Fire Valley Academy Chapter 4: By Popular Demand, a torchwood fanfic

By Popular Demand

Contrary to popular belief, Rhys Williams was not the burly, athletic Welsh angel others thought him to be. Sure, he was handsome- his brown hair was cropped neatly into something that wasn't quite a crew-cut, but wasn't quite spiky, his eyes were a shiny shade of saccharine hazel and no matter what he wore, he looked good. He was one to admire himself in the mirror quite a lot, and he took very good care of himself- he exercised for an hour a day, he ate plenty of lean meats and vegetables, and he showered every morning followed by a bubble bath every evening, which was why his features were so angelic, and why he always seemed to smell like a garden of blackcurrants. Everyone who knew him- and those who didn't, for that matter- knew he could have whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, because he was simply that kind of guy.

Today, he was sporting casual- a pair of light grey skinny-jeans with black Converse trainers and a black dress shirt, topped off with a pair of shades and a gold Crucifix around his neck. He was walking through the courtyard in front of the school, to choruses of "Oh my god- that's him!", "He's so lush!" and "Wow- he's nice!" when he spotted something he liked the look of. She had long, dark hair draped around her shoulders, pale skin, beautiful red lips parted slightly to reveal a gap in milk-white teeth. She was on her own, dressed simply in a plain black t-shirt and black leggings under a tartan skirt with white trainers. She was sitting atop one of the tables by the hedges, reading a book. Instantly, he could tell that this girl was charming as he made his way over to her.

"Hello there," he purred, taking a perch next to her. "You alone, or did the angels set you here as a reminder to the other girls of what beauty truly is?" The girl didn't seem fazed by his attempts because she just kept reading her book.

"What book is that?" Rhys ventured. "It looks interesting." The girl, without taking her eyes off the page she was on, lifted the book to show Rhys the title- "Dracula"- then set it back down to her lap.

"Have you got your file-o-fax yet?" He asked. "I'd love to know if your name suits your beauty."

The girl mumbled something, still unfazed by his flirting. Rhys could make out her accent- she was Welsh, which meant that she would be better suited to him than some of the other non-Welsh girls there were at the school- and those mumbled words caught his breath. They were so beautiful. These three syllables confirmed it- he was in love with Gwen Cooper.

"There you go." Owen shoved something into Jack's hands. Jack looked at it- it was blue, ratty and well-thumbed. On the front, the words "Owen's Songbird" were only just visible beneath the rips and pencil marks which were collected over the past few years.

"What's this?" Jack asked, opening the book to a random page.

"Me songbook." Owen looked down at the floor and kicked the dust with his scuffed blue trainer. "My mum bought it for me the day we found out I got into this place. I wrote the bit about the songbird on the front, just to make it look like I was a sensitive so-n-so to the girls. Fat lot a good that did, then."

"Come on, Harper," Jack said encouragingly, "you're a good-looking guy. And, from what I know of you, you're a pretty smart one, too."

Owen gave a dismissive laugh. "Oh, come on!" Jack sighed. "You're doing Chemistry and Biology, and Mathematics! I don't know anyone else who's doing those subjects! I'm stuck doing Greek, Aviation Mechanics and Numerical Theory. You're the smartest person I've met so far." Except for Ianto. Whoa, what was that? Jack shook his head, trying to clear his head of the thought, but it remained.

"I'd rather Numerical Theory," Owen confessed, sitting on his bed. Jack followed suit, sitting on the opposite bed. "Numerical Theory is easier. You don't 'ave to do Algebra, Quadratics, or all that stuff. You just do case studies. Well, I digress. Onto the songs- just thumb through that ev'ry now n then and we'll sing the ones you like."

"I think I like this one." Jack said, pointing to the page he had opened to. Owen got up, looked at the page and smiled.

"So do I."

About a week later...

Torchwood have just finished their final rehearsal... Gwen is playing bass guitar, Ianto is on lead guitar, Owen is on the drums, Lisa is backstage fiddling with the technical equipment, and Jack is busy adjusting his black t-shirt in front of the microphone. The lights dim, and the show begins...

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend
Keep you in the dark
And so it all began
Send in your skeletons
Sing as their bones go marching in... again
The need you buried deep
The secrets that you keep are at the ready
Are you ready?

The Principal could believe neither what he was hearing nor what was going on. His breath caught in his throat his eyes bulged, and his mind blew. He had trusted these five to perform and inspire the Students into productivity, not the rowdiness which was taking place all around him- students jumping up and down, screaming their heads off and crying out... the Principal was outraged!

I'm finished making sense
Done pleading ignorance
That whole defence
Spinning infinity, but
The wheel is spinning me
It's never ending, never ending
Same old story

Gwen has been so busy focusing on the chords of the guitar she was holding, she had been oblivious to the young man in the front row giving her the eye. He had brown hair in a weird spiky crew-cut, brownish eyes, was tall, rather good-looking, and she could only just catch a scent of... was the blackcurrant? Or was it blueberry? It was hard to tell over Jack's overpowering cologne.

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?
What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

Owen couldn't help but laugh as he saw the Principal's face go from its normal pallid tone to a healthy angered shade of crimson. He had finally done it after these past few months of trying- he had acted on a hunch, but he had finally managed to prove that something was up with the Principal.

In time or so I'm told
I'm just another soul for sale... oh, well
The page is out of print
We are not permanent
We're temporary, temporary
Same old story

I'm the voice inside your head
You refuse to hear
I'm the face that you have to face
Mirrored in your stare
I'm what's left, I'm what's right
I'm the enemy
I'm the hand that will take you down
Bring you to your knees

Lisa was watching on the cameras inside her little hub backstage. She saw Owen struggle to hide his laughter; Jack, so caught up in the song that he didn't even notice, wave his arms in victory; Gwen smile in pride; Ianto nod his head, bashfully in sync with his fingers strumming on the guitar, at the hundreds of screaming Students. But, what really made her smile was the Principal's mouth, contorted with anger, to reveal a small slip of a grey tongue...

So who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?

Ianto hated being in public places. He dreaded it. He felt completely out of place. He couldn't wait for the song to stop just so that he could run offstage and hide in his room...

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend
What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?
What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

Jack felt proud to be up on the stage, singing in front of so many people. He had to admit, he was pretty good. He hadn't been good at much before- just Maths and charming the ladies and gentlemen, but that was really it. He had never considered singing before, but he got to thinking... maybe after he had finished school and got his aviator's licence, then he would probably consider a career in music. He figured that it'd be interesting...

What if I say I'm not like the others?
(Keep you in the dark)
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
(You know they all... pretend)
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

So who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?