A Christmassy sort of thing for you all, as requested/suggested by thedeejay. More thanks go to my other reviewers: Torchwood Cardiff, wanda1969, caralily, gernumblies, milady dragon, anotherbuskitten and L.A.H.H. Warnings for general craziness and no actual mention of Christmas in the story.

I was supposed to be writing a 3000 word essaytoday. Instead I seem to have written a 3000 word story in which the Torchwood team attempt to produce their own pantomime. I'm still not quite sure how this happened.

The Imaginatively Named Torchwood Pantomime

Jack, the herald of doom, had announced team building again.

No one believed in team building any more. Inevitably they ended up with several destructive arguments, broken furniture, ridiculously high stress levels, and a handful of minor injuries. The only thing that came out of them that could possibly be seen as a benefit in some people's eyes (notably Owen's) was that people frequently became on non-speaking terms with each other. None of this seemed to fit in with the conventional definition of 'team building'.

Currently, Ianto didn't think that this time would be much different, except that he was prepared to add 'horrendous amounts of sexual innuendo and slapstick comedy' to the above list. Torchwood could probably have a pretty good go at producing a sci-fi programme, so long as it had large amounts of sex, violence and swearing, but he didn't think that the team would be quite as up for a pantomime. He certainly wasn't. The only saving grace he could see was that the only people who would ever see their amateur dramatics would be themselves.

"I don't want to see Jack in a dress." Owen moaned over his coffee, the day after the announcement that Jack was writing them a script specially. "I'll get nightmares."

Tosh shuddered. Of course, there was no real question as to who would be the obligatory pantomime dame. Having Owen would have been amusing, but knowing Jack it was probably unlikely.

"I'm not sure we have a dress to fit him." Ianto pondered.

"Let's hope not." Gwen looked grim. "I know it's pointless, but is there-?"

"No, we can't get out of it." Ianto was staring despondently at the wall. "Not now he's got it into his head."

"Who gave him the idea in the first place?"

Gwen and Tosh shook their heads in response to Owen's belligerent request. Ianto gave a quiet cough. "I may have mentioned the phrase 'he's behind you', to Jack at some point, and had to explain…"

"So we're going to have endless peals of that." Tosh sighed again. "Which is a bit silly without an audience." Ianto nodded in agreement.

"And bloody innuendo." Owen added. "Tonnes of it. God, give me a weevil any day."

"In a dress?" Tosh asked with a smile.

"Anything. In a ballgown, a diving suit, anything."

The others shared the sentiment.

Ianto read through the draft and then read it through again. And again. It was not quite what he had anticipated.

Jack looked at him expectantly. "Well? It needs work, of course, but what do you think?"

"Uh, it's… It's alright. Better than I thought." Ianto paused. "Jack, have you ever been to a pantomime?"

"Nope. I thought that at my age might be a bit too old for them, by about a century or so. But I'm sure you can all remember your youthful days still."

"Right." Ianto thought this through. So Jack had missed out on certain… elements that were traditionally found in pantomimes. Notably the more adult ones. But he wasn't complaining. He wasn't complaining at all. Maybe this might be bearable. Just.

"How bad is it? Tell!"

"No."

Gwen looks put out. "I thought you were on our side. Come on, tell!"

"If he'd wanted you to read it, he would have asked you as well as me. Besides, it was only the draft version."

"But how bad is it? Give us some kind of preparation, at least!"

"My part's alright."

"Ianto!"

"Yes?"

"What about everyone else?"

Ianto smoothes down his shirt front. "Wait and see."

Still a day to go before they properly begin, and already they're on non-speaking terms.

At the top of Tosh's script (only five pages) is a cast list. She tries to read it slowly, stomach filling with dread. Her first thought is to wonder how patchy the 'first draft' Ianto had mentioned had been. Or had the play never got past the first draft?

Narrator - Captain Jack Harkness

Sir I'll-think-of-a-name-later. Something Welsh. - Ianto

Princess ...? ? ?... - Toshh

Evil witch (I'm giving up on names here. Names are hard) - Gwen

Squire/dragon/horse/Janet the weevil/any other minor character - Owen

Owen is already flicking ahead, a look of disbelief etched on his face.

"Stop!" Jack calls out. "Don't read it yet. I want you to do it as you go along."

"But-!"

"Right." Jack looked down at his own copy of the script, then back up at them authoritatively. "Have any of you got any questions?" He is hit by a barrage.

"Why do I only get stupid silly little roles? And why did you make me a horse? I don't want to be Ianto's horse! Or Janet! I-"

"How come you can spell Ianto's name and not mine?"

"Do I have to be the evil witch? And how come you get to be the narrator?"

"Why didn't you just use our real names? Or am I supposed to be called 'Sir I'll-think-of-a-name-later'? Because-"

"Alright, alright!" Jack stopped waving his hands for silence. "Ok, we're going to-"

"Aren't you going to answer our questions?" Jack pauses and looks down at Gwen. Her hands are on her hips. "Well, aren't you?"

"Because I'm the director."

"Sorry?"

"That's the answer to all your questions: I'm the director." Jack takes in the disapproving looks. "Don't complain. I'm the director, therefore I'm in charge. My plot, my casting. I could kill you all off if I wanted to."

"Even me?"

"Even you, Ianto."

"Awww, what a tragedy." Owen snarks. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Yep. Props and costumes are over there."

Ianto follows the others hesitantly, speeding up at the girls' gasp and Owen's bark of laughter.

"I just looked through the archives to see what we had-"

"And we just 'happened to have' an entire suit of armour?"

Jack tries not to laugh at Ianto's expression, half incredulous, half outraged at the idea that there might be something in the archives he doesn't know about. "It's not a full suit of armour. That would take too long to get into. Just the helmet and the chain-mail."

"And the broadsword." Tosh adds quietly.

"But that lot must weigh bloody tonnes!" Owen points out unnecessarily, and hastily adds "I am not being the horse. Ok? No chance."

"Jack, is this real gold?"

Jack glances at the diadem Gwen is holding reverently. "That? Yep. Thirteenth century." He turns back to Ianto, scooping the chain-mail up.

"And the dress?"

He looks back again. "Err, twelfth, I think."

"Twelfth century?"

"Yes." Jack is busy trying to find the armholes.

"And all I get is cheap Halloween witch's hat from Tesco?"

Ianto clears his throat. "Sainsbury's-" He begins, but is cut off by Jack shoving a heap of linked metal circles over his head. Heavy metal circles.

"Oh, well that makes things fine then, doesn't it? Tosh, if I help you put that on, will you let me try it out later?"

"Yep. Sure."

Owen examines what looks like a giant lizard's claw with interest, then turns to try out the sword. Fortunately for all concerned he only manages to lift it as far as his waist before the muscles in his arm give in.

"Once upon a time, at Cardiff Castle-"

Ianto raises his visor. "Sir, Cardiff Castle isn't mediaeval. It was actually built in-"

"'Once upon a time' Ianto. Not 'Once upon a time in the mediaeval period'."

"But you do have knights." Gwen points out.

"It's the Rift." The Rift can explain anything. Jack clears his throat and starts again. "Once upon a time, at Cardiff Castle, there was a bold young knight called-"

"'Sir I'll-think-of-a-name-later'?" Ianto proposes. Jack shoots him a warning look.

"-who loved a fair lady named-"

"Dot dot dot question mark question mark question mark dot dot dot." Tosh intones steadily off the cast list, still keeping a straight face. Nearly straight.

Jack glared at her. "-who unfortunately had just been kidnapped by an evil witch whose name is of no importance to us, Gwen Cooper!"

Gwen gave him an innocent look, which he proceeded to ignore. "So this young knight decided to go off in search of his fair lady, taking with him his trusty steed and his faithful squire-"

"Am I meant to be both at once? 'Cos if I'm meant to be a squire and a horse, I'd rather be the squire. Then I might actually get some lines."

"Actually, none of your roles are speaking parts."

"What!"

"And so they rode and they rode and they rode, through the hills and fields until Sir… until the knight spotted something." Jack stopped.

The others waited.

"Ianto…"

"Oh, sorry. Err 'What's this?'"

Jack sighs. "No, sound more like you're actually wondering what it is."

"What's this?"

"Excellent."

"So what is it?"

"It's…" Jack frowned. "It was going to be something that Gwen, err, the witch, had dropped, so that you could follow her."

"Only you put a blank in the script and forgot to go back and fill it in."

"Yep."

"It could be a spare witch's hat."

"I've only got the one."

"Maybe Tosh could have dropped her tiara as a clue so that I could find her?"

Jack nods and scribbles something on the script. "Right Tosh, hand it over."

Tosh neatly drops several million pounds worth of jewellery on the floor.

"Right. Continue."

Ianto scooped to pick the diadem up, nearly tripping over due to the weight of his costume, and ad-libbed. "Dot dot dot question mark question mark question mark dot dot dot's tiara!" He didn't look at Jack's face as he continued from the script. "'My one true love must be nearby, and we must save her! Onwards, my bold companion!' Cue glare from Owen."

"Cut to the witches' castle."

"Oh. Is that me?"

"Who else is it going to be, Gwen?" Owen replies in annoyance. "It's not as if I've got a speaking part, is it?"

Gwen took a deep breath. "'I've finally won! I have captured the princess and when Sir Whatever-name-I-finally-decide-to-call-him comes to save her I will either murder him horribly or turn him into a frog slash dragon slash weevil open brackets I will come back and decide which later once I've written the end close brackets!'"

Tosh stopped, momentarily stunned, and trying very very hard not to laugh in order to stay in character.

"You missed the evil cackle." Jack says petulantly, as if this was the only thing about this performance he could be bothered correcting.

"Where?"

"At the start. And don't do it as 'begin italics evil cackle end italics'."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Gwen takes a breath, then warns: "I'm not very good at evil cackles." She gives a hesitant attempt.

"Not like that! More evil, and not so…. Ok. Yeah, like that."

"Maybe a bit less evil next time?" Ianto offers.

Tosh looks down at her script. "'Oh no you won't. He'll come and save me, so there!'"

"'He doesn't stand a chance against me. I will defeat him and kill him horribly in front of you over a long period of time, and then I will take you and'-" Gwen turned the page, "'cleaning and refitting the SUV £623.49; fuel costs-'"

"Gwen, that's not the script!"

"Really? I never would have guessed. 'Fuel costs-'".

Jack removes the stray finance sheet from her copy and directs her to the right page, ignoring the protests of 'I'm just reading what I've been given!'.

"So what do you do to Tosh?" Owen asks expectantly.

"Jack's left it blank. What would you like me to do?"

"Make her sort our finances filing system out." Ianto suggests hurriedly, before anything worse is offered up.

Gwen shudders. "Sounds sufficiently evil. Oh good, I get to cackle again."

The pause is longer this time.

Owen shakes his head from side to side. "That's really freaky, you know that?"

Gwen grins happily.

"Scene three." Jack announces, glad he had kept this short. "On a lonely country road, our hero is in grave peril."

"'Oh no! A rabid wild beast!'"

"Am I the horse, the squire or the weevil at this point?"

"Weevil."

"Can I make weevil noises?"

"Yes."

Ianto closes his eyes as he listens. "This is really just a competition as to who can make the most unnerving noises, isn't it? I can do a duck on acid, if you like."

Gwen's face brightens. "I'll turn you into one at the end, if I win."

Jack clears his throat. "The weevil – for that is what it was – charged at our bold knight, who raised his great sword aloft and-"

Tosh screams, suddenly paying attention to the action again. "No, don't! It's a real sword, it'll-"

"It's alright." Ianto tells her. "I couldn't lift the real one, so I've just got a wooden one now. Much less dangerous." He proceeds to demonstrate this fact.

"Ow! I'll have bruises for a week now, you-!"

"And with one quick blow the ferocious beast lay dead upon the floor – lie down, Owen! - and our hero advanced further towards the witches' castle, into scene four, in which there are no witches cackling on account of the knight having got past the witch's weevil."

"Would you like me to sob violently instead?"

"No, you can just read out your lines. And miss out any extra punctuation."

"'Oh no my weevil is dead'"

Tosh takes up the dialogue dutifully. "'My brave knight has slain him, and he will kill you too.'"

"Only if he gets here. Which he won't."

Jack frowns. "That's not on my script."

"Well, it should be, shouldn't it? Can I write the play next year?"

"You're really wasting our acting potential." Ianto adds. "We can do far better than this, with better material."

"Can we just go to the bit where I get to be a dragon and eat Ianto?"

"SCENE FIVE!" Jack shouts, over the increasing complaints. "In which the dragon-"

"-Charged at the knight with his eyes aflame, panting and snorting, reeking of brimstone and rotting flesh. Ianto made a pass-"

Owen takes over. "-And missed, giving the dragon just enough time to sink its teeth into the knight's arm and rip it from his shoulder-"

Ianto regains control "But at that point his faithful squire charged in riding his jet black steed, thus causing the actor so much confusion over which part to play that the dragon dropped dead of a heart-attack. The knight continued into the castle, clanking up the stairs, bleeding heavily from the stump of his left arm, until he reached the innermost chamber. There he saw his love sat on a golden chair, gleaming in all her radiance, and she said-"

"'You took a long time in coming.'" Tosh begins with a grin. "'I've been here for weeks now! What took you so long? Oh, get back into the hall, you're dripping blood on the carpet. And what have you done with my tiara?'"

"Then the witch entered, and the knight turned on her, tears burning his eyes. 'What have you done with my love, you hell-fiend? Why have you corrupted her like this?'"

"'I haven't corrupted her, I just showed her what an arrogant twat you were, and how the only thing you were good for was killing other people's pets. She says she likes it far more here than at your stupid palace, getting drunk on potions from my magic cauldron every night and singing witchy songs together, and she never wants to marry you, ever. Now would you like to be murdered horribly or would you rather be turned into a duck on acid?'"

"'Duck on acid, please.'"

"'Abracadabra alakazam!'"

There was a peal of evil cackles, followed by a collection of sounds which could believably come from a duck on acid, if you had been told that they did, with an accompaniment of weevil grunts. Tosh made one last attempt at seriousness in the face of Jack's despair before breaking down.

"Open brackets the end close brackets."

I doubt Jack could ever write anything that's bad scriptwise, or be so terrible a director, but oh well. Maybe he was doing it deliberately. Or maybe I just couldn't think of any new character names and it all stemmed from there.

Feel free to make more requests (I've got a couple more to go) since when I've finally stopped procrastinating this essay I should have time to write some. Now I will post this and attempt an essay introduction…