Torchwood: Divergence
Book One: Dychwelyd

Chapter 21

The afternoon and early evening had seen three more Rift spikes, though fortunately no life forms. UNIT had helpfully taken charge of the burnt out 1937 German tank that had appeared in a vacant lot in Splott, Turlough and Gwen had collected the Orion holographic projector from its drop in Wern-Goch Park east of Cyncoed in the heart of the woodland preserve, and Martha had brought the inactive, shoebox sized Grolon rat trap back with her from the hospital where it had conveniently shown up in A&E. Ianto had finished the 999 project and made a trip into the Archives for two unmarked boxes, presumably clothing items for later use.

By 8:00 pm, both Jack and Ianto had been bandage free and given a clean bill of health by the team's doctor. At 8:30, Harkness had told the group they'd all had a very busy day and should head home for what rest they could get. He and his partner would handle any late-night Rift surges and resort to calling for back up only in the direst of circumstances.

So now the Hub was empty save for Torchwood's two in-residence team members, who were sitting on the sofa enjoying a pizza and waiting for the next Rift alert.

"Okay..." Ianto began quietly. "I know now that I'll never age past the day I died at Thames House, which means I'm basically twenty-six years, one month and seven days old forever."

"That's how it works," Jack nodded, reaching for the last slice of pepperoni with mushrooms. "Problem?"

"No... Just curious," the younger man shrugged. "I looked at Gwen's calendar when I pulled the print out of the finished 999 mess earlier. She marked the day the Scieron brought me back through the portal in the Cathays cemetery... August 19th."

"Your Birthday," Harkness realised, not having really thought about the current date until now.

"Which doesn't really count anymore," Ianto nodded, taking a sip of beer. "Because I may have existed for twenty-eight years at that point, but my body will only ever acknowledge twenty-six and a bit. So, for the most part it's just another day. What I wonder, is if I'm still entitled to a birthday gift?"

"Presents..." his partner breathed with a reminiscent smile. "Man, you guys used to give each other some really twisted stuff back when the old team was here. And I don't think I've had a birthday present since... wow, even before I met the Doctor."

"That's because no-one knows when your Birthday is and you never shared," the young Welshman pointed out equitably. "Just like you never confirmed where your American accent came from, considering you told us you were born on a colony planet in the far future, just one more mystery. However, if you'd like to remedy the date of birth thing, I'd be more than happy to take care of the gift issue."

"My ancestors came from what is currently Illinois, but there hadn't been an actual 'America' for several centuries before the colony on Styggeulven was settled," the older brunette chuckled. "So technically I'm American... but not. And we'll see about the birthday, when there's time to waste trying to convert the date differences. Anyhow, I'm guessing you brought this up for a reason. Something special you're hoping to find fancy wrapped and bow topped? A new wardrobe? New flat? Armour plated puppy dog that Myfanwy can't make a snack out of?"

"Nope," Ianto shook his head slowly, rising to clear away the now empty pizza box as well as their beer bottles and used serviettes. "We were busy on my last actual birthday, taking care of a thousand things on top of Retconning anyone with issues after the dead-line trouble, wrapping up the Mariana Trench dive, and trying to find the Twerxt larvae that had gotten into the fishmongers'. Do you remember what I told you before that, when you said Gwen intended to give me a card to cover a night for two at that five-star hotel you were smitten with at the time, and you asked what I'd like from you?"

The Captain frowned, obviously trying to recall the long ago conversation. Then he slowly began to smile, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Just a kiss," Jack finally replied. "And I promised one that would leave you too weak to stand, followed by a night that would leave you too tired to move till noon the next day."

"Wish hasn't changed," Ianto stated with a small smile of his own. "But..."

The twenty-six-year-old's words were interrupted by the Rift alarm and he rolled his eyes in obvious annoyance as he headed for the nearest workstation.

"Major spike," he called, rapidly bringing up the maps and accessing appropriate CCTV and other available remote links. "Only a single life form detected though... system's running the database for a match. Looks to have come out close to... lovely... the graveyard the Scieron brought me through."

"We need big guns or will the 9mm's do?" Harkness queried, rising from the couch to come stand behind the younger man.

"System's still thinking," Ianto offered, then smiled once more. "But the Heddlu cameras are still working out there, and I'm seeing a single Weevil. Looks a bit agitated, but small arms, spray and a hood should do. Strange for such a big surge, but... Oh, the boxes over there are yours."

"I thought they were clothes from the Archives," Jack countered with a raised brow.

"One's a backup RAF coat for you, circa 1942," his partner explained, snagging two headsets and some Weevil spray before acquiring a single Glock from the arms locker. "Right rank and everything. You'll definitely want the smaller box now though. It's an 1892 edition wood grip Webley-WG revolver, loaded and test fired, holster's with it."

"I thought we were talking about your birthday, not mine," the Captain laughed, moving to collect the weapon. "Come to papa!"

Jones just smiled and jogged to the office to collect the SUV key fob, but paused when the system pinged for attention. He quickly checked the new pop-up, looked at the surveillance footage display and cringed.

"Jack, I know why the Weevil was agitated, and we have a problem," he called.

"Too long in the Rift and doesn't like having to dig for its dinner?" the older man asked, putting on the coat from the box to give it a good trial run for fit.

"No," Ianto answered, his tone unusually clipped. "Something else came out, not it, and decided it was tasty. Must be why the system took so long to confirm anything. We're not dealing with a Weevil anymore, sir, we're dealing with what the computer says is an Agapathian Toad, and looks like a ten foot high, dragon scaled version of a pit-bull frog. And I don't think one Weevil is going to keep it happy for long."

"Whoa... and no Mothra when you need her," the self-proclaimed American commented as he came to look at the image on the monitor. "Think MP5's will work on that?"

"Maybe," his companion frowned thoughtfully. "If we can hit the eyes. But we do still have a few RD10 implosion spheres. Think you can chuck one down its throat if I play bait?"

"That might work," Harkness nodded, though his expression reflected how reluctant he was to let the younger brunette take the risk. "I'll grab two and meet you at the SUV."

They split up to accomplish their separate tasks, were back together and on their way in mere minutes. Fortunately, the beast hadn't left the outskirts of the old cemetery yet when they arrived, having found a small colony of feral cats to corner and gobble up. The two left the vehicle a safe distance away and approached the monster on foot, careful to avoid its range of vision until they could see the terrain it was in.

"That's creepy," Ianto breathed, frowning slightly. "I can still feel the Scieron portal resonance in the ground, smell the blood. That may be what's keeping Über Ugly hanging about."

Jack sniffed, detecting only a tiny trace of his partner's cologne, moist air, damp earth, and the acrid slightly mildewed reek of the quasi-reptilian behemoth nearby.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked quietly, starting to feel strangely uneasy.

"I go out and decoy it," Jones murmured, glancing around the graveyard. "You get to the big eight by eight crumbling crypt over to the left so you'll have some cover and a place to climb if you need a higher angle. Once you're set, I bait it around to face you and try to get it to say 'ah'."

"I'm starting to get a not so good feeling about this," Harkness breathed tightly, reaching out to put a hand on his lover's shoulder.

"Yeah, me too," the twenty-six-year-old hissed, covering the American's hand with one of his own. "But this is our best shot. Ready?"

"Be careful," Jack growled solemnly, preparing to bolt for the proper piece of disintegrating stonework as soon as the younger man gave the word.

They both keyed their comms for automatic send and receive, then Ianto broke cover and moved onto open ground.

He sprinted to a position that would afford his Captain the best chance of reaching his goal before he opened fire on the toad-like monstrosity with his 9mm. The shots peppered the creature's tough hide, doing little damage but definitely getting its attention. It swung toward the Changeling, a hissing growl cutting the air as it spotted potential prey.

"Go now," Jones instructed over the headset, quickly slapping a second clip into his gun and aiming for the beast's bulbous eyes.

He saw Harkness move, but then noticed that the ten-foot hopping horror before him was scenting the air and starting to turn.

"Damn it," the young Welshman grated, trying to think of what the creature would find more appealing than his partner's fifty first century pheromones. "Bloody hell..."

Then it struck him. The beast was hungry and would likely be most interested in fresh, hot blood. Without hesitation, Ianto slid the Glock into the back of his waistband beneath the tail of his old crimson dress shirt, summoned a serviceable sword to his right hand, encircled the narrow end of the blade with his left and pulled. The razor-sharp metal opened his palm and fingers, blood gushing froth to splatter onto the ground at his feet. And the giant armoured toad immediately swung back to lunge at him.

Jack had realised the monster was turning his way, made it to the crypt and spun around with his newly acquired Webley levelled. But then he'd heard it scramble away from his position, saw it diving for his now sword wielding partner whose left hand was dripping blood.

"What..." he started to ask for an update over the comms, but stopped as he watched the young man he loved evade the slavering beast with surprising ease.

[Get ready,] Jones called via the Bluetooth device, playing a game of strike and evade, slowly turning the creature toward the older man's hiding place.

Harkness prepped an implosive sphere, watching tensely as the twenty-six-year-old brought the monster around to face the crypt. But then the giant armoured toad managed to catch the young Welshman's right knee with one of its wickedly clawed forefeet as he tried to avoid a toppled headstone, and the Changeling went down with a shout of pain and surprise.

"Ianto!"

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AN: Oops… It would appear I've ended with a cliff-hanger (again)…

Yeah… hopefully you won't expire from the suspense before next weekend. Feel free to let me know if you're champing at the bit for the next chapter. (Yes, all writers get a certain evil glee out of leaving the readers hanging at times… I think it's in the basic rules of literature. LOL!)

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