A/N: Dragged you all back in didn't I? (: Well, here is a bumper chapter, longer than most, based on the song 'Changes' by Will Young, cause I love him. Story arc 2 is certainly going to be longer than story arc 1, as we have two new additions to the Torchwood personnel. It was really hard to write them in this particular chapter, because I can't really develop them a lot at this stage, so I apologize if they come across Mary-Sue-ish, I promise they won't be that way for long. They play a big part in this arc. Also, you're all very good at speculating what is wrong with Cath; at the moment there are two paths she could take, but I haven't yet decided. Anyways. Yeah. Enjoy this, as I'm likely to be busy with history coursework, english coursework, and art coursework. The joys of GCSE life. (: Thanks for staying with this, returning reviewers, you guys are awesome.
"I wonder whether they have any clue what they're getting into," Gwen mused from the back seat, leaning forward so that her head was in between Jack and Ianto's seats. She noticed that they glanced at each other for a moment, a flicker of amusement in their eyes.
"Did any of us?" Jack said, searching her face in earnest, but keeping his driving perfectly normal. It had always freaked her out how he could do that – perhaps it was from living so long. Of course, now Ianto would be the same...
She felt the cold feeling spreading in her insides, and tried desperately to ignore it. They'd told her the facts – that Ianto wouldn't age, and couldn't be killed – and honestly, it scared her. She wasn't scared for herself, but for the younger man; far too much had happened to him in the 25 years he'd lived. 25 years isn't enough of life, Gwen thought silently, for him to be okay with not changing anymore.
Gwen sighed, and looked up, surprised to see Ianto staring at her sadly, a look on his face as if to say, 'I know.' A voice surfaced, quiet in her head, the voice of the man looking into her eyes.
I can hear you, you're thinking so loudly. And you're right. But don't tell Jack.
Somehow Ianto's presence in her mind didn't alarm her; she'd known he was more psychically trained than she or Jack were, from reading the papers he'd received from the Basement. She nodded minutely, willing her voice to carry to his mind, too. Torchwood had a small amount of psychic training in the beginning, but relied nowhere near as heavily on it as the Officials seemed to.
And, so much quieter than his voice, but there nevertheless, she felt hers travel.
Okay.
"Okay, kids, we're here," Jack called, and Gwen slumped back in her seat, exhausted mentally from the effort. She felt the baby nudge her tentatively, and stroked her bump, more to sooth her frazzled nerves than the child growing inside her. Ianto turned back to Jack, and she noted that he didn't even look fazed from communicating with her. Ianto was new all over, nowadays, the strongest of all of them, and she wondered whether that was a good thing.
As they left the SUV and headed towards the Safeway beyond which the Basement lay, Ianto took her hand, and squeezed it, saying in a whisper so quiet she couldn't be sure he'd even said it, "I wish I knew."
He watched her sleeping awhile in the isolation room before he left to meet the Torchwood personnel. It always amused him how she was so different when she was asleep – she reverted to the tiny, gasping angel they'd brought back to life on that cold steel table so long ago.
How long had it been, exactly? He counted in his head – years were irrelevant to those who did not age, but she had been 20 when she'd been brought back. It was a very long time ago…20, maybe 25 years?
25 years. Such a long time, and nothing had gone wrong with her. Why now?
He turned, shifting into his non-descript human form, and headed up the stairs to the Safeway room, opening the door and waiting. He could hear the Torchwood team approaching, even with his hearing dimmed by human ears. That new SUV of theirs made enough racket to announce their presence to anyone with a brain.
The old SUV had been recovered, not without a certain amount of help from the Basement, and when they'd recovered it, they'd found the hubcaps missing, the paintjob scratched, and knobs drawn on the windows, but miraculously none of the alien tech disturbed. They helped the Torchwood team to shift all of their equipment into the new SUV, and rewire it all, then had aided in the disposal of the old one.
After prying the back doors open with his bare hands, Ianto had grinned, "Well, there's your problem. They couldn't open these doors, could they? The deadlock is alien tech." And then Captain Jack Harkness had grinned and sighed in relief, kissing the ex-Official lightly in thanks.
Learner whistled absently, a human habit he'd picked up. He wondered whether Ianto Jones was happier now. He wondered whether Captain Jack Harkness could measure up to him.
And when they arrived, he wondered how a woman like Gwen Cooper-Williams had ever gotten involved with an organization like Torchwood. She was clearly pregnant, and he smiled in spite of himself; she did look very good with it. She had the kind of face that implied a certain level of friendliness, but the look in her eyes was guarded.
"Ah, you must be Learner. It's nice to finally meet you properly…last time I saw you you were jumping off a roof. I'm Gwen, I work with Jack and Ianto at Torchwood," she said brusquely, extending a hand. Learner shook it warmly, studying the laugh lines that still showed on her face, despite living through an international crisis like the 456.
"Mrs. Cooper-Williams. Yes, it's nice to meet you. No doubt I look different to when I last saw you with your husband?" he joked, then cursed inwardly. Spending so much time as a human was making him lose his detached nature.
Once he'd shaken her hand and led them all into the Basement, he shifted back seamlessly. He saw Gwen's eyes widen briefly, then her face return to normal. Interesting.
"We've got a lot of suitable people, Captain Harkness. Some are medics, some are computer specialists, some are both – none of them know why they're here. I'm just going to show them my real form, to weed out the weaklings, and then I'll leave you with the rest," Learner said offhandedly, and turned as they reached the room containing the applicants. Captain Harkness gave a short nod, and replied, "Please, go ahead."
Studying the captain's face with his heightened white eyes, he found apprehension and sadness, as if finding new operatives was nothing short of treason. Learner shrugged it off, and entered the room.
He had a different approach; that much was clear. Ianto snorted as four potentials fainted and the rest stiffened. He studied each face to see who would calm down first; surprisingly, a petite blonde woman, and a dark, curly-haired man pulled their masks of calm on again first. Ianto glanced at Jack – the older man had noticed this too, and exchanged a small smile with him.
"Well, we'll have to Retcon the humans who have fainted," Learner said, in what could have been a joking way. Ianto raised an eyebrow, "Oh, joy."
Learner soon shifted the unconscious potentials out of the room, and Jack, Ianto and Gwen looked at the remaining few. There were about eight people left; it wouldn't take long.
Sighing, Ianto moved to form a triangular huddle with his coworkers, "So how do we want to do this?"
"One by one, them with us in a room. We need a friendly-looking room just to relax them, to be honest. How many medics are there, and how many nerds are there?" Jack quipped, with an easy smile.
Gwen nudged him, then straightened up, asking the eight, "How many of you are here to be interviewed for a medical position?" As if on cue, half raised their hands. Gwen whistled through her teeth, turning back to the two men, "Couldn't have worked out better, boys. Which shall we do first?"
Ianto sighed, "It's Jack's call," he looked at Jack expectantly, "though I would go with medics. That's the main thing the Basement is worried about."
Learner had returned to the room in human form, and was leaning against the wall, arms folded. Ianto's eyes narrowed a fraction at the casualness of his posture, then questioned, "Where can we interview these people?" The alien smiled, "The white room, Ianto. There's been a few modifications, you'll find."
Ianto turned back to Jack, and saw that his lover's face was in a similar grimace to his own. They both had unpleasant memories of that room, and he noticed that Gwen looked sympathetic, rubbing their shoulders comfortingly. She took over, "Right. Medics, with us. Computer technicians, stay here with Mr. Learner. Learner, can we have the medics' files?"
He dutifully handed them to Ianto, and the three of them headed down the corridor, Ianto leading, with the four potential operatives trailing behind, the petite blonde in front.
He sighed softly, and felt Jack take his free hand and squeeze it. Somehow, it made him feel a little bit better, like nothing had changed after all.
"Right...first up, Daria Morris," Jack called, leaning out from the white room to look at the candidates seated on the chairs outside. The blonde stood up, dusted herself off calmly, and followed Jack in.
Now, Daria had not been living in Cardiff for a very long time. In fact, the mysterious government round-up of children had been her first strange event to witness there. Of course, she'd dutifully called home to Germany, asking after her younger brother Walter, and found that they did not want him, after all – something about him being too old, at 15.
She'd dismissed it for a while, looking out of the window of her terraced house on the estate, until she'd seen Johnny Davies from next door and a cute police officer fighting army officers. That was strange. And stranger still was the dark-haired woman running for the hills with a horde of children in tow. That was stranger still.
At that point, Daria came outside, and decided to give Johnny and the police officer a hand. Needless to say, there were still healing grazes on her knuckles, and a faint shadow across one cheekbone was fading fast. Her split lip was healed over, but left a pale, just barely visible scar across her lips, stretching onto her palate and chin.
Oh, and she'd found out the police officer's name, and phone number. He was taking her out again next week.
"So…Daria," the American began. Daria awoke from her thoughts to see blue eyes, staring her down, "we have it down here that you were charged with assault on a armed officer. Can you tell us a bit about that?"
She couldn't resist a snort of derision, but idly hoped they wouldn't notice her slight accent when she began to speak, "I pleaded guilty early, and therefore avoided a prison sentence. I was made to pay compensation to the officer in question rather than a fine because I admitted to what I'd done, and openly. I think you can see he did a fair amount of damage, too," she noticed the quiet Welsh man laugh, "but as they say, you should see the other guy."
She studied them while they deliberated on what to ask her next, surprised by her honesty. She'd gathered that the American was the leader of the group, but there was something strange about the other man, and the way his eyes were carefully guarded. She turned away from him, and looked at the woman. Daria's eyes met hers, and the woman smiled briefly; it was a kind smile, and Daria felt she'd enjoy working with her, if she got the job.
"You have experience dealing with serious injuries, it says here. You've worked in the A&E departments in Germany and the UK, and apparently you've got a high success rate in surgeries," the younger man said, with a small smile, "all by the tender age of 26. How is that possible?"
God. Always the same in interviews. "I was lucky. Unless I'm mistaken, my CV should say where and when I was educated for my medical career, and how."
The young man smiled wider, "You're correct. Sorry, just winding you up."
"Miss Morris, what do you think this job is? Who we are?" the woman questioned, her hands clasped together on the mahogany desk. Ah, the big question, Daria thought, taking her time and looking around the room. The walls were white, the furniture mahogany, and the floor was thick burgundy shag pile. Her heels had buried themselves quite sufficiently in it, and so she crossed one leg over the other to save her dignity when she stood up again.
"Well…after watching the governments of the world trying to round up peoples' children, I'd guess that you were some of the people trying to stop it. I recognize you, now," she said, gesturing to the woman, "I helped my neighbour and boyfriend fight off the officers you were running from." Here the younger man frowned, "Who's your neighbour?"
"Johnny and Rhiannon Davies, and their children," Daria answered, and the younger man laughed in surprise, exclaiming, "That's my sister and her husband!"
The American shushed them irritatedly, "Answer the question."
Daria started to answer, but the woman stopped her, "Is your boyfriend Police Constable Andy Davidson?" She nodded, and laughed as the woman did, too, "I'm his old partner, PC Gwen Cooper-Williams! Fancy that, eh, Jack?"
Finally, a name to the face. Daria looked at Jack intently and said, "I think this job will open far more horizons to me than I ever dreamed of, back in Munich. I don't think that you are from a government organization – I'd be able to tell a lot about you by now, you'd have reacted more to the way I speak so freely. You're all very closed-off in your mannerisms, you're very professional, like you have a lot of secrets," she sighed, looking at each of them in turn, "I just think that this would be beyond anything I've ever done before, and I'd love a chance to look after your team while you do whatever it is you do, which I think must be very unusual, for these interviews to be so confidential. Correct me if I'm wrong."
A smile flickered onto the face of the American, and he looked at Gwen and the younger man, "Can we keep her? She's precious."
Relief washed over Daria briefly, before Gwen said, "But don't you think we should interview the other medics, just in case?"
The younger man studied Daria in a way that felt extremely personal, as if he was looking through her, "I think Jack's right. She's got that way. Same way that you had, Gwen, when we recruited you."
Jack stretched out his hand, and it made her feel like crying. She placed her hand in his, and warmth flooded her fingertips, "Welcome aboard, Daria. Welcome to Torchwood."
Well, they're quick to pick their recruits, Learner mused, somewhat smugly.
It was an elaborate set-up, certainly, but it had worked. They'd picked the right medic in Blondie, the one he and Cath had both wanted them to pick, and now all that was left was for them to pick the final operative.
He watched as the three un-interviewed medics trailed back into the room, and the four remaining trailed out. He kept his eye on the dark, curly-haired man – they would surely pick him. They wouldn't be able to resist; Learner could feel it in his bones. And judging by how the man's gaze had flickered up to meet Learner's, so could he.
He led the medics into the next room, where he had carried the potentials who had fainted, and smiled at them, as he locked the door quietly, "Please, take a seat. You'll understand if we have to make you forget all of this, right?"
The three sat down, and immediately the gags snapped over their mouths, wrists and ankles on the high-backed chairs, halting any protests in their tracks. He smiled again, showing teeth, "Not that you have a say. This might pinch a bit."
There was a large screen mounted on the wall at the front of the room, where he would play the video. It was a very specific way of removing memories, better than Retcon. This would remove the memories to do with the interviews from the past months; all it needed was a keyword, already imbedded in the potentials' brains, to function. He tapped it in from a keyboard at the back of the room, and smiled.
He flicked the screen on, and listened as the screaming began.
"Right…Can we have Charlton Harrison, please?" Gwen called into the corridor, as their third interviewee left. The calm, curly-haired man stood, excusing himself from his friendly conversation with Daria, seated outside with a copy of Vogue in her grasp. He followed Gwen into the room after straightening his suit.
She took her seat in between Jack and Ianto, and smiled reassuringly at the man as he took his seat opposite them. He returned the smile, and ran a hand across his cheek, dark with stubble, before they began the interview.
He was quiet and polite, but with a strange solidness to him, as if he was more real than anyone else. He spoke with the mannerisms of someone older, so she guessed his parents were probably old-fashioned. He seems like the type to open doors for people, she thought, and smiled, surprisingly fond of him already.
The type of man mothers like, she mused, taking in his tanned skin and startling green eyes. He had a slightly large nose, she noticed, though somehow this made him look more likeable, and less conventional. But there was something off about him. Something very familiar, something they'd experienced before. Breathing in, her eyes widened. She smelt fudge. Just like before. She sat forward in her chair, stopping Charlton mid-flow.
"Charlton, this is a strange question for me to ask you, so please forgive me if I'm mistaken," she began, narrowing her eyes a little to gauge his reaction, "but are you from…around here?" She put a strange kind of emphasis on the words; clearly he wasn't from Wales, because he spoke with a posh London accent, but she had a feeling that wasn't what was strange about him.
She watched as Charlton's eyes flickered in recognition of her meaning, and he started, "Oh. You mean…?" She nodded silently. The young man looked at her with a kind of sadness in his eyes, "Do you think I'm insane?"
Ianto gasped quietly at her side; she glanced at him to see his flint-grey eyes boring into hers, "No. It can't be."
Minutely, Gwen nodded, "I think so. Jack, Charlton isn't…from here. Like you, or Diane…"
She watched as realization dawned on the captain, and he gaped, "Oh, damn. You've gotta be kidding. Gwen, how could you tell?" Gwen shrugged, "I smelt fudge in the air around him. Same as when we had Diane, John, and Emma-Louise. It fades, but when I first met them, it was all I could notice. It was a gamble," she smiled at Charlton, "but apparently it's a surefire sign, for me."
Jack sighed, "Charlton, this is a crazy question too, but…what year were you born, exactly?"
"I was born on the 22nd of January, 1901, the day Queen Victoria died," the young man said, quietly, reservedly, "I was a conscientious objector, like my father, during the Great War – of course, that wouldn't matter, I was too young to be affected by conscription, but that war lit a fire in my belly, regardless," here he laughed, and Gwen frowned, "When I was fifteen, in the summer of 1916, I was walking home during the daytime from a friend's house, and the street was completely empty. Then the sky lit up and I was still in London, but everything was different. I looked at a newspaper in a bin and it said the year was 2000. I thought I was crazy."
Jack winced, but questioned, "Do you know anything about how you got to be in the future?"
"No," Charlton answered, folding his arms and sighing, leaning back in his seat, "You can imagine I was rather confused, and upset. I was taken in by a woman passing by, who I now see as my second mother. She asked me my name and where my parents were, and I told her my name, but that I didn't know where my parents were. She adopted me – and the rest is history, as they say."
There was a heavy pause as Jack and Ianto digested the information, but Gwen was already itching to ask another question, "Charlton, how did you come to learn about computers?"
Here, he smiled back at her, and she found herself smiling, too, "Practice. I was lucky to be brought here when they were just starting out. Everyone has something they like to lose themselves in, and mine is computers. I felt quite proud of myself, a boy from a time long gone, better at using modern devices than children born in this era. It just came naturally."
Gwen looked at Jack and Ianto, who were sharing a look of deep thought with each other. She wondered whether Ianto was communicating silently with Jack, and whether Jack could reply. Finally, the pair looked at Charlton, and Jack said, "Well. This leaves us with no choice, really. Charlton, we'd like to offer you a position with us. As a person displaced from your own time, this would offer you more protection from other organizations funded by the government that might like to return you to your own era."
"You mean UNIT," Charlton offered, with a smile, "I hacked into their system a while ago. Their security is lax, at best."
"Well, them, and others. London is out of our jurisdiction, as we deal with Cardiff anomalies, but you don't seem to have done any harm to the time stream. It looks as though your displacement was a purposeful event, or we – myself and my old team – would have had some indication at our base when you were actually moved," Jack explained, with a grin, "Would you like to find out more?"
"Of course. Thank you for your kindness and understanding," Charlton said, standing and proffering his hand, "And please, call me Charlie."
Charlie, Gwen thought, and smiled at her colleagues. This didn't feel like the old team, but it felt like a new one.
