A/N: Nothing you recognize belongs to me! The bit of poetry is from "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot. I'm picking Children of Earth on the Third Day, but it's gonna go quite AU from here. Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Old Team
This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Despite the snide remarks that Owen seemed to find mandatory, Ianto Jones was not stupid. Nor was he employed at Torchwood solely to look good in a suit, as Jack Harkness often jokingly implied. He was there largely due to his tenacity and his ability to catch wayward pteradons, but he had been an agent at the now-defunct Torchwood One for years. He was efficient, intelligent, hard working, and discreet. He was also in love with his boss.
It was easy to love Jack Harkness. The man was beautiful, in a purely masculine sense, and dead charming when he wanted to be. It was, however, difficult to know him. He could be laughing and brilliant and ruthless and at times terribly, terribly sad. There were shadows behind his eyes that spoke of old wounds and buried pain.
Ianto Jones was nothing if not practical, and he was far too worldly to believe that he was Jack's first love. The man was centuries, perhaps millennia old, after all. They'd met one of his former lovers when they investigated a series of strange deaths centering on a girl, but then, Jack Harkness was not his first love. He'd been engaged before to another operative, a woman named Lisa—a woman he'd loved totally, enough to hide her beneath Torchwood itself when she was partially converted to a cyberman during the Battle of Canary Wharf.
Ianto was prepared to hear about Jack's previous lovers. After all, he found that talking a bit about Lisa—little things like funny anecdotes or short stories—helped the ache in his chest to recede. Jack had obliged him, told him stories (most of which ended with Jack naked) and little snippets of information about who he was and where he was from.
And then the Earth had been ripped from its orbit and Ianto met them. Well, not met, exactly, more like saw their faces on a computer screen—but he also saw Jack's reaction. There was relief and a little anger, but beneath that a deep, bubbling joy unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Even going to what could very well have been his destruction Jack looked—lighter. Because of the Doctor—the Doctor—and a woman named Rose. Ianto was prepared for a great many things, but he wasn't prepared for the silence that surrounded those two. When he returned Jack said little, only mentioned that they sorted it. Gwen asked about them, and he replied with a hint of a smile that they would meet again.
Jack Harkness knew the alien responsible for the creation of the Torchwood Institute and Ianto had never guessed. It was—unnerving. He'd always been a bit suspicious of Torchwood's obsession with the Doctor. According to UNIT the alien solved more crisis than he created and Brigadier Lethbrige-Stewart appeared to trust him implicitly. Donna did too, which went a long way towards easing Ianto's mind. Besides Jack, Donna Noble was probably Ianto's favorite person. They were both frighteningly organized and he had a feeling that if he hadn't taken on more of an active role in Torchwood they would be competing over who could be the best office manager. As it was, he was frequently in the field and she preferred to stay indoors.
Donna said that they could trust the Doctor. Donna said he was coming. Ianto hoped for all their sakes that she was right.
Jack sat with his back against the wall of the warehouse, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. They had Alice and Steven—his daughter and his grandson. They would kill them if he revealed their plan and the events of so many years ago. He cursed Frobisher. Of all the blind, stupid things to do, he was intent on destroying the one chance that humanity had to beat these things.
No one knew what the aliens actually were. They were referred to as the '456,' the frequency on which their first communications had been broadcast. No one knew that they'd been to Great Britain before, and if the government had its way no one would. Didn't they understand? The aliens had promised they wouldn't return and here they were again. They couldn't be trusted. He wanted to hit the wall, to hit something. Anything was better than just waiting.
Gwen and Ianto watched him covertly. Rhys was snoring on the couch. He wanted to do what the Doctor always did, smile and shrug and put them off with a casual 'I'm always alright,' but they knew him too well for that. Of course, he'd known the Doctor was lying through his teeth, but that didn't stop the alien from trying.
A wind from nowhere upset the stack of papers on the floor and whipped Gwen's hair around her face. A harsh, grinding moan echoed off of the warehouse walls and Jack shot to his feet. A tall, familiar blue shape was materializing in the middle of the vast empty space. Gwen and Rhys (no one could sleep through the TARDIS materializing nearby, not even him) were staring at it, wide-eyed. Ianto was watching with a kind of apprehensive curiosity. Jack moved to stand in front of the door, and waited.
As soon as the TARDIS was fully materialized the door opened and a blond blur barreled into him. He grunted as Rose Tyler wrapped her arms around him in a back-breaking hug. He stood stiffly for a moment but then a shudder seemed to pass through his whole body and he enveloped her in a hug of his own.
The door swung open again and Donna Noble stepped out. Ianto almost went to her, but held back at the last moment. This wasn't the Donna he knew, not yet anyway. Time travel was enough to give anyone a headache, he thought, and especially now. But then he stepped into the room and Ianto was having trouble remembering to breathe.
The last time that Ianto Jones had seen the Doctor he'd been—happy. They had just managed to contact him and he'd been absolutely thrilled, called them all brilliant and nattered on for a moment about how his companions always managed to surprise him. He'd worn this huge, goofy grin and fairly bubbled with enthusiasm.
He was not smiling now. He let the door of the TARDIS swing shut behind him and his long brown overcoat swirled about him in the last gust of the strange wind. He scanned the warehouse, noted exits and possible escape routes. His eyes rested first on Gwen, who shifted as if she wanted to step backwards, but caught herself, then on Rhys, who paled slightly but managed to stare mulishly back, and finally on Ianto. The sheer force of the alien's presence was staggering. His eyes burned with an intensity that was decidedly inhuman, and perhaps just a touch mad. Was he always like this? How did Jack stand it? For that matter, how did Donna and this 'Rose?'
The Doctor moved past Donna, who was introducing herself to Gwen and Rhys, and laid on hand on Jack's shoulder. He raised his head from Rose's neck and looked at the alien with haunted eyes.
"Jack," the Doctor said, the gentleness of his voice at odds with the tension leeching from his body. "What happened?"
Meeting a friend before they knew you was disconcerting, Gwen thought as Donna introduced herself. Because she knew Donna. She and Rhys had been to the other woman's wedding. Hell, Rhys had stood up for Lee, who had no family in the 21st century. But here she was, a year after they'd met, with no idea who any of them were. She had to keep reminding herself not to mention Lee, or the wedding, or the honeymoon, or the fact that both of them worked for Torchwood.
Even more disconcerting was the man, alien, Donna and Jack referred to as 'the Doctor.' The problem was, she decided, that he looked entirely too human—until you met his eyes. Then, it seemed the full force of his personality was let loose and she felt the need to put some distance between the two of them. He was dangerous, probably more dangerous than anything they'd ever faced before (Abaddon included), but he had put the Earth back in orbit and he was friends with Jack, so her sidearm remained in its holster.
Donna was feeling more than a little out of her depth. Gwen and Rhys seemed nice, if quiet, but something traumatic had clearly happened. The man who had to be Captain Jack was clinging to Rose for dear life and that went entirely counter to what she'd heard about him. Ianto introduced himself briefly, but seemed uncomfortable around her for some reason. Actually, they all did. She frowned. This whole situation was starting to get on her nerves.
Jack took a deep breath and nodded. He released Rose and reached out for Ianto's hand. They moved to the couch, recently vacated by Rhys, who stood behind it with Gwen. The Doctor and Rose let Ianto and Jack sit. They stood with Donna in front of the couch with their backs to the burning garbage can that served as a heater for the vast space—not that the warmth spread very far from the source.
His hand wrapped securely around his lover's, Jack Harkness began to speak. He told them about the 456, how they originally contacted the government of Great Britain in the nineteen-sixties, how they offered a cure for a new pandemic flu, how the only payment they wished was twelve children—and how he was largely responsible for surrendering the children to them. His team stared at him in shock.
"You, you just handed them over?" Gwen asked, her eyes wide.
"Yes," he said quietly, unable to meet her eyes.
"Why?" she asked after a long moment. It didn't make any sense. She'd worked with Jack for two years and she couldn't imagine him doing something so wrong. "They were children, for Christ's sake!"
"I know." He released Ianto's hand and covered his face. "God, I know, Gwen." Rose and the Doctor remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "I'm not—I haven't always been the person I am now." He chuckled darkly. "This whole hero bit is pretty recent, actually. I'd been working for Torchwood for sixty-six years, waiting for a version of the Doctor that was in the right timeline, and I was tired." He let his hands fall to his lap and stared at them. "I didn't know why the aliens wanted the kids—didn't want to know anything about it. I just wanted to get the job done and go drink until I didn't remember."
"When did you start caring again?" the Doctor asked quietly.
Jack was silent for a moment. "November of nineteen ninety-one. I was in London for a job and I swung by the Powell estate on a whim, and I saw you and Jackie," he said to Rose with a small smile. "You were four years old. I didn't say hi or anything like that, timelines and all, but it made me think. You would be ashamed of the person I'd become." He smiled bitterly. "God knows I am."
"Oh, Jack," she murmured, and hugged him again. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be. You did what you did out of love. And how much of a compliment is that?" A bit of his usual swagger returned. "You decided that the universe wasn't complete without me in it."
She hit his arm playfully. "Don't go getting a big head now, although…" She glanced around the empty warehouse. "Probably enough room here for you and the Doctor."
"Rude, Rose Tyler," the Doctor chastised, and then turned back to Jack. "What about now? How did this start?"
He told them about his team, how Tosh and Owen died (in Owen's case, twice), how they were looking for replacements, how he thought they'd found another doctor but the man turned out to be a spy, a government plant. When he mentioned the bomb that destroyed the Hub Rose held up a hand.
"Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "They killed you, and then while you were dead they opened you up and put a bomb inside you, and then they closed you up and waited for you to come back and carry that bomb into the Hub before they detonated it."
He nodded. She was shaking, he noted with surprise. He didn't think he'd ever seen Rose so angry before. Her eyes were blazing and her face was set and she was almost incandescent with rage. It was a cliché, he knew, but damn she was hot when she was mad. He was starting to feel a bit more like his old self, if he could have lewd thoughts while talking about being blown up.
The Doctor did not look happy. "And why, pray tell, would they do this?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"No witnesses," Jack replied with a shrug.
"They were willing to kill two—no, three—innocent people just to keep you from talking?" he asked.
Jack nodded. "Will you help us?" He looked up at them with pleading eyes. "We've got some of the software from Torchwood, and some equipment, but it's the four of us against a government that's out for our blood." He exhaled loudly. "I don't like those odds. And," he added. "They've got Alice and Stephen—my daughter and my grandson. I threatened to blow this thing wide open, but if I make a move Frobisher—our former liaison with the government—will have them killed."
"Of course we'll help," the Doctor said.
"When was the last time you ate," Rose asked as she glanced around at them. They looked tired and pale in the flickering light of the trashcan fire.
Jack paused, considering. "I—I'm not sure."
Rose nodded sharply. "That settles it. Into the TARDIS. We could all use a hot meal, I think, to help us plan."
Gwen stopped just inside the doors of the TARDIS and stared. She'd been expecting something futuristic, something with lots of shiny metal and glass, but it looked—organic, almost, like coral. And then there was the slight detail that it was completely and totally impossible for a room that big to be in a box the size of a Police Public Call box. "It's bigger on the inside," she whispered in awe.
The Doctor grinned as he flung his coat over the railing. Rose shook her head, picked the coat up, and hung it on the coat rack. "It is indeed!" he replied brightly. "Now, it'll be probably an hour before we're ready to eat, so why don't you all take a bit of a kip? Haven't had much time to sleep, I daresay." They nodded. "Go straight down that hall," he pointed at a door that hadn't existed a moment ago, "and the rooms on the right side will be empty bedrooms. Jack, you know where your room is." He glared at the man in mock warning. "And don't let me find you in anyone's room but your own, Captain Jack Harkness! We'll be in the kitchen, second right, third left, fifth door on the right—the one with the yellow sun on the door—if you need anything."
There were indeed bedrooms down the hallway, although Gwen was a little nervous about taking one. She felt a presence in the air, like eyes watching her even when there was no one in the room besides her and Rhys. Her husband, of course, had no such feeling and promptly fell asleep. Perhaps a drink of water would help, she thought, and made her way down the hall around the corner, and to the door with the yellow sun painted on it.
It swung open before she could touch it and she jumped, startled. Motion sensors? Automatic doors? She shook her head. It was a strange, strange ship full of strange people—aliens—whatever. She was too tired to be properly amazed at anything now, but a strange kind of nervous energy made her jumpy. Gwen almost stepped into the room, but paused when she caught sight of their hosts. The Doctor was standing by the counter next to the sink with his arms around Rose and his lips pressed against her hair. She was tense and she held him with a fierceness that spoke of incredible distress.
"M so angry," she murmured into his shirt. The suit jacket was gone, presumably so it wouldn't get soiled from cooking. "I can't believe they'd do that." She paused. "That's not true. I can."
"'There is only one way in which one can endure man's inhumanity to man and that is to try, in one's own life, to exemplify man's humanity to man,'" he replied softly. "Alan Paton."
"I want to hurt them," she confessed. "I want to find them and make them pay for what they've done."
"It's only natural," he said after a while. "They hurt someone you care about."
She was silent for a long moment and leaned into him, taking comfort from his presence. "We're going to stop them, right?"
He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Always." Then he stepped back and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "Now, the chicken won't chop itself. I was thinking stir-fry," he said, matter-of-factly.
Rose nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'll start on the veggies."
Gwen watched them for a moment longer. They moved together they way that she and Rhys did sometimes, when they were having a good day. Their actions seemed unconscious, but tempered with an acute awareness of the other person's location and motions. It was so, so domestic. Two people cooking in a ship that was bigger on the inside and traveled through time and space, one of whom was an alien and probably the closest thing to a god she'd ever meet.
This is my life, she thought, and made her way back to the room where Rhys was. Suddenly sleep sounded very attractive.