A/N: Quick updates today. I'm putting off writing my essay on the production and use of industrial enzymes by writing this. Into the action now, with an OC - Agent John Samson, reporting for duty. He may or may not be important, I can't decide. Don't expect updates to be so quick from now on, I'll have school to get on with and I'm ill right now so I'll be fighting illness to stay in school and not miss work. I'm only having days off if it's swine flu. Or if I get swine flu. Anyways, mini-rant over. Longer chapter now, so enjoy.
Agent John Samson of UNIT was having a bad day.
Obviously, the threat of an alien stealing the Earth's children wasn't great, and the fact that everyone came out of the alien's conference room looked extremely worse for wear dwelled heavily on his mind, but now that that was sorted, it was the bodies in the room he was guarding that was bothering him.
Or rather, the absence of one body. Well, two, but one was standing in front of him, berating him. They'd never taught them how to deal with Lazarus types at the training academy. From what Agent Samson could gather, this man had been a victim of the virus released into the locked-down Thames House, had come back to life and walked out, and saved the Earth by destroying the alien with a high-frequency signal, through what means he did not know.
The drying tears on the man's face were distracting. It must have been at great personal cost. Agent Samson relaxed his white-knuckle hold on his gun, but didn't completely let go – something in the brunette man's eyes made him uneasy, and set his teeth on edge.
"I'll ask you again. Why is Mr. Ianto Jones' body missing from that room? I'm Torchwood, you know, and he belongs to m---"
"Us," the woman with him interrupted, looking at him sharply with doe-like eyes but not putting her heart into the glare. Agent Samson shifted from foot to foot anxiously. The removal of number 14 was classified. He was told by his superiors not to tell anything, and to let the woman who had come through with her squad 'do her job'. It would be high treason to disclose the details.
"I've told you, Captain, sir. That information is classified, even to Torchwood. I can't tell you why number 14 was removed from this facility."
Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood swore fluently and loudly. The woman, whom Agent Samson had already identified as one Gwen Cooper-Williams, stroked his arm reassuringly.
"Jack. The poor lad's only young. Stop being a bloody brute."
Jack looked at her with anguish in his eyes, "Gwen, this is Ianto. Someone has taken him."
Gwen nodded, sliding an arm around him, "I know, pet. But Agent Samson here is only doing his job. You can't blame him for something UNIT refuses to disclose details about." She eyed Agent Samson in a way that made him bristle indignantly. Patronizing woman. These Torchwood types were all the same.
"Sweetheart, would you mind us asking if UNIT is behind this?"
"Yes. I would. I'm extremely sorry for your loss, Miss, but I am not at liberty to tell you where number 14 has been taken. I'm not sure how many times you want me to reiterate this point until you realize I mean it, but honestly, it's getting a little old."
Captain Harkness punched a wall with a curse, "For God's sake, John Samson, will you just step up and give us some semblance of closure here? Number 14 – as you so eloquently named him –" he paused, furious, "Was one of us. Torchwood. As his boss and his lover, I need to know where he has been taken!"
Agent Samson paused, reflecting on this. The American had a point, but that did not stop it from being treason. Of the highest bloody order. UNIT'd have his neck. But something about the lost look behind the anger in Harkness' blue eyes made him pause, and gave him food for thought.
With a sigh, Agent Samson promptly turned his back on Queen and country, and let go of his hold on his gun, swinging it to hang from his back. With one finger, he shushed them, and then turned off his comm. Gwen Cooper-Williams smiled broadly at him, looking excitedly at Captain Jack Harkness, who wiped his eyes of tears before noticing that Agent Samson had switched over to just being John Samson.
"This will have to be quick. You realize what I'm doing here."
"Committing treason, of course. You're our kind of guy, Agent Samson." The American grinned, the anger in his eyes replaced with hope.
"Please, I'm not Agent Samson right now. Call me John."
"John," Gwen smiled, "Thank you. Can you tell us at least who took him?"
"Number 14 – Mr. Ianto Jones, of Torchwood – was taken out by a woman just two hours ago. Well, obviously, not just a woman, she couldn't carry a body that tall, but a woman and her team."
Harkness' forehead creased in worry, "Can you tell us anything of note about this woman?"
"Had the brightest red hair I've ever seen. And these strange black markings on her skin…like tattoos. Tribal, almost. Said her name was Agent Catharine, and that was all I needed to know."
Gwen frowned, looking at John in a way that made him wonder how she'd ended up having that old look set in her eyes, "Thanks, John."
John swung his gun back around, turned his comm back on, and saluted, "I'm glad to have been of service, ma'am. I'm glad you understand that that information is classified."
Jack smirked, saluting back, "Nice to meet a man who sticks to his guns."
And with that, the Torchwood pair departed, no doubt off to search for answers, leaving Agent Samson to wonder at what he had just done.
