Hi everyone! Sorry I haven't been able to update until now (dial-up connection only over here, sadly, and we tend to need the phone line), but this chapter is pretty long and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. If you thought I was finished throwing in plot twists, you're sorely mistaken! I've actually finished writing Reverse in longhand (I've yet to type it up), and it's 18 chapters long (though the final chapter might be a little shorter than the others). It's a lot shorter than I thought it would be, because it's only just longer than Fourteen. Except then I thought about it and realised that they're both meant to be roughly the same length, as they're an episode each. So the rest of the episodes will likely be between 15 and 20 chapters long.

I've also written the first chapter and a half of the next episode, Closing Time, and I'm not quite sure what's going to happen with that one, because there are now two main plots rather than one. One is the usual plot-plot, with aliens and whatnot, and the other is more of a character-plot, which makes me smile, and will be further developed as the series progresses. One thing that you will notice is that I tend to leave one or two loose threads – chances are, I haven't forgotten, and they'll be picked up in a later episode (never think that you've seen the last of Holly Frobisher, for instance).

The character-plot that I mentioned is very much to do with the new medic, because I just couldn't hold out on him until next season. ZedPM was right when she guessed that it wouldn't be an OC. Like Anna and Lois, it's going to be one of those characters that I just pick up and attempt to base on a few seconds of screentime. Except that, in this case, it's not a character from the TV show, but from the books. And I accept that most of you won't have read about this character (he's underdeveloped in the book anyway), so I will be making an effort to introduce him as best I can. Suffice to say it will be...memorable. XD

Hope you enjoy the chapter, and please review! Also, a quick shoutout to the Muse Bunny community - I haven't had much of a chance to check it out yet (stupid dial-up), but anybody who talent-scouts on FFN is brilliant in my book. =D


James gripped the bridge of his nose firmly with his fingers. It was something he had been taught to do in case of a nosebleed, and it later evolved into an obscure habit – something that he did to aid his concentration.

He had never gripped it so tightly as he did now; he might even cause a nosebleed if he wasn't careful. It was dark, and he was – well, not entirely sure of his own mind. Not drunk, but certainly past tipsy. He had been out longer than expected, and in the darkness and the haze of his current mental state, all of the houses along the terrace looked very much the same.

He found it eventually, though. Fumbling with his key, he managed to unlock the back door and stumble into the kitchen, where he splashed his face with cold water until he became confidently aware of his surroundings. With any luck, he would avoid too much of a hangover the following morning.

It was then, however, that the digital clock above the cooker came to his attention, and he realised that it was already the following morning. With a forlorn sigh, he headed up the stairs towards his room, noticing as he passed that his younger brother's door was ajar, and the light still on. Kit shouldn't be up at such an hour; perhaps he had been disturbed by another nightmare. James wouldn't have been surprised. It was a remarkable night when he went without one. James pushed the door further open, and stepped inside.

"Kit, you okay?"

The room was empty – untouched, as though frozen in time, though James barely had the time to register this, as it was at this moment that all hell broke loose downstairs.

"You could have just knocked," said Ianto, glancing at the mess that Jack had made of the front door.

Jack shrugged, not looking sorry in the least. He'd expected it to just crash open, maybe snap off the hinges. He hadn't expected it to be such a flimsy piece of wood that it would splinter beneath his boot, but then, none of the houses on the tiny terrace seemed particularly up to date. Period structures, probably built in the property boom of the 20s and never renovated by the council. Typical. And also not his fault. "Reprimand me later, we have a job to do."

Ianto scowled, but nevertheless followed the Captain into the hallway without another word. He guessed that all chance of a polite house call had been ruined, but Jack never had been one for the rulebook. There hadn't been any shouts from upstairs, but that didn't mean that nobody was home (at this time of night, where else would they be?), and Ianto went through each doorway half-expecting somebody to leap out with a baseball bat. Horror movies and previous cases listed in the archives told him that keeping baseball bats under the bed was common (which surprised him, given that this was Wales – surely baseball bats were more of an American thing), not that he kept one there himself. There was little point, considering he kept his Torchwood-issued gun to hand most of the time, and also spent relatively few hours actually in his apartment. He had been doing recently, actually, while the Hub was being rebuilt, but other than that, he was at work more often than he was at home (partly because of Torchwood, but mostly because of Jack).

He entered the kitchen, scanning the darkness for any sort of movement. Nothing. The back door still had a key in it, though, suggesting that there was definitely somebody home, and the fridge was humming rather loudly. The knob on the cupboard nearest the door was broken off, revealing a loose screw underneath, but other than that, it was in a decent state. There was no visible dishwasher, but nor were there any visible dishes. Strange.

A snap of fingers from behind made Ianto jump. He turned to see Jack grinning at his apparent fear, and gesturing towards the staircase. The pair of them made their way up slowly, sticking close to the wall as they climbed the steps. Jack had his Webley cocked, just in case. Ianto had his own gun out as well, though he was too over-cautious of his twitchy fingers near the trigger to have the safety unlocked just yet.

Halfway up the staircase, Jack stopped abruptly and turned to Ianto, hissing in his ear. "Seriously, what kind of people do you know that answer the door at two in the morning, anyway?"

"Sane people who don't work for Torchwood, and thus aren't busy breaking into other people's houses at the time," Ianto retorted, his voice equally low.

A figure regarded them from the top of the stairs. "Who are you?" His arms were tightly folded, and it was clear he was attempting to seem intimidating, though the nervous twitch of his eyes gave away his fear, and the effect was somewhat lost on the two members of Torchwood. Poor kid probably thought he was being robbed, Ianto mused. Admirable bravery in confronting them. Just not a great idea when both of the intruders were armed.

Jack, however, had realised what Ianto had not – that the boy's face was near identical to Kit's. There was perhaps an inch or two difference in height, but other than that, and the colour of their hair, they might have been twins. Or clones. It was a sign of the bizarre encounters that Torchwood had that Jack considered the latter option the likelier of the two. "James Harman, I presume?" He raised an eyebrow and lowered his gun, instead choosing to swagger forward with a hand outstretched.

Mistake. As soon as he was close enough, James struck out, delivering a powerful kick to Jack's shin and running like lightning across the upper floor. The blow caused Jack to lose balance, crashing into Ianto below him – luckily, Ianto caught hold of the banister before they had fallen too far. Jack was up again in seconds; Ianto took a little longer.

There was no sign of the boy when they reached the upper landing. Ianto sidled carefully along it, eyes darting in every direction as though expecting another attack. Sweat glistened on the grip of his gun, and on his forehead. He carefully flicked the safety catch off.

Jack, on the other hand, was as reckless as ever. He wasted no time in kicking down a few other doors in an attempt to locate the young man – the attack had been largely unprovoked, but it had been defensive and was probably just an effort to buy time. And if that was the case, then in his panic, he probably would have taken the nearest exit. "Gotcha," Jack muttered. "Ianto!"

Ianto came running over, throwing glances across his shoulder every now and again – still on red alert. Then he saw what Jack had found – a window, thrust open into the darkness. A small window. "We're not going to fit through that."

"No," Jack said. "We're not."

Somebody cleared their throat loudly over the com system. "You boys having trouble?" she asked sweetly. "You know, I assumed the purpose of these was so that we could keep in touch, so an update every so often wouldn't go amiss."

"We lost the half-brother through a window," Jack confessed, sounding bitter.

"I sort of guessed that," Lois replied. "Seeing as he's currently sprawled unconscious on the pavement here by the car."

Jack's face broke into a grin. "Lois Habiba, I could kiss you right now." In fact, he kissed the air next to the microphone by his ear. "You deserve a raise for skilful subjugation."

This made Ianto smile, as he knew that Jack had no control over their paychecks – something to do with Whitehall, though the archives were decidedly vague about the matter – but it was nothing compared to the grin that he wore when Lois' next response came through.

"Well, thank you, Captain. But you know, he actually just ran headfirst into the car. It's pretty dark out here, I don't think he saw it."

"Then you deserve a raise for skilful parking. Enough to repair the damage, anyway," Jack answered smoothly. "And we'll be careful on our way down, unless you want a couple more dents in the bodywork."

They heard her laugh, followed by a clatter off to their right. The master bedroom – the only door that remained standing. With silent gestures, Jack ordered Ianto to cover him. He leaned closer to the closed door, ears straining to hear what was happening on the other side. The sounds were tiny – inhuman, almost. Like pins being dropped on the floor in the rhythm of footsteps.

Jack nodded at Ianto, and together they stormed into the room, guns held high.

The person that awaited them, Ianto thought, was unlikely to be the mother – because, as far as he knew, it was a man. He stood in a pinstripe suit not dissimilar to Ianto's own, though the shirt was not as neatly pressed, and he wore a cravat rather than a tie.

"My, my, Jack. You and your team rather do seem to enjoy pointing guns at me." Bilis Manger smiled.