Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN TORCHWOOD OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS. NOR DO I OWN THE SONGS USED IN THIS STORY. WELL, EXCEPT FOR ONE- BUT I WROTE THAT BY MYSELF ANYWAY. GUESS WHICH ONE IT IS- IT'LL BE USED LATER ON.

SORRY FOR ANY OFFENCE OR WHATEVER CAUSED (IF ANY) BY ANYTHING IN THIS STORY.

PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO REVIEW THIS STORY- THE MORE FEEDBACK, THE BETTER I CAN MAKE THE FOLLOWING CHAPTERS.

Light-switch

"Unbelievable." The Principal bitterly muttered under his breath as he turned to face the five students sitting on the opposite side of his desk. "This absolutely, positively... I can't even describe it!"

"We know, sir." Owen mumbled. "But please let the new kids and Lisa go- it was me who was singing, after all. The rest of the kids in the dining hall..." He trailed off, knowing that it wouldn't be worth trying to save the skins of him and the others given the current circumstances.

"Let them go?" The Principal looked sickly amused. "Now, look here," he laid his hands to rest on the desk, "I have the right mind to expel the five of you from the school, but I shall make a deal with you. I took to notice that you, Mister Harper, are rather a talented singer, and, perhaps if given the correct tutelage, so may be your friends talented with instruments."

"What are you asking, Principal?" Lisa whimpered, fear glazing her eyes.

"I am asking that you five represent the school." He placed a calm persona over his anger, as though a witch would welcome a young child into her house of horrors.

"As what?" Owen asked, suspiciously.

"A musical ensemble. A rock band. A quintet, take your pick!" The Principal gave a wide toothy smile. "I believe that you five are here for this particular purpose- music!"

"Oh, come on!" Somebody shouted, sounding annoyed. Everybody turned to the source of the outcry- Gwen Cooper, dressed in her dark blue jeans and purple t-shirt, shrinking back with embarrassment into the chair, looking vulnerable and scared.

"Pardon, Miss Cooper?" The Principal was aghast. "Would you care to explain why you felt the need to shout something so curt?"

"Erm..." Gwen was stuck. She didn't know what the hell she was supposed to say, but she heard someone say something in a language she felt more comfortable with- Welsh. She pricked her ears and shifted her eyes sideways... to the young Welshman sitting right next her. Ianto was mumbling in their language, an octave or so just above a whisper so that she could translate; "Say sorry- it'll get us out of here quicker!"

"Sorry, sir." She apologised. "I didn't mean to be discourteous."

"You are forgiven." The Principal gave a quick bow of his head, then continued; "As I was saying, I want you five to write songs, play music and entertain every few weeks at Committee Gatherings. I trust that you shall comply."

There was a silence while everything sunk in, and then Owen understood as he was saying; "Oh, oh yes, Principal. We understand. Now, can we go, please?"

"What the hell did you just get us into?!" Lisa was fuming at Owen. Jack could tell that much. Even though they were sitting beneath the night-light shade of a gigantic oak tree, Lisa's dark face was glowing with anger. She was so furious she was the only one who was standing!

"Come on Lis," said Owen, in that cockney calm voice, "look at it like this; we do something we don't like for an idiot we hate, hence we don't get expelled, hence our parents don't kill us, and therefore we have free reign!"

"Free reign?" Lisa squeaked. "How in the name of whatever do we have free reign?"

"I think I can explain it." Jack piped up. Owen looked pretty grateful at the prospect of not having to put up with yet another angry earful from Lisa whilst everyone was looking at Jack.

"Go on then, yank!" Lisa seethed. "How exactly do we have free reign?"

"Well," Jack sighed, looking up at the sky, "I know I haven't been here more than twelve hours, but from what I understand of this place is that it's not unlike a dictatorship- you have one guy in charge, bossing people about, the people below him, cowering. Then you have us- the students. While the rest of the students are forcing themselves to study due to the fear of being expelled, we can't be because we are now on the Principal's Good Side. Therefore, all we have to do is write a song every few days, rehearse it with a guitar or piano and then sing every few weeks. In the meantime, we'll have reign to do whatever the hell we want because we 'need inspiration', as all great musicians do."

"Aah," Lisa smiled, taking a seat near Ianto. "I hadn't considered that."

"There's actually more to it," Jack smirked, "but perhaps Owen could let you in on his master plan. Oh, don't look at me like that, Owen! I could tell you were thinking something when we left!" Owen was giving Jack a potent death-stare, obviously annoyed at the fact that somebody had guessed what he was up to.

Lisa let out an intrigued noise and everyone looked at Owen. "It's not even beyond the embryonic stage, yet!" He protested. "Gimme more time to work on it 'n I'll tell you!"

"You have twenty-four hours." Jack smirked. Lisa and Owen smile, along with Ianto and Gwen. It was clear what the four of them were thinking...

"WHAT?!" Jack was terrified. The fear was activated by the light switch movement of Owen's rapid acceptance of the deal the Principal had set them. It was a terrifying feeling, being so vulnerable. He couldn't help but drift away in his thoughts, which happened to spin on a tangent to his own time, where the humans were slaves and toys to an unseen race... Owen brought him back to reality by dragging him to another part of their hiding place- the very end right where the back wall of the castle met with the mirror-lined hedges- to tell him that he, Jack Harkness, was to be the lead singer of the band, and he had to come up with the name.

"Hehe," Owen chuckled, "come on- you're a natural born leader, mate! Just look at how you handled that situation over there- I've never seen anyone talk to Lis like that! Besides- it's once every few weeks."

"Oh, God." Jack buried his face in his hands. He didn't like singing, so therefore he didn't want to do it, even if it was just once every few weeks.

"You don't even have to write the songs," Owen ventured as Jack leant against the hedge, "I'll take care of it. I mean, I wrote Teenagers by myself, didn't I? I have a crap-load more material stuffed under my bed that we could use. C'mon- waddya say?"

Jack groaned. "Okay, I'll fucking do it."

"Brilliant!" Owen's eyes lit up. "Now, what are we going to call ourselves, Captain?"

"Huh?" Jack looked up, confused. "What'd you call me?"

"Captain," Owen shrugged, "I figure we need nicknames, so, well, Captain just suits you more. So, back on topic- what we calling ourselves?"

Jack thought for a moment, and then looked up at the sky. The sun was burning like a torch into Jack's eyes. He looked back at Owen, a woody haze over his vision. Suddenly, inspiration struck. He smiled; "Torchwood."