we need to be worried about?" Ianto asked.

"Not from here. Hang back until I can get to that house." Jenny rushed down the hill and into town, trusting her perception filter to keep her hidden from view. She slowed as she reached the road, then stopped and looked around her. She couldn't hear anyone else in the immediate area. "Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"What was the population of this town supposed to be?" she asked. The village itself had a faintly disused and abandoned feel to it.

"Only fifteen, why?"

"Because it feels abandoned, that's why," she was whispering, though she didn't realize it. "Even with today being a Monday and any kids off at school and the parents off at work, you'd think there'd be someone home. Playing sick, retired, stay-at-home mum. But there's nobody here."

"I don't much like the sound of that," T said. "What of the four we're looking for? I think we can assume one of them is the one who took Liam, but the other three…?"

"I don't see them either," Jenny replied. She tried to shake off the gloomy, suffocating atmosphere of the abandoned village, but didn't have much success. "Can you two check this while I go have a look at the house?"

"Sure," Ianto replied. "We'll be there in a minute or so."

Jenny nodded to herself, then jogged towards the large farmhouse. As she grew closer, she slowed her steps. Faint voices had her creeping around to the rear of the house. Grabbing an empty plastic bucket lying next to a rusting shovel, she carried it to a window that was about six feet from the house's back door. Using the bucket as a step-stool, she peered through grimy glass and saw a dimly-lit kitchen.

The woman she'd seen in both Huw's and Martin's minds – Aunt Helen – was dicing peeled potatoes at a small table on the far side of the room, while the older man from those same memories – Uncle Evan – was methodically chopping steaks. She couldn't tell the age or sex of the victim on the butcher-block island, but she knew it was too small to be Jack, and a small bit of tension released itself. I know he says that he can't die and stay dead, but does that apply to being dismembered? And how, exactly, would that work? Would he just re-grow the bits that got hacked off? Or would he come back in pieces?

She forcibly shoved the macabre thoughts aside. "I have two of them in the house that I can see," she whispered into the com. "Don't… Wait." Another man suddenly appeared – James. Martin's eldest brother – and set a shotgun in a rack near the plastic-covered archway through which he'd arrived. "There's at least three of them in the house."

"I'll go back out in a bit," James said. "I've got the guy I found secured in the cellar. Thought you might want to be the one to find out if he's the last of the strangers in the area, Da, or if there's more out there we need to be looking for."

"Good lad," Evan said. "I'll go down once I'm done with this," he gestured to the carcass he was chopping up. "Your mother mentioned roast for tea."

"Quite," Helen agreed from her place at the kitchen table. "And I've found we've run out of carrots. If you see David, tell him to run to the store and pick some up."

While they carried on their surprisingly mundane conversation, Jenny jumped lightly off her perch and hustled to the corner of the house. "Okay," she said. "There are three in the house, specifically the kitchen, with one more out and about. The one you need to be looking out for is David – he's the third image Tosh should have sent to your phone, Ianto."

"How accurate is this?" Ianto asked.

"As close as I could come," Jenny replied. "Close enough, at any rate. They've got Liam in the cellar. I'm going to see if I can get to him. I'm gonna hafta be quiet, though – my perception filter doesn't work on sound."

"Copy," Ianto said. "We'll work our way to the house. Let us know if you need us."

"Don't worry. I won't hesitate to shout if I have to." With that, Jenny slunk around to the front door. Luck was with her – it was unlocked.

Silently, she twisted the knob and pulled the door open. The hinges let out a faint squeak and she froze, listening intently. "…ought to do it," she heard Evan say.

"Just like last time," Helen agreed to whatever it was they'd been talking about. Jenny's pulse slowed and she silently stepped into the entryway. She waited until one of them said something else before pulling the door most of the way closed in order to hide the squeak of its hinges, then gently latched it behind her.

Tiptoeing across the worn wooden floor, she ignored the staircase leading to the upper portion of the house. A room packed with books was through an archway on her left. A little further along the short hallway there was a door under the stairs on the right and another archway on the left. She could see a short segment of the same yellow wallpaper that had been revealed when Evan had entered the stone-lined kitchen. That likely means the cellar is through the door under the stairs.

Heavy footfalls heading her way halted her progress. She pressed herself against the wall and held her breath. Evan appeared in short order, carrying a battered baseball bat in one hand and a long, slim rod with a bright orange handle in the other. He stopped under the archway to the living room and said, "Shouldn't take long. Wouldn't mind a spot of tea when I'm done." One more step took him to the cellar door. He started to tuck the baseball bat under his other arm in order to open the door, but paused and breathed deeply through his nose.

"Someone's here," he muttered, bringing up the rod. It wound up barely resting against Jenny's stomach. Instinctively, she tightened the muscles, buying her about an inch of space.

"I can smell you," Evan continued, not realizing how close he was. "Something flowery. Soap or perfume. Girly-smelling shit." He clicked something on the handle of the rod, and it let out a zot of electricity from the dual-pronged end nearest Jenny.

She edged backwards from it, gaining a solid six inches. Evan zotted the prod again. "Where are you…?"

Jenny glanced over her shoulder at the door, then back at Evan. He obviously couldn't see her – his eyes were darting all around the hallway, looking for any sign of an intruder. I wonder if I can just yank the cattle prod out of his hand? With him standing in the way, she couldn't get past him and into the cellar. But I don't know how an electric cattle prod actually works. If it's conductive down its entire length… She suppressed a shiver.

Evan zotted the prod twice more in quick succession, before shaking his head. He started to lower the prod and turn back to the cellar. Jenny relaxed.

The floor under her boots creaked noisily.

Evan brought the prod up once again – at the full length of his arm – and hitting the trigger for it as he did so.

The raw electricity burned through Jenny's t-shirt and crackled along her Second Skin, canceling the perception filter.

Evan blinked at her sudden appearance, then grinned at her. He quickly adjusted the rod's position, and zotted her again – this time, its prongs and the lightning they contained hit her just above where her t-shirt and Second Skin fit, in the hollow below her throat, cutting off her words, "No, wait –"

While she was trying to recover, Evan brought up the baseball bat and hit her squarely in the side of her head.

"Jenny?" Ianto said her name with thinly-veiled concern.

Teague couldn't blame him one bit – the last transmission had been cut off, drowned by a squeal of feedback. "Jen?" he added his own query to the broadcast. When they didn't get a reply after several repetitions, T asked, "She was caught, wasn't she?"

"Seems that way," Ianto agreed, retrieving his gun and checking it. He thumbed the safety off.

Teague followed his example. "So," he said. "Dramatic rescue, then?"

Ianto nodded. "Good plan."

They took a chance and ran straight for the farmhouse; it wasn't as daft an idea as it could have been, their position when they'd gotten Jenny's last transmission had them at an angle to the front of the house, and Ianto knew that usually, the kitchen was at the rear. Arriving at their destination, they worked silently around to the rear of the building, then to the only door. They paused and listened.

"…no idea how, only that she just fuckin' appeared, Helen," a gravelly man's voice was saying.

"Funny sort of gun, too," came from another man, though he sounded slightly younger.

"Could she be some sort of MI5, do you think?" a woman's voice asked. "Could they know?"

"Oh, come off it, Helen," the first man said. "They're thick. Never gonna have a clue about our Harvest…"

Ianto ignored the rest of what they were saying. "Gonna kick open the door on a count of three. You take anyone on the left, I'll take the right," he whispered in T's ear.

Teague nodded and brought his gun up.

Ianto took a step back from the door, held up a hand with his index finger extended. The middle finger joined it. Then he dropped his hand and kicked the door.

It broke off its hinges and slammed inwards. T found it suitably impressive, but thought Ianto might have been 'helped' by shoddy construction. He didn't let the thoughts distract him, however.

Ianto crashed into the kitchen and Teague followed on his heels. Five gunshots later, and three of the four cannibals they were looking for were bleeding on the floor. The woman had a single hole in her shoulder – courtesy of Ianto's pistol. The older man had one through his knee from T's gun. And the younger man had one in his gut. The other two shots – both from T's gun – had missed, one slamming harmlessly into the butcher's block, and the other shattering an ancient rotary phone hanging on the wall above the kitchen table.

Calmly, Ianto strode over to the older man and shot him one more time, between the eyes. Next, he moved on to the younger man and gave him the same treatment. Teague leveled his gun at the woman. "We're looking for our friends," he said. "An older man, absurdly tall. Another man, absurdly handsome. And a little blonde girl. Don't try to deny they're here – that's her gun you've got on your table there."

The woman tried to say something, but all that came out was a series of s-sounds. Teague thumbed back the hammer on his gun. "I have no trouble shooting your other shoulder."

"C-c-cellar!" she shouted. "The girl's in the cellar!"

"And the other two?" Ianto asked, coming to stand next to Teague.

"Don't know – James brought a man in. Don't know if he's one you're looking for."

A sudden loudly-indrawn gasp of breath, followed by a string of syllables Ianto recognized as something Jack tended to babble when frustrated beyond all reason came from the corner where a cluster of plastic-wrapped bodies hung from the ceiling. "Get me down from here!"

Teague startled, but tried not to show it. "Jack?" he called out, looking over his shoulder.

He could see one of the bodies was wriggling within its plastic. "Who do you think? Get me outta this crap. My shoulders feel like they're gonna fall off."

Ianto smiled politely at the woman. "Thank you," he said, then put her out of her misery. He thumbed the safety on and returned his gun to his waistband. "Jack, are you alright?" he asked, hurrying to his boss. Teague likewise put his gun away and rushed over to lend a hand.

"No!" Jack shouted, then repeated his demand to be let out of his predicament.

Working together, Ianto and Teague soon had Jack released from the plastic and lowered from the hook. Definitely can't compare to Himself, Teague thought, watching a naked Jack out of the corner of his eye while searching for something he could wear. Ianto beat him to it, however, and came up with Jack's greatcoat – bloodstained and a little worse for wear, but still recognizably the same coat. While Jack shrugged into it, Teague suddenly realized that he'd been hung up with bodies and had to suppress a shiver. I hope they were dead already. Though, from what little Jenny's explained, I suppose suffocation would be a relatively peaceful way to go in this house.

"Where's Liam and Jenny?" Jack asked.

"Cellar, we think," Ianto replied. "Were just about to check when you came-to."

Jack stretched his shoulders, then winced. "Yeah. Never really experienced it before, but it's definitely not high up on my list. All things being equal, I think I'd rather be shot." He ran a hand down the line of his abdomen.

"Huh?" Teague was slightly confused, though he could tell Ianto didn't share in that confusion.

Jack grimaced a little, "Though, I suppose to be technically accurate, I was shot first. The evisceration was before I revived from that."

"You gonna be alright?" Ianto asked, either not noticing or ignoring Teague's confusion.

"Always am," Jack replied. "I take it from your lack of reaction that Owen talked to you?" he said, picking his way across the kitchen.

"And to Tosh," Ianto confirmed, following Jack. They reached the plastic-covered arch and Ianto laid a hand on Jack's shoulder. "T and I will find Jenny and Liam," he said. "How about you find something more than your coat to wear?"

"What happened to my stuff?"

Ianto shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. Think Jenny might've found it, but we need to find her in order to ask her." He pointed to the kitchen table. "Sit."

"Fine," Jack huffed, sounding a bit like an exasperated teen. "Leave me a gun, though."

Ianto leveled a pointed look at T. Teague sighed and handed over his .45. "If what Jenny told us was accurate, there's still one more out there," he said.

Three hours later, the Torchwood team stood on the rise that circled the village and watched as the entire town burned merrily into ash. Jenny and Liam had been released from the cellar without incident, and everyone's possessions had been returned. Liam and Ianto had torn down their campsite and returned in one piece. Jack had changed into his spare clothes. And then they had taken a detailed survey of the village and the contents of the house's freezer and kitchen – in addition to the seventeen people Jack had counted among the missing persons reports, there were at least eleven more recent victims.

Halfway through the survey, the final member of the family that had been preying on people for generations had arrived. Wasting no effort, Jenny had unceremoniously shot him in the back with her neutron pistol – it made no noise whatsoever, and the only indication that it hit what it'd been aimed at was when the target froze in his steps. A second shot was a touch more obvious in that the organic makeup of the target shattered into a cloud of dust, leaving behind a pair of synthetic-leather boots, a belt-buckle, some buttons and a zipper, and Jack's Webley. Jenny's punishment for this act was to clean Jack's gun – organic dust was hell on a revolver.

And now, with flames erasing Brynblaidd, Jenny pulled her canvas coat tighter around herself. "I don't think I like camping," she said.

Teague wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, deirfiúr bheag. Normally, camping's more to do with pretty scenery and less to do with cannibals."*

Ianto gestured to the burning town. "Isn't this, well… overkill, sir?" Ianto asked of Jack.

Jack shook his head. "Nope," he said, popping the P. "Not at all. I'm tempted to come back after it cools off and sow the ground with salt."

"Don't forget," Liam added, his face still unreadable to Jack, "you'll need to post warning signs, too. 'Here there be monsters'."

A/N2: As far as Jack's immortality is concerned, I've always figured that the more damage he suffered, the longer it took for him to return from the dead (the exception being the thing with Abaddon, which wasn't physical damage and so followed other rules). Likewise, it'd take longer to come back from successive deaths within a short period of time (like with the Cyberwoman) than if it had only been just one death. Just so y'all know where I'm coming from, of course.

*And, according to the interwebz, 'deirfiúr bheag' is Irish for 'little sister'. Let me know if there's a better term out there. Thanks in advance.