Smiths & Joneses
by Soledad
Author's note: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.
Chapter 13
Beth Halloran was doing some long-overdue filing in the tourist information shack – poor Emma was overwhelmed by the task of stepping into the place of Director Jones, even if only temporarily, so the least Beth could do was to help her deal with the low-security tasks she'd been given clearance for – when a geriatric green Nissan parked directly before the Millennium Centre.
Out stepped a middle-aged but still fairly attractive woman, with shoulder-length auburn hair, wearing jeans and a cashmere pullover… and old and comfortable one, revealing that she preferred being comfortable to following whatever new fashion trend swept over the British Isles – a sentiment with which Beth whole-heartedly agreed. The woman locked her car, swung her oversized handbag over one shoulder and headed straight to the tourist office – like somebody who knew what purpose the small shop truly served.
Beth was still recovering from her surprise when the door opened and the woman marched in. Clever, experienced eyes scanned the dimly-lit room quickly and were soon fixed on the empty wall hiding the secret entrance of the Hub… as if she knew it was there.
Beth tried not to panic. "Can I help you, ma'am?"
That, surprisingly enough, earned her a warm, genuine smile.
"I think you can," the visitor replied. "I'm here to see Jack Harkness.
Beth opened her mouth to deliver one of the standard phrases of denial, but the older woman stopped her with a reproving look and a raised hand.
"Save your breath; I know all the excuses. Jack and I are old friends, and I'm here because he asked for my help. Something about one of the team being seriously ill."
Beth's mind whirled. The only team member currently incapacitated was Director Jones, who'd been in a coma for a week and a half. Captain Harkness hadn't mentioned having called for help, but again, he rarely told Beth anything of importance. Still, there was a distinct possibility that…
"Are you a doctor?" she asked doubtfully, and the visitor laughed.
"Good Lord, no! Although it would have made my Aunt Lavinia deliriously happy, had I chosen to study medicine – or anything even relatively scientific. No, dear; I'm a journalist, and it's my contacts that Jack has need of. So, if you could stop interrogating me and call him instead, it would save us all a great deal of time."
Beth still wasn't so sure that she should let this never-before-heard-of visitor into the Hub, but she was at least willing to ask Captain Harkness. She picked up the receiver of the old-fashioned phone and called the landline in the office.
"Captain Harkness, this is the reception. You've got a visitor," she covered the microphone with her hand and looked at said visitor. "Sorry, I didn't get your name…"
"Sarah Jane Smith," the woman told her readily enough.
"A Ms Sarah Jane Smith, sir," Beth repeated. "Yes, Captain, less than five minutes ago. Understood, sir," she hung up and turned back to the visitor. "Captain Harkness will be here in a moment. Would you care for a nice cuppa and a few biscuits in the meantime?"
When a good twenty minutes later – he'd been on the phone with Colonel Mace, and boy, had that been a shouting match of extraordinary proportions! – Jack emerged from the Hub, he found Sarah Jane and Beth sitting it the small kitchenette behind the bead curtain, having tea with custard cream biscuits… and a conversation about carpet cleaning, of all possibly topics in the universe!
His mind boggled.
But then he remembered that Sarah Jane had a big old house to keep in a habitable condition with only a rather… unusual teenaged boy to help her with that and realized that for women carrying the burden of a household alone this probably was an interesting topic.
Besides, was it not this what Torchwood fought for? So that ordinary people could worry about taxes and house cleaning and how their kids were doing at school, instead of living in fear of the very real possibility of an alien invasion?
In any case, it was a delight to see Sarah Jane, as always… and not only because she had been a companion once, too. She had the same solid, no-nonsense quality as Ianto – Jack felt grounded around her; he felt that he belonged. Just like with Ianto, but without the romantic aspects. He could barely remember his birthmother, but sometimes Sarah Jane reminded him of her.
Of course, he'd never tell her so. Even mature women tended to react badly when a grown man compared them with his mother.
"Sarah Jane, it's good to see you again!" he exclaimed, kissing her on the cheek; she blushed involuntarily, and he suppressed a grin. "How are you doing? And how's Luke?"
"I'm doing well, thank you," her blush receded gradually as she grew used to the exposure to his pheromones again. "As for Luke, well, he does what all teenagers of his age do: trying to figure out who he is and what he wants from his life. Of course, in his case the answers are a little more complicated."
"I can imagine," Jack was one of the very few people who knew about the origins of Sarah Jane's adopted son. "You should bring him to visit somewhen. Not the Hub," he added hurriedly, knowing how much Sarah Jane wanted Luke to have a semi-ordinary life, "but Cardiff has much to offer, and we'd be glad to show him around."
"I'll think about it," Sarah Jane gave the same answer as at every other time, and Jack didn't press. "Oh, by the way, Harry sends his regards."
Jack shook his head in tolerant amusement. "You're still seeing him? Yours must be the longest courtship of the planet."
"Friendship, Jack, merely friendship," she corrected, but her eyes softened with fond memories. Jack grinned.
"If that's what you wanna call it…"
"I call it what it is," she said, a little more sternly now. "But enough of me; you asked for my help. What can I do for you? Or is it classified?"
"Oh, it's way beyond classified," Jack answered grimly. "Come with me, and I'll tell you all about it."
"All right," Sarah Jane rose from her seat. "Ms Halloran, thanks for the tea and the nice chat. We should do that again before I leave."
"I can take your car down to the parking lot before the police would have it towed away," Beth offered. "You're not supposed to park here, you know."
Sarah Jane handed her the keys without hesitation. "Thanks, my dear. Now, Jack, lead on!"
Jack led Sarah Jane through the hidden passageway and down a well-lit corridor; then to a thoroughly modern lift sitting comfortably amongst all the ancient stonework at the end of the corridor. He ushered her into the lift cabin and the lift started to descend, ore quickly than any normal lift would have done. Free fall would have been an apt description.
Sarah Jane could feel Jack secretly watching her reaction. Most people probably found the increasing acceleration nauseating, but she had travelled with the Doctor – with different versions of him, in fact – for quite some time. Such minor inconveniences couldn't bother her anymore – for what was a ride in a quick lift compared with a ride in the out-of-control TARDIS? And she's done that repeatedly.
She counted the levels that flew past rapidly, marked by the interruption of light whenever they past through solid concrete floors. After the seventh level the lift stopped, the doors slid open, and they left the cabin, standing in front of a huge, co-shaped door made of heavy metal.
Jack smiled at her and pushed some buttons on his wrist strap. The cog door rolled back slowly to the wailing of alarm klaxons and flashing of orange lights. Jack stepped through the door, practically dragging her after him – then he turned and gave her a smile full of proprietary pride.
"Welcome to Torchwood, Sarah Jane!
Sarah Jane stared at the sight unfolding before her eyes, and – despite the wonders she'd seen while travelling with the Doctor – she was impressed. The Torchwood base, vaguely reminding one of an underground railway station, was huge. Huge enough to include the subterranean extension of the water tower she'd seen on Roald Dahl Plass, obviously, with the water pouring freely down into the cavernous room and forming a small pool at the tower's base.
High up, under the domed ceiling, some sort of flying creature was drawing its circles, as if hunting.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Jack asked proudly. "Come, let's go to the conference room where we'll be hopefully undisturbed and our doctors can join us to explain you everything as well as they can."
He led her down the spiral staircase, their footsteps reverberating against the metal grid in the huge, empty space. The flying creature, having spotted them from above, swept by with the seed of a small airplane, nearly knocking them off the walkway, but Jack didn't seem concerned.
"Never mind Myfanwy," he said. "She's missing Ianto and taking out her frustration on the rest of us. She's always cranky when Ianto isn't here; but I have just the thing to mellow her mood."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out – a bar of chocolate? Unwrapping it, he tossed it into the air as high as he could and called out to the creature.
"Myfanwy! Dessert time!"
The creature, clearly used to getting such treats from time to time, swept down again like a damp engine, caught the chocolate with its huge, razor sharp beak and returned with its prey to safe heights. However, that second sight had been enough for Sarah Jane to recognize the species.
"Have you just fed chocolate to a pterodactyl?" she asked, completely stunned.
Perhaps he should bring Luke to visit Torchwood Cardiff, after all.
"Pteranodon, actually," Jack shrugged. "But yeah, she is a chocolate addict. Ianto insists that she should only be given dark chocolate, though. It's supposed to be good for her serotonin levels; although our exobiologists are still fighting about the question whether a pteranodon does have serotonin levels or not."
Sarah Jane was still too stunned to do anything else but blink rapidly, for several moments.
"You, Jack… you and your team have redefined the term weird," she finally said.
Jack grinned unrepentantly. "I'll take that as a compliment. Well, here we are – conference room."
He opened a glass door and led her into a surprisingly normal, run-of-the-mill conference room – well, save for the level of technology involved in the wall screen and the other gizmos lying on the various shelves.
Several other people were sitting at the long table, some of whom Sarah Jane had already met, some of whom she recognized and some who were complete strangers. She already knew Martha Jones, of course; ex-companions tended to keep in touch when they lived in the same places at the same time, and besides they'd met at the Brigadier's, right after Martha had been hired by UNIT.
Toshiko Sato, also an ex-companion, was an old friend of course, and the tall, blonde woman in the white lab coat and the bun was Sara Lloyd, with whom she'd made an interview once, way back when Lloyd still had been working for SOCO.
Dr. Emilia Fox was a well-known authority in her field; although they hadn't actually met before, Sarah Jane recognized her from UNIT files and TV-interviews. The dark-haired, wiry young man with the weasel-like face could only be Torchwood Three's chief medical officer. But who the sweet-faced blonde girl with the long ponytail and the black leather jacket could be Sarah Jane couldn't even begin to guess… even though there was something naggingly familiar in her.
"All right, team, say hallo to Sarah Jane Smith, ex-companion and journalist extraordinaire," Jack said. "Sarah Jane, I think you know everyone here, with one exception," he gestured towards the blonde girl. "This is Jenny Smith, our newest addition."
To Sarah Jane's surprise, the girl jumped to her feet and shook her hand enthusiastically.
"Sarah Jane, it's so good to finally meet you in person! Oh, I've heard so much about you!"
For a weird moment Sarah Jane almost had the impression that the girl would ask her for an autograph.
"Later, Jenny," Jack interrupted. "We've got more pressing issues now," he showed Sarah Jane to an empty seat and cut to the core at once.
"As I've already told you, we need the help of an Arcateenian healer – and we need it as soon as possible. Do you think your friend can find us one?"
"Perhaps," Sarah Jane said evasively. "But I won't ask her until I know what's going on."
Jack sighed. "It's Ianto. He suffered a telepathic attack from a previously unknown alien species, and it nearly melted his brain; then, after the connection had been severed, he slipped into coma, of which we can't wake him up. Not without help."
"I see," Sarah Jane fell silent for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure what Arcateenian healers actually can do – the only Arcateenian I know is a star poet, so she hardly counts. But I've already sent an inquiry, and she promised to find somebody on a short notice – which is why I'm here."
She got identical blank looks from the Torchwood people, which made her sigh impatiently.
"Look, my friend can't navigate on Earth on her own. She needs a homing beacon, which this little summoner can provide," she showed them the instrument in question, "and as it's bound to my DNA, no-one else can use it. So I had to come… or the Arcateenian wouldn't, either."
"No one objects to your presence, Sarah Jane," Tosh said gently. "On the contrary; I for my part wouldn't want to face an Arcateenian without you to keep it in its reins."
Sarah Jane looked at her in surprise.
"What kind of problem do you have with the Arcateenians? They're the gentlest people I've ever met!"
"Obviously, you've never run into one of their criminals," Jack said flatly. "Tosh has her reasons to mistrust them; but that's another story for another time. I'll tell you later, I promise. Right now, our main concern should be Ianto."
"Right," Sarah Jane agreed. "Where is he anyway?"
"On the Intensive Care station of St. Helen's," Jack replied. "Tom Milligan is currently keeping an eye of him – not that it would have been any change for a week and a half."
"Do you think we can risk summoning an alien to a public hospital?" Sarah Jane asked doubtfully. "Don't you have a more… secure place that we could use?"
"We do," the Torchwood medic said, "but Flat Holm isn't equipped for the care of coma patients; neither has the staff the necessary qualification. Teaboy's better off with Angie and Milligan."
"Besides, the inmates of Flat Holm are traumatised beyond help already," Jack added with a sigh. "I wouldn't expose them to another alien encounter; not even if the alien in question is friendly."
Sarah Jane knew what Flat Holm was, of course – Jack had told her about it years ago – and had to admit that Jack was right. The last thing the Rift victims needed was another shock that would inevitably call back horrendous memories.
"All right, then," she said, "St. Helen's it is. When can we go there?"
"Night shift would be best," Dr. Harper suggested. "We got Teaboy a private room, but the fewer people are nosing around the better. Since Angie has night shift, she can help us to avoid any unwanted attention."
"And Angie would be…?" Sarah Jane trailed off.
"Angela Connelly, A & E doctor of St. Helen's and Owen's girlfriend," Martha replied.
Dr. Harper shot her a dirty look.
"She's not my girlfriend," he said with emphasis. "We're just friends… with benefits."
"Oh, that's what it's called in these days?" Martha giggled. "I thought it was called 'shagging like bunnies', but I could be wrong."
"Look, lil' Miss Highfaluntin', I understand that you're envious," Dr. Harper was positively fuming. "It must be frustrating, not getting laid, ever, but my sex life is not your concern, so I'd be grateful if you could keep your nose out of it."
Sarah Jane was a little shocked by the Torchwood doctor's rather… rude reaction, but the others didn't seem particularly bothered. Not even Martha, who was just grinning like a maniac.
"Methinks the good Doctor Harper protesteth too much," she said and everyone laughed.
Dr. Harper, realising that he'd lost, scowled at them but refused to rise to the bait.
"All right," Jack said, "night shift it is. In the meantime let's deal with the other stuff. The Rift won't take a vacation, just because Ianto's out of the game for the time being. What about our friend the eraser? Have you found anything useful?"
Lloyd, Martha and Dr. Harper shook their heads in unison.
"Mainframe is still working on mapping the genome," the Torchwood medic reported. "It will take a bloody long time, I'm afraid. The remains of the actual creature were badly burned when Jenny gave it the final treatment, but we did get some undamaged tissue samples nonetheless. I can tell you in advance that there was a great deal of genetic tampering, too, beyond the fact that the organs were removed from the original body and planted into that armour… using methods I can't even imagine, honestly."
"Unless they'd developed a technology to actually grow the armour around the creature," Martha added, looking at Jenny questioningly. Jenny shrugged.
"I'm sorry, but I really don't have any idea. The Hithon are a secretive lot; not even their servants know that much about them. That would create a weakness; and they don't tolerate any weaknesses among their own."
"On the other hand," Lloyd said brightly, "Jenny's DNA analysis has finally run its cycle. I don't think the results would surprise anyone, but I can now officially inform you that she's the genuine item."
"As if there could have been any doubt, seeing the obsession with the bananas and all the running," Jack snorted. "I hope the hard facts will placate Ianto, too, once he's back with us."
"Speaking of which," Dr. Fox said, "What are you planning to do with him, assuming that alien healer can wake him up?"
Jack shrugged. "I'll try to cajole him into taking a few days off – and trust me, that won't be easy – and then we'll be back to business as usual, I guess."
Dr. Fox, however, shook her head. "No, Captain, I doubt that it will be so easy."
"What do you mean?" Jack asked with a frown.
"Mr. Jones will need extensive therapy to deal with the fake memories planted in his head," Dr. Fox elaborated. "Intellectually he'll know and accept that they're fake, but… He's got a photographic memory, which means that the images will remain and haunt him, most likely in the form of violent nightmares, for a long time. Probably for the rest of his life. It won't be easy for him; he'd already got enough nightmare material for several lifetimes. He might snap one day."
"Can't those images be removed somehow?" Sarah Jane asked. "Perhaps an Arcateenian healer is capable of such thing."
"And I'd suggest it, were we talking about someone with a common mind structure," Dr. Fox replied. "But a photographic memory is a delicate thing. I wouldn't tamper with somebody possessing such a gift, unless it's absolutely necessary. One tiny mistake and he could end up permanently brain-damaged. It's just too risky."
Jack nodded, clearly not happy with the news. "Understood. What's your suggestion, then?"
"Providence Park," Dr. Fox replied without hesitation. "They've got the people, they've got the facilities… and I've just happened to be offered to take over as head psychiatrist four days ago. I'm actually considering accepting the offer. And if I do, I can personally oversee Mr. Jones' therapy. And even if I don't, he'll need therapy. In my opinion, that would be the safest solution."
"Perhaps," Jack allowed reluctantly. "The plan has one catch, though – aside from the fact that Ianto would loathe therapy, of course: Gwen is in Providence Park. What if seeing Ianto triggers her memories? She's beaten Retcon before…"
"Only because you were so eager to get in her pants that you messed up the dosage," Dr. Harper muttered nastily.
Jack gave him a challenging glare. "Look who's speaking…"
"I thought we'd all agreed that Suzie'd had a hand in the whole mess," Tosh intervened smoothly. "But Jack's right. Gwen and Ianto in the same psychiatric ward is an epic disaster begging to happen."
"We don't need to hospitalize Mr. Jones," Dr. Fox pointed out. "He could be therapied as an outpatient, twice or three times a week. We can arrange the schedule so that the two would never meet."
"How on Earth did Cooper end up in Providence Park anyway?" Lloyd asked. "I thought we'd sent her back to Swansea, to Tad and Mam, with a convincing story about memory loss due to a head injury."
"We did," Jack replied sourly. "In fact, the story proved so convincing that her parents bought it and decided that she ought to get the best treatment one can find in South Wales."
"Which happens to be in Providence Park," Dr. Harper added. "And since they have enough money to pay for the therapy in the private wing, we couldn't arrange a refusal. We work with Providence Park; unfortunately, we don't own the place."
"Not yet," Jack said, "but I'm working on it."
"What?" the others asked in unison. Jack shrugged.
"Considering how many patients end up there because of the Rift, it would make things a lot easier if we could simply buy it."
"Can we do that?" Dr. Harper asked doubtfully. Jack nodded.
"We can. It's not St. Helen's, it's a private institution, which means it can be sold and bought. In theory anyway."
"And do you have the means to buy an entire clinic like Providence Park?" Dr. Fox sounded less than convinced. Which, considering the overall look of the Hub, wasn't entirely unfounded.
"Oh, yes," Jack said. "Ianto has all the funds of Torchwood London at his – well, our – disposal. As long as he uses them for the purposes of the Institute, he's free to do with them as he sees fit. Buying Providence Park won't be a problem for us; not a financial one anyway."
"If you can talk Teaboy into it," Dr. Harper muttered. "You know how… sensitive he is when it comes to Providence Park. Which is why I don't really think he'd be willing to go there for therapy, either."
Jack nodded grimly. "Who wouldn't be, in his place? But I believe I can persuade him about the soundness of the idea; both ideas, in fact."
"If you don't over-estimate your influence over him," Tosh murmured.
"What does he have against Providence Park?" Martha asked in surprise. "It is the best psychiatric hospital in South-Wales… and beyond, as a matter of fact."
Jack shook his head. "That's… very private. Ask him when he wakes up. Don't except an answer right away, though," he stood. "All right, boys and girls, back to work until night shift. Jenny, you can play catch-up with Sarah Jane in the meantime if you want."
The Torchwood gang filed out of the conference room, returning to their respective workplaces. Jenny came bouncing over to Sarah Jane, her eyes glittering with excitement.
"Jack says you've travelled with my Dad for a long time," she said eagerly. "Do you think you could tell me stories about it? About him?"
For the first time since parting ways with the Doctor, Sarah Jane Smith simply fainted.
When she came to, she was lying on a nondescript bed in a nondescript room – presumably one of the rest rooms for those working late. Jenny was sitting on a stool at her bedside, with a worried expression on her heart-shaped face and a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand.
"Drink this," she said. "It's not as good as Ianto's, of course – the others say that's just not possible – but Beth from the reception brews a decent cup, too."
Sarah Jane wasn't particularly fond of coffee, no matter who'd made it, but at the moment she really felt the need of a caffeine boost, so she accepted the cup. She had to admit that it wasn't half bad indeed.
"Thanks," she said. "I really needed something stronger than tea. How silly of me, fainting life a Victorian lady in distress."
Jenny, clearly confused by the last comment, looked at her in apology.
"It's all my fault," she said. "I shouldn't have sprung it on you without warning. It's just… I was so excited! None of the others knew my Dad before his ninth regeneration, you see, but you… you used to know him much earlier, and for such a long time, and I hoped that you'd tell me more about him. I barely knew him – the most recent him – at all, and…"
"Whoa, slow down a little, my dear!" Sarah Jane couldn't help; she had to laugh over so much excitement. Like a teenager, really!
She gave the girl a closer look, and suddenly understood why Jenny seemed so familiar. She did have the same excitable nature as the Doctor's fourth regeneration – that wide-eyed, curly-hared, grinning Bohemian, the one with the floppy hat and the flowing scarf of the impossible colours – but her blonde hair and gentle features reminded those of the fifth. The one Sarah Jane had only met once in person but had seen images of, courtesy of Harry and the Brigadier.
The one who was said to have been mild-mannered and sensitive, wearing his hearts on his sleeves and actually listening to his conscience for a change. The one she'd have liked to know a lot better.
That it would have been that one to set a child into this uncertain world surprised her a little. And who could possibly have been the girl's mother? Sarah Jane swung her legs over the edge of the bed to face Jenny on more equal terms.
"All right," she said. "I will tell you everything I know about your Dad; and I'll tell you stories. But first you must tell me all about you; how it came to your birth and all that. I never knew the Doctor was into domestic bliss."
Several hours later, when the sun was setting outside, they were still talking. Jenny had told Sarah Jane everything about the planned colonization of the planet Messaline. About the Progenation Machine and how the Doctor – the most recent one – had been "processed" and how he had ended up with a genetically identical "daughter"
She explained how they had ended the Hath-human conflict and how the terraforming device had called her back to life, after all had given her up for dead.
"Dad's already left by then, so he never learned I was alive," she added, a little sadly. "I've been looking for him ever since, but no luck so far."
"He left before your funeral?" Sarah Jane rolled her eyes in exasperation. "How typical for him; he never stays to help pick up the pieces. Had I known this, I'd have slapped him silly – the current him, the one you met – the last time I saw him."
"You've met my Dad, the one he's now?" Jenny was getting excited again. "Who? When?"
"Oh, it must have been at least two or three years – for me anyway, I have no idea when it was for him," Sarah Jane shrugged. "I was working on a case – and apparently, so was he. He was with that dumb blonde girl, what was her name again? Rosie… no, Rose!"
"Rose Tyler; Dad's ultimate nemesis," Jenny said morosely. "The only companion ever who's made him act stupidly… or so the others tell me. A good thing she got trapped in that alternate dimension. She might have destroyed him one day."
"She wasn't with him when you were born… cloned… whatever?" Sarah Jane asked in surprise. Jenny shook her head.
"No; he travels with a redhead named Donna now. I think she's good for him. She doesn't let him get away with much, and she doesn't have a crush on him. I like her," she beamed at Sarah Jane. "She gave me my name, you see? She named me Jenny. It's a good name, don't you think?"
"Sure it is," Sarah Jane didn't ask why this Donna had to be the one to give Jenny a name. The Doctor had probably been too shocked by having suddenly become the father of a fully grown daughter. He'd never dealt well with personal stuff.
"All right," she said. "My turn now. I promised to tell you stories, didn't I? Let me start with the one how we met Harry for the first time. It's a very funny one, starting with your Dad regenerating and…"
~TBC~