Jack's laughter floated down from the brook and Daine felt herself smiling.
He worries too much, Red told her from the distance. He is too tense. I think it is time he should laugh, don't you? And his clothing smells.
Daine chuckled.
"What is it?" Numair asked, taking a seat and beginning to skin the rabbit Jack had given him.
"Red has a sense of humor, that's all," she replied, grinning but averting her eyes from the mess Numair was making of the meat. Just because she couldn't eat it didn't mean that she would prevent everyone she loved from enjoying meat; as Jack had said, they couldn't help what they are, even if it did make her a little queasy.
Red is sentimental, Cloud muttered dryly, coming up behind her, close enough to huff a breath on Daine's hair.
That's not a bad thing, Daine admonished her pony.
No, Cloud agreed, It's not. But he's buying you time: ask Alanna about George's bargain. The pony nudged Daine's shoulder. Go on. Daine nodded, sighing regretfully. The horses had been around her too long; they were thinking like two-leggers, planning and scheming.
"Alanna—" she started, looking questioningly back at her friend.
"George made a bargain with Gainel," the Lioness said, beckoning Numair over after she had tied the weevils to another tree. "I think you should know what it is."
"Why won't you tell Jack?" Numair asked quietly. He set the half-skinned rabbit down to give Alanna his full attention.
"Because he's Seen Jack's Ianto," Alanna told him matter-of-factly, and Numair stared at her, eyes widening. Daine's breath caught. She remembered Jack shouting furiously to Gainel about a dream, and she remembered the broken look on Jack's face when the Graveyard Hag had tried to use Ianto as a bargaining piece. Ianto Jones was Jack's very obvious weak spot, and if Gainel had made a bargain concerning the man, Jack's heart was liable to get trampled in the process.
"What's the bargain?" Daine asked, dreading the answer on behalf of her friend.
"Gainel thinks that Ianto will be able to help us find the Guardian," Alanna replied. "Ianto's met up with—well, he's met up with your Stormwing, Daine. Rikash."
Daine blinked at her, shocked. Rikash had died only recently, and the hurt was still fresh. "He was never mine," she whispered, eyes dropping, and Numair laid a supportive hand on her shoulder.
"He was a good friend to us," he murmured. "What are they doing there? Shouldn't they be in the Realms of the Dead?"
"The Realms of the Dead have no place for an Immortal," George croaked, and they all looked at him. The Baron cleared his throat, stretching out his legs, which had been crossed as he meditated. "And Jack's world has no realms for their dead at all. They're both between realms. It's just darkness." He shivered a little. Alanna went over to him.
"Are you alright?" she asked, crouching next to him and curling an arm affectionately around his shoulder. George nodded, offering her a brief smile.
"That's—horrible," Daine whispered. Numair brought a water skin over and offered it to George, who drank appreciatively.
"How can a dead man and a Stormwing help us find the Guardian?" the mage asked, voice quiet and practical. Jack's laughter suddenly echoed from the stream as scolded Red for something.
"They're nowhere," George explained quietly. "The spaces between realms."
"If I were going to hide a god," Alanna put in, "I would hide him there."
Daine and Numair glanced at each other. "We have to tell Jack," Daine said flatly. "We can't keep something like this from him."
"I know," Alanna told her. "I don't plan to. But I wasn't going to give him half the story, especially for something this important – George still had to work out his bargain with Gainel."
"Don't worry," George said grimly. "Gainel said he wants to take care of it. He's got a contact."
"What?" Numair asked, looking confused.
"Owen Harper," Daine supplied slowly. "He visits Jack in his dreams. Is that really wise?"
George nodded. "Aye, that's the one. His Worship says that Jack'd trust that man far more than any of us, dead or not. How did you come to know about it, lass?"
"After the Nepthalae," Daine whispered, eyes dropping. "I found out."
"I don't really like that, George," Alanna murmured. "Jack might like it better coming from us."
"Rogue though I may be, love," George replied darkly, "I'd rather not argue directly with the plans of gods."
Daine, Red warned, just as they heard Jack crashing through the trees.
"Daine, you tell Red that he is a pain in the ass!" he cried merrily, wearing a clean pair of breeches, but carrying the old pair as well as a sodden shirt on his arm.
And you tell Jack that I am not a donkey, Red told her, eyes twinkling with amusement. Daine laughed, her unease from the previous conversation ducking away at the sight of Jack and Red.
"Red says that he's not a donkey," she translated, and Jack chuckled.
"He would," her friend said, slapping the horse's neck. "Right, brook's free; it's your turn." Jack's blue eyes landed on the half-skinned carcass that Daine was very carefully not looking at. "Has anyone skinned my rabbit, or do I have to do that again?" he asked, exasperated but good humored. It jarred a little; Daine hid a small sigh, feeling guilty for keeping secrets.
"I'll do it," Alanna replied easily, picking up where Numair left off. "Numair, you smell of dirt."
The mage huffed indignantly and stood. He arched an eyebrow to Daine before striding with purpose to the trees. Daine snickered and followed him. "It's hardly your fault," she teased, catching up to her mage. Numair regarded her with gleaming eyes as they stepped out onto the rocks around the brook.
"No, I rather think it's yours," he said, arms curling around her waist. Daine grinned and leaned against him, enjoying the wicked glee in his eyes. His arms tightened around her and just when she thought he'd kiss her, he swung her around and she shrieked with surprise. Numair laughed brightly, kissed her nose and then dumped her unceremoniously intro the brook, clothes and all.
-Owen Harper.—
"What can I do for you, m'lord?" Owen's voice was scornful and he leaned casually against the autopsy table.
Torchwood Three was not just Jack's dream world. Owen rather preferred it himself, although his afterlife was spent in the Realms of the Dead, which turned out to be a rather nice place. There was a little city, and this bar. It was a bit disheartening to know that death was so much like life, except without change, but to be frank, it certainly beat the darkness. Anything beat the darkness when you got right down to it.
Even still, whenever Gainel came to tell him something, Owen found himself here or at his desk behind the medical room. He walked around the autopsy table, looking up at the god, standing on the stairwell. Gainel looked extremely out of place in the rag-tag, stained Torchwood autopsy bay, there on the stairs with his dark eyes, shoulders shrouded in a dark coat. He looked every inch a god.
-I found Ianto Jones.— It took a second for the words to sink in, but when they did Owen fought the brief surge of surprise and, embarrassingly enough, delight.
His relationship with Ianto had been an odd one, filled with fierce sniping back and forth. Yet they'd had a sort of kinship, in a weird, I-bloody-hate-you way, and Owen had been saddened when Gainel had told him of Ianto's demise.
"That's nice," Owen replied dryly, crushing the strange joy he felt into a fine powder before metaphorically smoking it. "Shall I tell Jack, then?" Lover boy would be absolutely delighted, he thought wryly, and then a terrifying thought suddenly occurred to him. He paused. "You're not going to send me back into the darkness, are you?"
Gainel chuckled gently, and touched Owen's chin affectionately. Owen scowled and jerked away. Bloody weird gods did not belong in his personal space, thank you very much!
-No. I bargained with you, little spitfire.—
"I keep telling you not to call me that," Owen grumbled, but Gainel only laughed. Owen had learned by now that it was useless to argue with him. You couldn't win an argument with the bloody Dream King. It got very surreal very quickly and it just wasn't worth it; Owen didn't need the acid trip.
"Right, okay, so what do you want me to do?" he asked hurriedly. This whole servile thing wasn't for him, not really, but choices were choices, and the afterlife in Tortall was much, much more pleasant than the afterlife at home.
-Ianto Jones and his little band exist out of my jurisdiction,- Gainel explained, and Owen had to suppress a snicker at the thought of the tea boy in a band. Would he be the lead singer? That was a laugh. –I cannot go where he is. You, however, can. I need you to speak with him.—
Owen felt another flash of fear. "Into the darkness?" he whispered and then his voice rose indignantly. "You said you weren't going to send me there!"
-Just the once, Owen,- the Dream God soothed and Owen scowled. –Teach him to stride through dreams, and then you can speak with him in my realms. I'm sure he would appreciate the change of scenery.—
Owen bit his lip. "How do I find my way back?" he asked nervously.
-I will guide you. Do not worry; I will not let you get lost.—
It was a comfort, but a cold one. The thought of that darkness sent chills up Owen's nonexistent spine.
Still. Owen had his pride, and he was a Torchwood Operative. He'd seen some pretty nasty stuff in his time; he'd challenged Death and become the king of the bloody weevils. He could handle a little darkness, right?
Right.
"Okay," he said. "Teach him to go through dreams. Right. Anything else?"
-Perhaps you should know that he travels with a Stormwing called Rikash, and another Torchwood agent called Toshiko Sato.—
"He travels with who?" Owen yelped, but the med room was slowly darkening, and Gainel was disappearing.
"Hold on, Gainel, mate, wait!" Owen cried, but the world became darkness and nothing else. Owen took a deep, steadying breath, not that he needed it.
"Right," he said to no one and nothing, "Right. Okay. I can do this. Light." A burning globe sprung to existence by his head and he scowled at it, beginning to walk to nowhere. "Bloody unhelpful gods," he muttered sourly, and then took a breath.
"Ianto!" Owen shouted into the darkness. "Ianto Jones! Ianto!"
"My son, Lord Mithros." The voice was feminine and smooth, somehow the essence of light and heat. "Your Father is very ill."
Mithros, God of Sun and Shield, stood in soft darkness. It was not the dark of the dead space; instead it twinkled with distant stars, although they did not provide nearly enough light. "Mother?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"Your Father's Guardian, as you know, has gone missing. You remember how urgently I spoke to you about getting him back." The stars twinkled brightly, but not merrily – there was anger in the light that shown from the distance.
"We are doing all we can, Mother," Mithros replied respectfully. "The immortal Jack Harkness—"
"Who jars upon my very senses," Mother Flame snapped, her voice firm. "The Bad Wolf scalds your Father in his defense. She broke the barrier so that man could come in, Time only knows why. Your Father and I cannot touch him."
"And so he may cross into any realm but that of the dead," Mithros explained patiently. "Realms of Dream and Chaos and even Divine open before him, because he cannot die. He comes from beyond Father Universe; he knows of things that we can barely dream of. He can close the gap, Mother. He helped create it, after all."
"He does not destroy those that you tell him to destroy," Mother Flame said, voice low, almost a snarl. "And his defender harms us all."
Mithros growled. "He is unruly. My brother Mynoss still believes that he will listen."
"Father Universe grows weak."
Mithros frowned. "But the stain is very small," he said. "Only one kind, no more than forty—"
"And do you not wonder how those forty got here?" came the sharp response. "Each move they make tears into him more, and your sister, my son, takes advantage!"
"Uusoae," Mithros said flatly. "You imprisoned her in a cage of dead matter and star fire until the next star is born, for her interference in the mortal world," he reminded her.
"Indeed. However, it seems that she does not respect her parents. She has taken advantage of her father's illness; I fear that cage may not hold. She will be punished most harshly if she leaves her own realms, of course. She disrespects us. I wish you to be on the lookout for her, my son."
Mithros nodded. "I will tell my brothers and sisters so. Is there anything else we can do for Father?"
"No. The Lone Wolf must do his duty, or he will not be accepted here."
Mithros bowed to his mother. "We will goad him, Mother, as best we can."
Bum bum bum…. The plot thickens! Or, you know, something. Next chapter on Friday/Saturday or if I randomly have time in the middle of the week (unlikely). Please leave a review!