Torchwood: Divergence
Book One: Dychwelyd

Chapter 14

Half-Five in the morning found both Jack and Ianto up, showered, and dressed after a memorable night of 'dabbling' and beyond. The elder of the pair rarely slept for more than an hour or two at a time and had done since his first resurrection on the Game Station. The younger was discovering that his now fully acknowledged Changeling physiology really only needed about two hours of actual sleep in every twenty-four, barring serious injury or psychological trauma. And there were some other interesting facts he was now aware of since having all his memories returned, and allowing both mind and body to accept the alien side of his new life.

"There are a couple of bumps in this road I'm travelling now," Ianto warned as he handed his partner a fresh cup of strong coffee. "For one thing, I won't heal as scary fast as I was in the 'shell shocked' stage. The Scieron had everything cranked to maximum and were boosting it by proxy after they brought me through the portal, to safeguard me until they could test our commitment to one another and see the Pledge made. It'll be more along your lines now that I'm fully aware of what I let them turn me into, why I'm here, plus they've returned to Hell. I'll heal at an extremely accelerated rate compared to someone like Gwen or Rhys, but might still need bandaging or sutures at first if the damage is severe enough, and missing limbs will likely take a couple of days to regenerate."

"What if it's enough trauma to kill you?" Jack pressed, still not able to shake that nagging worry. "What if a Weevil rips your entire throat out, or something pulls a leg off and ruptures your femoral artery, or you get blown apart in a blast from an alien weapon self-destructing?"

"The Scieron exist outside of our realms of Space and Time," Ianto reassured quietly, contentedly sipping his own coffee as they moved down to sit on the couch. "If I take enough damage to stop or destroy my heart, they'll be waiting in the Dark at the threshold of Death's Door to bring me back. And depending on the damage, either they or the Shadows in my cells will be returning my body to the state it's in right now, so I'll be whole and fit again when life rekindles in it."

"So, they really did find an alternative way to make you just like me," Harkness stated, shaking his head sadly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy to have you back, and the idea of being with someone who won't ever leave me is fantastic. But I would never wish my particular state of being on anyone... let alone someone I care so much about."

"I've known for a long time that it can really suck to be you, Jack," Ianto countered evenly. "And I won't say there may not be a time when I feel that same urge to say 'enough' that you've told me about. But if it means I can stay with you forever and maybe make the time more bearable for you, it's worth the occasional bad day."

"I hope you don't change your mind fifty years down the line," the older brunette sighed, but his eyes said how much he appreciated the positive outlook and obvious devotion.

"I think we'll be too busy most of the time for me to complain about enforced longevity," Jones murmured with a slight frown. "And we may be gearing up for some long days even now. Apparently the Scieron's presence on our plane, even in the form of a building portal, but especially when they themselves are hanging about in the ether watching, it somehow blocks the Rift. Maybe because they're a race of Vortex and Void dwellers on the order of the one that fixed things after the Undertaker's Gift went off. Now that the portal's closed, and they've well and truly returned to their native space though, things will start coming through again... maybe a lot at once, since it was bottle-necked for over a month."

"Ah, always the bad with the good," the Captain nodded, actually looking forward to getting back to what he considered a 'normal work day'. "Speaking of the portal they created to bring you through, why did it start in London but finish in Cardiff? And what is it they call you in Welsh? 'Frân Arian'? Why does a race of Vortex Dwellers use Welsh at all?"

"The portal actually started both places at once, but it took a while for anyone to notice it in the graveyard," Ianto explained, his eyes shadowed with the slightly haunted look that had plagued him more and more since they'd lost Tosh and Owen. "The emotional echo of my death and your wish to join me were still really strong around the MI5 building. They used it to help fuel the larger portal in Cardiff. The plan had been to create it as close to the Hub as possible, but the site needed to be basically undisturbed while the blood path formed, and they needed compatible emotional feedback. So the gate was actually opened in the old Victorian part of the graveyard on the north-northeast side of town in Cathays, over toward where the Black House used to be. Once a stable connection to Hell was made at that site, the fuel source in London was shut down."

"So how did Team Torchwood get you from there to here?" Jack was asking, just as the main door rotated open to admit a carry-bag burdened Gwen Cooper.

"Box truck," she supplied helpfully as she approached the couch. "Andy took Rhys by Harwood's for one of the company vehicles and some tarps. It was pouring rain by the time we got poor, stark naked Ianto and his wings into it, then everyone came back to the Hub. Rhys played prop while the rest of us posted tarps with the SUV and Torchwood van blocking things from public view, so we could get Ianto inside with the lift. Andy told the few curious passers-by, that it was emergency maintenance on the fountain. We had quite the time trying to mop all the blood off Ianto and his wings even after the rain."

The raven-haired woman put the totes down on the low table near the couch, then squarely met the gaze of the younger man sitting there.

"Do we have the old Ianto Jones back 100% now?" Cooper asked hopefully.

"With a few changes and minus my own wardrobe," the young Archivist qualified his answer. "But otherwise, I finally feel like me again."

"Yes, you do," Jack added with a wolfish grin, laughing when his partner smiled shyly and blushed.

"Brilliant," Gwen chuckled, briefly wondering what the pair had been up to before her arrival. "Then you'll really appreciate the special breakfast I brought."

She began busily unpacking the bags, laying out several immediately recognisable boxes from a bakery across town that always opened at 5:00 am during the week. Both men knew what was inside... rich, dense pastries that were the perfect combination of cake and biscuit without being too cloyingly sweet. Tosh had always called them 'little slices of love', while Owen preferred to use his own less flattering descriptive of 'gout grenades'. Jack and Ianto had of course been firmly on Toshiko's side, along with Gwen and apparently Rhys.

"Ginger, cranberry-orange, almond, black and whites, and pumpkin old fashioned with red currants," Cooper announced, pointing out each box in turn before reaching back into the bag. "Honey cream to smear the lot, and just for you, Ianto... one of their individual fruit and custard tarts with chocolate drizzle. Plums, blackberries, blood oranges, and currants, minus the kiwi so you don't have to pick it off."

"If you wanted a coffee, all you had to do was ask," the Scieron Changeling stated evenly, a smile fighting to win free as his eyes sparkled happily. "But the bribery is good... well done. I'd say this will likely get you a morning cup and automatic refills for the day."

"Oh, sit down and shut it," Gwen laughed as the young man started to rise, setting out paper plates and plastic utensils with a stack of serviettes. "As long as it's in the side pot, I can get my own coffee, thank you. Just consider this your 'Welcome Home', yeah? Because you are most definitely acting like the Ianto Jones I remember. Go ahead and tuck in before the horde arrives, and while the goodies are still warm."

She headed for the kitchenette, glancing at one of the workstations on the way by and pausing to see what the blinking pop-up display on it said.

"Did one of you set up an Archive search?" Cooper queried, continuing on to get some coffee.

"Guilty," Ianto called, starting to get up and go check the results.

"Well, it says 'no matches to entered criteria'," his friend warned as she moved back toward the couch with her favourite mug in hand.

"Why am I not surprised," Jones sighed, reclaiming his seat and opening the box of the special treat he'd been presented with. "Would you be up to a field trip today, Jack?"

"Storage?" Harkness queried, snagging a cranberry-orange confection from its box and reaching for the honey cream.

"My shoes should still fit if nothing else does," his partner nodded. "Which is good, because no self-respecting shop keeper is going to let me beyond the front doors in bare feet, and I need to look into getting some new clothes soon. I think I've managed to blood stain or otherwise damage more than enough of yours already, though I appreciate the loan. Luckily, I'd found an affordable tailor before things went to hell in London. Hopefully he's still in business."

"We can swing by that tailor while we're out," Jack suggested, happily devouring his chosen pastry. "See if he has anything on the racks that will do till he can get some suits made to fit your new super-svelte figure. 'Cause honestly, I don't think you'll have much luck with proper fit at a department store now."

"Perfect," Ianto smiled, saluting first his lover then Gwen with the fruit tart before applying a fork to it. "Oh, and the Welsh is likely from me. I dreamed of my Nain, Hafwyn Llewellyn, several times, she's who taught me and I think they could tell it sort of comforted me, so they started using it. 'Frân Arian' means Silver Crow, don't know why the Scieron call me that though. However, I do know the answer to the weight riddle now."

"Which is?" both of his companions prodded at once.

"The Scieron cells in my body replaced a certain amount of tissue and its corresponding mass, but not the weight of that mass because they're technically just bits of 'Other-Dimensional Shadow'," Jones explained with a shrug. "So, it maintains my body in this 2% fat to 98% muscle ratio, but reduces my actual weight by 15% or so, all of which are optimal to produce the strength and speed for efficient fighting, and are actually required for flying."

"Meaning that no matter what or how much you eat, you'll never gain an ounce," Cooper frowned, glancing down at her own midriff. "That is so unfair."

"But comes at a mighty painful price," Harkness pointed out solemnly, then smiled. "Besides, I think Rhys prefers a woman with a little substance. And you'll be getting plenty of exercise soon enough."

"Do tell," Gwen chuckled, diving into the box for an old fashioned and nicking the honey cream.

"The portal and the Scieron themselves blocked the Rift," Ianto stated simply, happily enjoying his own special breakfast treat. "Now they're gone."

"Bloody hell," the green-eyed brunette swore as she dropped down onto the couch. "No offense..."

"Simple truth," the young Archivist nodded, responding to the expletive and the apology. "Vast, sweltering, oppressive, eerie, terrifying, and mind-numbing apply too. And yes, as far as the Rift goes, it's about to start the proverbial Spring Thaw."

"'Let's move to the country', said Rhys," Cooper complained in a sing-song voice, gesturing grandly with her pastry. "'Let's stay near Cardiff', said I... I must be the world's biggest idiot."

"Nah," Jack made a dismissive sound. "Just a closet masochist like everyone else who's ever answered the siren song of Torchwood. If you aren't when you start, you will be in pretty short order."

"I represent that remark," Ianto frowned, then laughed with the other two. "But seriously..."

The young Welshman was interrupted by the sound of the main door rotating open and its warning claxon, which was itself downplayed by a noise familiar only to the three on the settee... a Rift alert.

"And so it begins," Harkness grinned as they scrambled for the workstations as Turlough and Lois rushed inside. "Just like old times."

"Rift activity," Gwen called, pulling up the maps to pinpoint the problem. "Large singular spike about a ten-minute drive from here... dead centre of the lowest level of the parking tower two blocks south of the ongoing decontamination cordon around the Turnmill powerplant."

"Weevils?" their leader asked as he peered over her shoulder, sounding almost hopeful.

"Maws," Ianto replied, having accessed the structure's CCTV cameras. "Hunting pack of five... no, seven. They look to be a bit disoriented so we should have time to get there before they take to the alleys or sewers."

"Gwen, grab the heavy assault guns," Jack called, moving to the small arms locker across the room after glancing at the troll-like bipeds visible on the monitors. "No prisoners with those guys. Turlough, what size shoes do you wear?"

"Likely the same size as Mr. Jones," the redhead stated, already starting to remove the over ankle, almost military style lace-up boots he was wearing. "I'll try to keep an eye on them and play navigator from here if they move out before you get to the carpark. Headsets are in the charger stands beside both stations. Should I have Martha ready the medical bay when she gets in?"

"Never hurts to be prepared," the Captain nodded, equipping himself and Ianto with an ear-comm and a nine-millimetre Glock each as the younger brunette put on the borrowed footwear. "Have Johnson hit the main Armoury as soon as she comes in, tell her to stand by with the heavy artillery in case we need back up. Lois, call Andy at the Precinct and let him know what's happening, ask him to alert UNIT since they volunteered for disposal duty, and see if he can keep all civilians out of the area if possible. We'll try to mop this up as quickly as we can."

Gwen handed off two of the big H&K MP5's she came hurrying into the room with, quickly securing her own handgun and blue tooth communications unit as Ianto took charge of the ammo pack she'd had looped over one arm.

"Let's go," she urged, leading her two friends toward the Hub level tunnel to the new underground parking area for the Torchwood SUV and other vehicles. "This way is shorter but wetter and a lot smellier."

They were off to stop dangerous aliens from butchering the population of Cardiff, hoping the lantern jawed, T-Rex toothed, prize bull muscled, sickle clawed, eating machines didn't start the day by putting one of them on the menu. It really was just like old times.

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AN: Off and running...

sandysan2013 – I agree, but that does seem to be Gwen's default. If she doesn't agree with something, or it doesn't fit her personal view of what's "right", and it won't change because she says so, then she gets indignant and slappy.

Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM