AN: Guest Appearance of TW3, and introducing another higher-race-alien-with-issues. ;) Enjoy!


Ten – New Torchwood

Sic ego nec sine te nec tecum vivere possum. (Thus, I can neither live without you nor with you.) – Ovid, Amores:III:XI-b:39

May 20, 2009

Ianto was flipping idly through a copy of Astronomy Now, snickering whenever he read something he knew now to be false thanks to meeting Rakata as the door chime rang. Not looking up, he called, "Sorry," he shot the visitor, the sign on the door and then the clock on the wall (0115 hrs) a look, "we're closed," and then went back to his magazine. Just then, the visitor held a seemingly blank card into his line of sight. The effect on the Welsh was immediate: As if someone had pulled his string, he got upright and was all flustered efficiency right away. "Excuse me, madam. This way." Reaching out, he hit the button to open the door to the hub.

10

Standing around the victim, Jack held up a driver's license. "Documents on the body identify the victim as Meredith Roberts."

Owen waved his head at the dead body. "No obvious signs of any violence."

Gwen frowned. "Are we saying it wasn't the Weevil?"

"Give me a chance, Constable Cooper. I've only just started," the medic defended.

But their bickering was cut short as Rakata looked up. "Ianto is coming."

On cue, the Welshman's voice sounded over the intercom, "Jack, your VIP visitor is here."

"I didn't realise we were having a visitor," Tosh interjected from her station as the others passed her on the way to the cogwheel door. Judging from Rakata's and Jack's smile, it must be someone unusual.

Alarms blaring, the heavy door and the barred door opened. "Suddenly, in an underground mortuary, on a wet night in Cardiff, I hear the song of a nightingale," Jack intoned, smiling widely. Martha! he sent. Or is it Walker already?

Jack. The Walker stepped through the entrance, her stance confident and sure. I had my viewing already, thank you.

"May I introduce: The Walker," the Torchwood director finished. Congratulations.

As the door rolled closed behind Ianto and the Time Lady, Owen finally managed to find his voice again. "What kind of name is The Wal– ouch! Rakatiel!"

The Antarian (now, given her hair, dressed as an old punk) had stepped on his foot. "It's a title-name Doctor Sarcasm. She's a Gallifreyan Time Lady. Aren't you."

"Yep." The dark-skinned Londoner smiled. "Where did you find yourself a full Space Weaver, Jack?"

"She crashed into Tiger Bay," he chuckled. "Anyway, Walker, meet Toshiko, Owen, Gwen, Ianto and Rakatiel."

Martha laughed. "Oh, it's good to see you again, Jack."

"Just a casual visit or…?" Owen trailed off. If I get one more 'higher-species' alien here, I'll scream.

"I'm here to complete your post-mortem," the healer clarified, pushing past the Torchwood team to the mortuary/med bay area.

Owen had a difficult time forming a coherent sentence as he followed the Gallifreyan. "Jack, why is she here?"

"The Walker is associated with UNIT," the immortal threw in casually.

Ianto had to fight a bad case of déjà vu, remembering an old colleague from Torchwood London. It can't be Adeola, so… wait, maybe she's… Martha? Martha Jones.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sorry, I get a bit confused. Which one's UNIT?" Gwen asked. There are way too many acronyms out there.

"Intelligence, military, cute red caps. The acceptable face of intelligence gathering on aliens. We're more ad hoc. But better looking." Jack shrugged. "United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. U-N-I-T. What put this on the Time Lord radar?"

"A visit to Sir Alistair for tea. Courier came in and informed the General on a series of seemingly random deaths. But I found a pattern." Shrugging off her silver-grey duster coat, she pulled on a lab coat and accepted a pair of gloves Raka handed her. "Many thanks. All of them died from toxic shock. Nothing to link the victims. Different ages, sexes, ethnic origins, occupations. But there was a statistically significant concentration in South Wales, especially around Cardiff."

"Come on, Walker, be honest. You just came all this way to see me," Jack teased good-naturedly.

"Still struggling to conquer your shyness, Jack?" the Walker joked back. "By the way, Theta Sigma said to remind you of that Black Hole he promised in case you went overboard again."

Both Raka and Ianto laughed. "No need to worry, milady," Raka chuckled. "I don't think he likes to break his vows to us."

"So what about this pattern, then, Milady Walker?" Owen cut in, annoyed.

Martha's eyes roamed over the body, starting with the toes and ending with the eyes, noticing a 'knot' in its timelines – the cause of death began there. Like in the others. "They were being written off as suicides or accidents. Look. Puncture mark." She showed him the small mark in the right eye, under the lower eyelid. "Hypodermic needle. You'll find his blood full of ammonium hydroxide."

"Bloodstream. That was the thing I was going to do next," the human medic grumbled.

"I know you've just started, so no worries." Still staring at the body, the Walker tentatively started to listen to its history, knowing all too well that using Ear of Chronos caused headaches in novices. "Have you checked his medical records yet?"

"Err, No. I was just about to." Owen groaned internally, registering the snickers of his colleagues.

Now the grin on the Walker's face grew positively smug as she turned to face him, the eyes brimming with knowledge. "Well, let's give it a go. You never know, Owen, you might learn something."

"Yeah, yeah." Owen left his duty station and stepped beside Tosh, followed by the rest of the flock. "Can you give me his records, please?"

"Already on it. Here you go." Said file from the Royal Cardiff Infirmary Records popped up on a screen, stating that their victim was Meredith Roberts, Date of Birth 11-01-1962. Nothing more.

"One Meredith Roberts, age 45."

"I know there's been a major crash on the NHS system. Wiped a shed load of files," the computer expert explained.

"Including all the victims we flagged up from the UNIT data. And now yours," Martha mused. Come on, Toshiko, you can do it. Theta saw it, and so can you.

The Japanese's eyebrows shot up. "A computer crash wouldn't delete data so cleanly. This is deliberate. Let me look into it."

Perfect. "Good idea. I'll catch up with you later," the Time Lady promised, noticing Jack hushing into his office.

"Sure."


"How's your family?" Jack asked the young Time Lady as she entered.

"They're fine. Sending their love. Mum's still smarting from her last face off with the Professor, but otherwise, they're fine," the Walker answered, smiling.

"Give them mine. So, End of the World Survivors Club."

"Rassilon, I am so glad to see you, Jack!" Martha laughed, sitting down.

"See, you did come all this way just to see me. It's the jaw line. Once seen, always yearned for," he teased, earning another laugh.

"Watch it, Captain. Don't want that beautiful sheeran (princess) and pretty office manager of yours get angry with you," she shot back.

"Touché. How are the president and vice-president of the club?"

"Fine enough. The Professor is doing Rassilon knows what, we're back to travelling, and before I forget it…" Out of her own endless pockets, she produced an envelope. "Valid for you and any number of company you see fit."

"So you've set a date! Good for you. Even considering your speech is getting more and more like his." Grinning, Jack checked the invitation written in the alien hand of his old friend. Even the English translation on the back carried the unmistakable accent of the calligraphic version of his native script, Circular Gallifreyan. "So where is he? I asked for both of you after all." A thought occurred to him. "Are you two still travelling alone?"

"No-pe. We do have a companion. Donna Noble. Ginger, bit older than human me, all lip and spitfire. Reminds me of the Professor, just a lot less confident at times. And she's also the reason he's not here yet. He's dropping her off at home; her mother, Sylvia, has broken her index finger and is driving Donna's gramps up the walls," the healer recounted.

"Ouch. Sounds nasty."

"I don't think he'll linger. Mrs Noble is worse than my mum. Way worse."

At that thought, Jack shuddered. At least Raka is predictable in what ticks her off. "How did you two meet her?"

"Technically, she went looking for him. She was that runaway bride who helped him with the Racnoss. I think you have the other incident on file too – ran into her the next time while shutting down Adipose Industries," Martha explained.

"Wait, wait. That bride? Oh boy. You're in for a wild ride, if what he told me during the year is any indicator."

"And then some." The Walker grinned. "She keeps our heads on straight. And it's never boring, that's for sure."

"So. You passed your Viewing. Inspired or Runner, Milady?" he asked slyly.

"I'm the Doctor's intended, Jack. What else but a Runner could seriously take that position? Anyway. You don't have to call me Milady you know. My status is more like a loomling." She lifted an ironic eyebrow. "Of course, you just have to follow my lead without question, just like you would follow his."

Getting to his feet, he mock-bowed. "Yes, Milady, whatever you say, milady."

"Leave it!" she laughed.

"I can imagine." Shaking his head, he turned to a more serious tune. "Are you really alright with me? It can't be comfortable for an initiate to deal with me."

"Compared to my first fixed point, that is, the fall of Pompeii, you're more of a discomfort, Jack." The young woman flashed him a smile. "And as Theta said before, I value your friendship higher than my creature comforts."

The smile the immortal gave back conveyed how touched he was by her choice. "How about a ten-pence-tour then?"

"Lead the way, Group Captain."

10

"So that's the hot house. Tour continues this way, ladies, please. No dawdling," Jack ordered, only to be defied by both the Walker and Gwen.

"Um, so, you know Jack pretty well, then?" the Welsh asked hesitantly.

"Oh, we were only together for… a few days. But it was pretty intense," the Time Lady mused.

Gwen's eyes widened. "You mean…?"

"Oh, God, no! No, not that sort of intense. Nothing like that. Besides, I'm engaged." She frowned. "Why? Have you…?"

"No, no, not at all," the brunette pedalled back.

"We must be among the only people this side of Antares."

"I know. What are we doing wrong?" Gwen joked, earning a laugh.

"In my case, it's the very real fact that my betrothed is somewhat the jealous type," the Walker chuckled.

"And you don't mind?"

Martha smiled, somewhat dreamily. "He's very easy on the mind's eye. As well as on the actual eyes."

Jack came back. "Oi, you talking about me?"

"Nope. Just Thete," the Walker declined with a smirk.

"Really." He scoffed a little. "Where is the founder of the 'Last of the Time Lords club' anyway?"

"He should be here any moment."

On cue, a grinding, wheezing sound, like badly oiled metal gears and scraping a piano string with a key announced the other VIP visitor. All of this was accompanied by an unnatural wind blowing down into the hub, coming in through Myfanwy's tunnels and the cracks around the slab of stone that made the Invisible Lift, causing Jack, the Walker and Rakata to look up with similarly knowing smiles and scattering paperwork everywhere. "It's been a while since I saw a TARDIS," she explained to Ianto, who sent her his puzzlement at her expression. "You'll see. Jack's going to have the shock of the month when he sees where our guest has parked."

"I think it's hard to top your *cleave a warehouse in half*, beautiful," the Welshman replied, picking up his files.

Gwen was, frankly speaking, bogeyed. "That's the same noise as when Jack ran off to find his Doctor."

Cue in Toshiko, yelling for the boss. "Jack! You have to see this!"

"Oh boy, what is it… you have got to be kidding me," he muttered as he saw just where the TARDIS just had materialised: Directly on the invisible lift. Stuck somewhere between miffed, amused and annoyed, Jack approached the lift platform and activated it, bringing the Doctor and his ship down into the hub. "Doctor! We need that lift!"

The tall Time Lord strode nonchalantly out of his ship, an eyebrow lifted. "Well, Jack, I wouldn't have to park on your visitor's entrance – which exists thanks to yours truly anyway – if you would lower the damn anti-teleportation defences. Who encoded them anyway, an Antarian?"

"As a matter of fact I did, My Lord Doctor," Raka grinned. "I am Rakatiel."

There is something about her… oh. "You're a Space Weaver! Brilliant!" he exclaimed excitedly. "How come?"

"Rift Crash. Enough said. Allow me? I'll teleport her to the hangar." The Antarian made a gesture towards the ship.

"By all means." He smiled as the Antarian wove a small energy web around Idris in order to not distress the TARDIS with the impending teleportation. "So you have a hangar now, Jack?"

"Well, she had to. We might have a lot of workspace, but an Antesia class Space Weaver ship was not within our range. And leaving that kind of tech out in the open is too dangerous…" While Jack described just as enthusiastically how Rakatiel had used a few architecture cryst-seeds to dig and build/grow a giant hangar/dry-dock for her ship extending right under Cardiff Bay, the rest of the team was stunned – the person their boss had asked for help was no-one less but the very one their organisation was founded against (and now for, given the recent amendment of the Torchwood Charter): The Doctor. Moreover, they seemed to be the best of friends, judging from the hug the two men finally greeted each other with (all the polite things out of order). The next moment, the Doctor's enthusiasm skyrocketed again as he spotted Myfanwy, who had just returned from her evening out. Finally, he greeted the Walker with a gentle kiss.

Gwen turned to the only person other than the Walker and the dematerialising Raka not stunned by this entire thing – Ianto. "How come that you're not shocked? I mean, he is the very guy Torchwood was founded against, isn't he?"

"If what Raka and Jack shared with me is even remotely true, then Earth owes him and his family its continued existence so many times over we'd be paying off the debt forever. Besides, Jack got the Torchwood Charter amended, so we're not against him anymore, but his stand-ins essentially, since our boss is an ex-Time-Agent," the young man shrugged, turning to the kitchen. "Coming? Jack has said they like a spot of tea once in a while."

The Torchwood security chief sighed and shook her head, following him. "I wonder what else our resident alien and Time Agent told you about our universe."

"I don't have the words for it, Gwen."


After a bout of poking fun at Owen's inability to tune a tool he'd dubbed "singularity scalpel" – and getting told by Rakata that it was essentially one, just not meant for human hands yet – Ianto sounded the alert, glaring at the medic for being the near-miss victim again. "Jack, Doctor, Walker. There's been another attack. Assault with a hypodermic. Only this time, the victim survived. Woman, aged 27. She's in the hospital." To his surprise, the Doctor fell in step with him, and sensing a question, he collected himself and continued, "Medical records wiped, just like the others."

Since using the SUV with so many people was out, Torchwood Three split up, with Jack taking the Chronarchs by vortex manipulator and Raka taking the rest by teleportation, but whatever the manner of transport, they arrived in mere moments at the A&E of the University Hospital of Wales, there to check on the newest victim, Marie. Who was duly confused by Torchwood's appearance, or existence for the matter (which made one wonder how long she'd lived in Cardiff; they were bloody Torchwood after all!). While the Walker drew some blood and the Doctor scanned her subtly, she expressed said confusion. "But the doctors said they'd finished with me."

"We're a bit different," the Time Lady explained, putting away the two blood samples.

"We know this is tough on you, Marie. But did you recognise the man who attacked you?" Gwen inquired.

More confusion. "I already told the police."

"We're different from them, too," Jack added, leaning forward.

"No, I never seen him before." Marie shook her head.

"Did he say anything in the course of the attack?" Gwen pressed further.

"No."

"Open wide," the Doctor ordered gently, taking two swabs.

"Look, he just, he came towards me with a great big bloody needle, didn't he?" she whimpered. "You know, my dog bit him and then I kicked him in the nuts."

Jack bellowed a laugh. "Respect!"


Back at the Hub, the Doctor headed back to the TARDIS, a set of samples in hand. "I'll check these for temporal-spatial anomalies and the likes."

"Okay. Just don't try to explain to anyone but Jack or Rakatiel what you found in detail, otherwise, you'll be going all timey-winey and spacey-wacey again!" the Walker called after him.

Don't worry, lairelai.

I always do, that's my job, Theta.

"Timey-wimey and spacey-wacey," Owen managed after the tall Time Lord had disappeared in the direction of the hangar. "Are those even words?"

"Bad translation. And the only ones here speaking Gallifreyan, besides me, are Jack and your own resident alien. There aren't any proper words in human languages for these things." She shrugged. "Shall we?"

Smiling, the Torchwood doctor nodded, leading the way to the hothouse/biolab. "Yes, we shall." After analysing their samples to the sounds of the Gorillaz song Feel Good Inc, the two healers, human and Gallifreyan, leaned against the lab table, mulling over the results. "So you and Jack go back a long way?" he asked finally.

"Forward and back, really. But you've seen the reason."

"Yeah. Still don't quite get my head wrapped around that part – Jack, as in Group Captain Torchwood Director Jack Harkness, knows The Doctor."

"The Doctor knew him before I did, actually. And the man you know now as Jack… let's say you have to thank the Doctor for turning him away from being a time-travelling con artist." She grinned. "He tends to have that effect on people."

"What brought you together? You and Jack; I mean, everyone here knows by now Jack's been looking for him all these years." Owen had hoped to flirt with the Time Lady, but even one sentence in front of the Doctor had earned him a glare that only Rakatiel and Jack could match in ferocity. It had been like looking into the heart of a storm.

"A trip to the end of the universe and a psychopath," she answered mysteriously, leaving Owen sufficiently puzzled. "These killings – why the ammonium hydroxide? It's a weird way to kill someone."

The human shook himself. "Yeah, Yeah, it's gross. It's like injecting them with bleach."

A thought occurred to her, quick as a flash. "Unless… the objective isn't just killing."

Picking up the trail of thought, Owen added, "It's destroying something in the victim's bloodstream."

"Someone is getting rid of evidence!" she finished.

10

With the tests finished, the team and their guests gathered in Jack's office. "Locally, we've got a murder victim and a survivor. Both attacked with hypodermics, both with their medical records wiped."

"And more cases across the UK. We think the point of the attacks is to destroy evidence of their medical condition," the Walker added.

"Agreed. Time signatures are weird. Basically, something used to be there, and now, it isn't. And there's not enough residue to create a phantom image to see what," the Doctor confirmed.

"Gwen, Ianto, pursue the criminal investigation," Jack ordered.

"Okay." Gwen nodded quickly.

"The Walker and Owen will follow up with the medical side."

"Fine," Owen answered.

"I'll go to the Arika, see if my scanners pick up something," Raka offered.

"Do that."

"Tosh, any luck in retrieving those medical records?"

"Not yet. I'm going to have to dig down into the system memories, see if I can find any remnants of deleted or temporary files. Completely illegally, of course," the Japanese answered.

At this, the Doctor looked up. "If you like, I can help you with that. I can get into systems far quicker than average people." For emphasis, he held up his sonic.

Smiling, Tosh nodded, remembering the man's UNIT files. "I'd appreciate that, Doctor."

Jack nodded grimly. "Do what you have to. We're not dealing with a freak with some needle fetish. This is a conspiracy."


A new morning, a new victim: Barry L., student, had died from toxic shock, and, as Gwen found, an attack with a hypodermic needle to the right eye, leaving people puzzled – who'd assassinate a student? Just as she was mulling over this with the Walker, Ianto called in. "Walker, call from the hospital. Marie's had some sort of seizure."

Rushing off, she made her way to the hothouse, nearly being run over by Raka, who was carrying a file slab. "Forgiveness," the Antarian apologised.

"No worries. Owen? They want us at the hospital. Marie's collapsed."

"Yeah? My money's on this stuff. From Marie's blood. It's a new one on me," the medic answered, nodding to the screen showing a DNA molecule.

"Yeah, me too. Have you run an isoenzyme analysis on it – Rakatiel?"

The Antarian stood before the screens in rigid stupor, the hair crackling with static. "No way."

"Know this one?" Owen asked.

"Not exactly. Well, it looks extremely familiar, but definitely not from my current incarnation. Damn it." Raka pinched the bridge of her nose, annoyed.

"So you're suspecting parasitic infection, Walker?"

"Could be."

"It's got to be down to this stuff, cause otherwise I haven't got a clue what's wrong with her. And given Rakatiel's reaction, I think we are spot on."

"Yeah – no infections, no deficiencies in organ function, perfect cholesterol levels, ideal blood pressure."

"Yeah, exactly. She's so normal, she's abnormal," the Walker summarised.

"Let's get to the hospital," Rakatiel stated grimly.

10

Another check on Marie, who now occupied a quarantine room of the ICU. "Marie? Marie, can you hear me?" Rakatiel asked, holding an illusory penlight into her eyes.

The young woman blinked and turned away. "Mmm, yeah."

"OK, you've got something in your blood that we don't recognise, all right? We think it's behind your current illness and we need to know what's been happening to you so we can help you," Owen explained.

"Well, you're the doctors. You tell me," she grumbled.

The Walker checked her over again, this time though not just as a healer, but also as a Time Lady, and noticed that her time lines were as messy as that of Mr. Roberts… and they're about to snap. Fuck. Looking up to the Antarian, she knew that the Space Weaver had seen the same as she did: Marie was dying.

Just then, Owen got off the Bluetooth comlink with Ianto. "Thanks, Ianto. Right, Listen, Marie, you're going to have to level with us. This could be a matter of life and death. Have you ever had a serious medical condition?"

Marie snorted bitterly. "Too good to be true."

"What do you mean?" he asked, having the feeling the two women knew already somehow.

"I had HIV."

"You're perfectly clear of antibodies. That's not medically possible," the Walker reminded her.

"That's the Reset."

Raka frowned. "Reset? What are we talking about? A drug?"

"Right, I'm not familiar with Reset, so any idea of a chemical name?" Owen pressed further, sensing they were on the right trail. In answer, Marie laughed, then started coughing. "Where d'you get it from, Marie?"

"I got it from the Pharm," she coughed sadly.

"The farm? What farm?"

"No, P-H-A-R-M, the Pharm. It's a medical research place, all right?" she complained, unaware how the phrase stirred something in the Walker's memory. I have heard that before – while listening to Mr. Roberts' history, there was also something about 'The Pharm'.

"How did you get it from there?" Owen asked.

"They gave it to me. They paid me a lot of money. They said I should to keep quiet about it cos it was part of the contract."

"Are you saying you were a clinical trial subject?" Instead of an answer, Marie started to convulse. "Marie? Convulsing. I'll give her another 10 ml." Quickly, he reached for a syringe while Raka held her down with a drip of psychokinesis.

"She's slipping," the Antarian remarked, focussing.

Just as the monitor flat-lined, both alien women winced with the sound of snapping timelines and realities/possibilities – inevitable death. "She's dead," the Walker finished sadly. Just then, loud buzzing filled the air, and they stared as a swarm of small bugs poured out of Marie's mouth.

Owen ran and hit a button on the wall, sounding the alarm. "Emergency! Biohazard! Get us out of here!"

Raka was absolutely unconcerned with this. Instead, she crossed hands, and a shimmering bubble appeared, shielding the three from the incoming bugs. "Bzzt," she hissed, and true to her word, the bugs fell dead to the ground, as if caught in a gigantic invisible bug zapper.

Still shaken, Owen got back to his feet, holding up one of the insects on the tip of his finger. "What the hell… did you do?"

"Save your life, maybe?" The Antarian glared and shook her head.

The Walker stared at the hundreds of insect larvae. "Anti-insect-electrostatic field?"

"Yes." A – slightly frightened – expression ran over her features as she shook her head. "Sacred creator. Tasureshes. Why does it have to be tasureshes?"

"Walker, translation please."

Martha shuddered as she recognised the term. "Dayflies."


Back at the hub, Owen, Raka and the Time Lords gathered around the main view screen (showing a 3D graphic of a tasuresh) in the conference room. They had called in the team for an update. "So it's an alien insect larva, incubating in human bodies," Owen mused. "You called them Dayflies, Rakatiel. Do you remember them?"

"Not quite yet. But I remember something about a quarantine decree involving tasureshes." The Antarian shook her cobalt head and set to retying the tinsel-y tresses. "Looking it up now." And she promptly went into that trance betraying her linking up with her ship.

"Same for us. Déjà vu. Can't remember where, but we know it," the Doctor consented, a nod from the Walker accompanying it.

"All we remember is that these things are bad news, given the imperial quarantine," the Time Lady added.

"Well, I've never seen anything like it. So it left Marie's body when she died, presumably looking for another host for its next stage of development."

"Which could have been us." Martha shuddered internally, causing the Doctor to take her hand and squeeze it gently.

I'm here, lairelai.

"Yeah. Fortunately, Rakatiel had the mind to kill them before they could reach us, although I doubt they would have survived much longer," Owen pondered aloud. "I wonder what this cute little larva grows up to be?"

Raka snapped out of her uplink, and her face said everything. "I don't think you would want to know, Owen. Sheltera, zinu-jona."

"Wash your mouth with purple soap, janara," Jack's voice called, causing them to turn around. The rest of Torchwood Three was coming in through the door, settling around the conference table. "What have you got for us, my love?"

"Bad news."

"That's our life. Details?"

"Tasuresh," the Time Lord answered for them.

Jack growled. "Even with as little as I know about these, that is bad news, Doctor. But I think the others would like to hear it nonetheless."

Owen nodded slowly and started the presentation. "This, folks, is a molecular model of the drug that we found in Marie's blood. And let me add that the mere sight of it caused our resident World Maker to freeze."

"Marie called it Reset," the Walker added.

"So what does it do?" Ianto wondered.

Owen shot the Doctor a look that pretty much said 'up yours', which rewarded him with one of the Time Lord's patent 'stupid ape' eyebrows, causing the human to flinch – he hadn't forgot yet how the far older man had reacted to his attempts at flirting with the Walker. Also known as the fiancée of the Doctor (God, the man was so territorial it wasn't even funny anymore). Jack would have found the entire exchange far more amusing if not for the lack of time (ha, ha). "Guys, we're on a schedule."

Owen winced. "Sorry Jack."

Opposed to that, the Doctor simply continued the presentation as if nothing had passed. "Let's see, what's a good analogy… Oh, I know. Think about when you run a virus and malware scan through your computer. The software works its way through the system and when it finds a Trojan or a virus or whatever, identifies it and then it deletes it, right?" Nods around the room. "This stuff is just like that, to the human body that is. Viruses, harmful bacteria, toxins, even mutant cells, you name it. The body is being turned back to its factory settings."

"It's the ultimate magic bullet. Supersedes anything and everything in the human pharmacological armoury," the Walker added.

"But that would be the greatest medical discovery in history," Gwen gasped.

"Don't get too excited, Gwen," the Doctor warned sadly. Pointing the sonic at the screen, he switched the image to show the Dayfly image again. "For as always, such things come at a price. In this case, it comes bundled with a lethal alien parasite."

"Ah, not so good a discovery. Or, another saying: Too good to be true, hmm…" Jack muttered.

"The parasite needs a healthy body until it's incubated. So the parasite egg incorporates this stuff, which puts everything in the system back to Zero Hour," the Time Lord finished. "Another downside is, the body forgets all the defences it has gained in the course of its life, antibodies, radical binders, you name it. All gets deleted."

"Reset." This isn't my day. Jack waved his hands in exasperation. "Neato."

"Pretty much. To be precise, the parasite is a tasuresh – a Dayfly. Unfortunately, none of us can really remember where they're from or what they can do," Raka spoke up.

"Nothing in your databanks?"

"Sealed by Imperial Decree. Translation, I have to go back to find out." In a grand display of Antarian dramatics, Rakatiel hit her head on the wall a few times. "Oh well. You remember that I said I might have to go back in order to stay, Jack?"

"Yes, and I also remember that I've said it doesn't make much sense whatsoever."

The Antarian sighed, sitting down beside Ianto. "Oh it does. Simply put, I have to demand assignment as Lord Steward to Assiah sector since Assiah is already watched. And while I am going to grate on the nerves of the Lord-Administrator of the Order, I can just as well get a hardcopy of that space-forsaken decree. And I have to show up within the next 36 hours if I want that job."

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. "Given your ship is an Antesia class reality-hopper, it shouldn't take you more than twelve hours to do so. Why delaying it?"

"I want to help, damn it. And I can't do that when I am sitting with the administration of all World Makers, for shelan paperwork of all things."

"But you would be ordered back if you don't do it, so your argument is nil, love," Ianto interjected softly. "Be quick about it, and you might be able to still do something."

You are wiser than you give yourself credit for, janara. "Thanks Ianto. I needed to hear that."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Now, since the logistics are out of the way…" He shot the Welshman a look. "Who runs the Pharm?"

"Well, the public image is innocent enough. Private-public partnership between the government and a consortium of pharmaceutical companies. Researching and developing cutting-edge biotechnology," Ianto read off his file.

"Their IT systems are way more cutting-edge than they need to be. Plus, they've got seemingly unrestricted security clearance," Tosh added. "Which means they'd have the capability to erase medical records if they wanted to."

"I've found hints that they might have backing from a benefactor in Whitehall," the Doctor added. "Unfortunately, the only way to confirm it would be hacking in person, or having a biocomputer accessing the net."

"You mean like an Antarian AI brain core?" Jack asked, remembering that a benefit of Raka getting assigned was one of these biotechnological masterpieces.

"Or Mr Smith," he mused. Seeing the Torchwood Team's confused glances, he added, "Xylok-based computer. Sarah Jane Smith, an old companion of mine, owns it."

"What about the TARDIS?" Jack wondered.

"Wired too differently. Eleven-planar mind. Has more in common with a World Maker than a human computer, and doesn't have the same rooting in the here and now. And it takes a lot of pleading with her for which we frankly don't have the time for." The Time Lord shrugged. "Well, we don't have either at hand yet, so it's of no consequence."

"True." Jack turned to Gwen. "Who runs this outfit?"

"Institute director is a Doctor Aaron Copley," the former constable answered.

"Yeah, I know his work. He's one of the most respected research scientists in his field," Owen interjected.

"Rassilon was the most revered Time Lord to have lived. Ever. Doesn't mean he wasn't a nut job, because he sure as hell was," the Doctor growled darkly, causing Owen to flinch once more. "What people are and what people think they are can be about as different as eggs and apples, and don't say pears, because apples and pears are both fruit."

"I get it, Doctor," the human healer scowled. "And I agree, so please, stop it."

"If you stop hitting on my betrothed, I stop pointing out how pointless you are at times."

"I have it on record for you that one point of me is being pointless," Owen shot back.

Ianto pressed a button on the presentation remote, ending the men's pissing contest. "Aaron Copley. Harvard graduate. Did research at Cambridge. Last job, Harvard Professor of Molecular Pharmacology. Came to the UK to set up the Pharm."

A mischievous twinkle stole itself into Jack's eyes. "Hmm, he's kinda handsome, too. D'you think he'll like visitors?"

"Count me in," the Doctor smiled grimly.

10

Getting into the Pharm with a simple announcement of them being "Torchwood" was easy enough. Getting honest information out of its director… different kettle of fish. "Sorry you've had a wasted journey, Mr… Harker."

"Harkness," Jack corrected. He was sitting – the Doctor, hyper as he was, preferred to stand, looming over their adversary, as did Owen. "And it's Group Captain, but you can call me Jack."

"Group Captain? Where did you park your plane?"

Jack laughed alone. In the silence, it was harsh, and so was the jesting tone in which he continued. "I like a man with a sense of humour. Know any good gags about clinical trials?"

Copley flipped through the photographs of the dead and shook his head. "Well, Jack, none of these faces mean anything to me. And as the institute director, I would have met them personally, had they been our trial subjects."

"Doctor Copley…"

"Professor, actually."

Jack continued as if the man had never spoken. "But I can call you Aaron, right?" He smiled winningly, standing up to loom over Copley like his colleague and his mentor. "See, this is a little awkward." He opened the file again, spreading the photographs of the victims. "Two of these people were murdered. Another died of a parasitic infection of alien origin and one of the victims mentioned your organisation's name shortly before she died."

"Alien origin? That's preposterous."

"Professor Copley…" The Doctor could barely suppress a grimace at having to call this fanatic sleaze the same as his mother's title-name, and wished the World Maker would have been there to read his mind. "You are one of the leading experts on immunology."

"Thank you."

"Therefore, if there was a drug that could restore the human body back to its factory settings, as it were, you would know about it."

Copley lifted an eyebrow. "You're right, I would. But nothing like that exists."

"I had a boyfriend whose nostrils flared when he was lying," Jack threw in casually, proving his mastery of reading people.

Caught, the aging pharmacologist got to his feet. "I'm already late for my next appointment."

"You go ahead. We'll have a look around," the immortal countered.

"Well, obviously our research suites are classified, so we can't grant you access to those, but we'd be delighted to give you the PR tour."

"Normally, Aaron, we go where we like."

Copley smirked. "Not here, actually. Ask Whitehall. We're fireproof."

He shouldn't have, for the glare Jack answered with was loaded with his full age. "Yeah. I had a bad experience with a politician recently. I tend not to listen to Whitehall any more."

But it was the Doctor's stare that caused him to flinch, like so many others had before him. "On Earth, the Torchwood Institute only answers to Her Majesty, Copley. Whitehall has no power to deny us. And besides: The last time I dealt with them, they had to call new elections."

Suppressing a shudder, Aaron reached for the phone. "Let me get someone to guide you back to your vehicle."

Escorted back to the SUV, Jack pulled a grimace as he sat down in the driver's seat. "Was it me, or was he a little touchy?"

The Doctor had managed to 'steal' the front passenger's seat. "Quite. Reminds me of my father in a mood. Which gets me testy."

Owen nodded slowly. "Yeah, so much for the polite approach. We need to turn this place over."

Shaking his head, Jack used his vortex manipulator to scan the area and smiled sarcastically. "Oh, yeah. According to these readings this place has the highest concentration of alien life forms this side of the Rift." He took a look at the fenced-off outbuildings, razor wire and all, and then to the armed female security guard that had escorted them, shaking his head again. "Grey is so not her colour."


Back at the Hub, Toshiko made a few colourful Japanese remarks about Antarian bureaucracy, lack of timing, and lack of processing power, a sentiment shared by the Doctor, who added a boatload of Gallifreyan curses that usually made sense to engineers only. "Wash your mouths with purple soap," Jack interrupted the cursing-fest. "So what's got you two geniuses cursing like simple techs?"

"It's their security, Jack. It's like hacking the Ministry of National Defence of the People's Republic of China and the Pentagon at the same time," Tosh complained. "We can't hack in there, Jack."

"And if we keep on trying with a brute-force approach, they'll know they're under attack," the Doctor added. "Shouldn't I–"

"No Doctor, and that's final. My turf, my rules." Jack glared, and then, he shook his head. "You are everything, just not subtle, not in that body. You are not your mother, and for the record, I can't remember my training properly yet. No, we know that an alien life form is preying on the human bloodstream and we need a way in there, but going in like this we'll resort to if we run out of ideas."

The Doctor frowned, and sighed. "Point taken. I think the only person flashier than me around is Rakatiel."

"Only if she wants to. Thunder strikes, out of the blue if it is wanton."

Ianto interrupted the gathering, having finished his own digging. "Tosh, Doctor, I've got the results of that research. On the screen now."

What Ianto had found was a veritable gold mine of (mis)information about The Pharm, South Wales. Including an advertisement. "Ianto, that's brilliant! They're in the market for volunteers," Tosh exclaimed grinning.

"That's understandable, given their wastage rate," Jack remarked sarcastically.

"Then one of us goes in undercover," Gwen concluded.

"I don't know, that seems about as dangerous as simply breaking and entering," the Time Lord frowned.

"I agree with the Doctor. We don't know enough about the workings of that place. Too many things could go wrong," the immortal denied.

"Unless you were to put a medic in there. Someone who knew what to look for," the Walker stated calmly.

Only to be cut off. "Mal. Mal-nar-mei, Walker," the Doctor protested, having correctly guessed her idea.

"Shunoirre, Doctor." The Walker lifted an eyebrow.

"Lairelaiue, enteh, mal-nar-meie," he begged.

"What the…" Owen gaped, and so did the others: The language was definitely nothing human; it lilted and rolled like music, not unlike Raka's native tongue, just less melodic, more rhythmic. Shaking his head, he cut in, "Yeah, but I can't do it. They know me now, don't they."

"Given the fact he's trying to talk her out of the idea, I don't think she's thinking of you, Owen," Jack sighed. "And I agree with the Doctor, Walker. No way. Not on my watch."

The Walker snorted and shook her head. "I've been in worse places and you know it. Both of you. You trusted me then to get it right, why not now?" She shot the Doctor a look. "She trusted me to get it right, and I did. I passed her exams. Please."

"Don't," he whispered, the voice thick with conflict, his body shaking with fear. He knew which übermensch of a Chronarch she meant – the only person he wouldn't dare to contradict – and mentioning his janayi was hardly fair.

Jack shook his head. From what he had learnt the last year, despite their emotional mastery in general (don't count in the Doctor), there was one thing no Lungbarrow dealt well with: Heartsbreak, including potential one; if faced with the latter, they would use their considerable manipulative abilities to kill off its possibility or redirect the entire conversation (for reference: trying to getting the Professor to talk about her losses was worse than getting the Doctor to actually say something). I wish I could remember more of my stolen time. Stupid Jack, you had to say no when they offered to give you your memories back, hadn't you. Oh well, maybe next time. Still, I really don't want to send her in either. She's done so much already. But looking around, he knew that the younger Chronarch was right, she was the only sensible choice. "Enough you two. You win, Walker." Turning away, he took the stairs to his office.

Owen raced after him, an incredulous expression on his face. "Jack, can I have a word? Listen, I know you're big buddies from way back whenever, but you can't just send her in like this."

Snorting, Jack chuckled and shook his head. His poor medic had no idea who he was talking about. "Trust me. She's more than capable. I'd rely on the Walker if the world was ending. In fact, I did. We all did. Why do you think she's called the Walker? She saved the world, Owen. On foot. And no-one will ever know." No normal human being will ever know. The Walking Maiden, the Storyteller. The Wandering Minstrel. Herald and Heart of the Oncoming Storm. The Walker. Before Owen could answer, Jack chuckled again, a sad undertone in it, and walked away.

10

Standing in the office area of Owen's realm, Martha checked if her bigger-on-the-inside pockets were still semi-isomorphic and held everything she would need. IR Sonic, Bone mender, feedback pulse emitter, lemon drops… blast it. I need to ask Lady Lungbarrow to get me a Valeyard-grade gravity leveller. It would make this so much easier… "Oh, hey Ianto."

The mild-mannered Welsh approached her with a file which he spread out on one of the autopsy tables. "OK, these are the plans for the Pharm's buildings. From what Jack, the Doctor and Owen saw, they reckon that the main house contains Copley's office, medical research suites and the accommodation for the clinical trials subjects."

"What about the buildings at the rear?" the woman wondered, pointing at the other end of the blueprint.

"Restricted area, fenced off, armed security. Jack thinks that's where the readings of alien life forms came from."

"Cool."

Ianto groaned internally. Martha Jones was a handful if anything his old friend Adeola had said all that time ago was true, but her Time Lady persona… Still, he could see why the Doctor had proposed to her – she was one hell of a woman, and she was as enthusiastic as the Time Lord himself. "But you don't need to go anywhere near there."

"Spoilsport."

Shaking his head at the reaction, he continued. "The first thing you need to do is get yourself accepted as a clinical trials subject. Don't try too hard, don't draw too much attention to yourself."

"Be invisible. I can do that." TARDIS key? Check. Stattenheim Chronos Remote Controlling Watch? Check.

"Once you're in, we need you to gain access to the Pharm's IT systems, close down the system firewalls and security protocols. That way Tosh can gain access to the files and see what they're really up to."

"Industrial espionage. It's very civilised. And far less ad hoc than I am used to…" She smiled.

"Once you've done that, get out. Don't take any unnecessary risks."

The Walker mentally crossed her fingers. "Understood."

"Cool."

"So, Jack asked me if I could manage to get you a UNIT cap to wear," she mused.

Ianto blinked in surprise. "Did he?" Gathering his things, he went to the short flight of stairs leading out of Owen's den. "Well, red is my colour." (Well, his current shirt bordered on magenta, really, but who was counting?)

"So am I right in thinking that you and he…?" She smiled coyly.

"We… dabble," he answered lamely; he was not exactly comfortable yet with his newly discovered bisexuality. Especially living it.

"What about Rakatiel?"

"Usually joins in. Sometimes calls the shots."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Smirking, she continued, "And what's this dabbling like?"

"Innovative."

"Really?"

"Bordering on the avant-garde. And out of this world when she joins in."

"Wow."

"Oh, yeah." Allowing himself to drift a little to his happy place, he thought of the very memorable downtime they had had, and would have. Finally, he shook it off. "So, shall we get your cover story sorted?"

Martha chuckled. "Absolutely."

They took to Jack's office, where the Doctor and the rest of the crew were waiting. There, Ianto accepted another folder from his lover/boss and handed the contents to the Walker. "Fake ID. First name Samantha. We thought the Jones would be safe."

"I thought your name was The Walker?" Gwen mused aloud.

"Long story. Basically, I used to be human, and my name was Martha Jones. How did you guess, Ianto?"

"I used to work for Torchwood One, London. Same office as Adeola Oshodi. You look like her."

She smiled sadly. "I know. So, Samantha…" Meanwhile, the Time Lord was snickering, suppressing full-blown out laughter. "What's so funny, Thete?" She lifted an eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, he giggled, "Sorry. Sorry. It's just, I used to travel with a Samantha Jones in my eight body for a while."

A light went on in Martha's mind, and she groaned. "Greenpeace Sam. I have totally forgotten about her. Anyway. How do I stay in touch?"

"I thought your telepathy would be enough for that," Jack frowned, and then slapped his forehead. "Oh, no, right. You're not bonded yet. Tosh?"

Toshiko stepped forward. "Communication's very tricky. The whole place could be wired. We don't want you chattering away to us and being overheard. But we have something in store that would allow us to monitor you at all times." She held out a small box, containing…

"I don't need contact lenses," the Walker frowned.

"You need these," Tosh corrected, grinning from ear to ear.


After a demonstration of the Walker's personal brand of brilliance (she deduced the workings of the camera-contacts in less than a sentence), the Torchwood team watched in apprehension as she performed another essential skill for a companion of The Doctor: Verbal Bullshitting out of/into a situation, i.e. The Pharm. Owen blinked as she settled in. "Okay, just for clarification, Doctor. That sort of bullshitting is what you do every day?"

"Pretty much. Barring uninhabited planets. And Francine Jones, I rather leave her to my janayitrita." The Time Lord scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. "I'm in the TARDIS if anyone needs me."

"Right." Jack nodded as the Doctor left. "Everyone, prepare for a long night."

10

After he was sure his entire team was back at work, Jack followed his oldest friend to his ship, and smiled as Idris greeted him with a grateful mental caress that bordered on lecherous in expression. Hello old girl, I missed you too. Though, I never knew you were that kinky! A wave of amusement, mixed with rather explicit erotic sensations swept through him. Oh, I see: Every time anyone enjoys themselves within you, it's basically with you. But I am not sure he'd appreciate the sentiment but maybe… are you interested in a telepathic foursome once Raka's back? The next image sent him leaning against the next coral column, trying to catch his breath. Oh boy.

"Jack, once you and Idris are quite finished catching up, I would appreciate it if you stop lingering in my door," the Doctor called from the other side.

In answer, Jack walked around the console to find the Time Lord's worried form on the jump seat, his eyes firmly fixated on the scanner (all it showed was the ceiling Martha stared at so far). "Hey. Did you know your ship is a pervert?"

"I live here."

"Point taken." Jack chuckled and shook his head. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." Seeing Jack's scowl, the Doctor sighed. "Okay, that's a lie. Honestly, I'm worried, terrified even. I can't lose her, not now. Not when I am this close…" He snorted, fiddling with his engagement ring. "Isn't it ironic?"

"What is?" Sensing the Time Lord's unease, Jack put a hand on his shoulder.

The gesture was appreciated. "I told you once that I ran away from Gallifrey. Ran away from family, from the House, from any semblance of Gallifreyan normalcy. Heck, my kids were pretty much raised by my cousins, not me. But when I finally wanted even a piece of these things…" He lowered his head, staring at the Walker's token of promise.

"It had burnt to ashes," the younger man finished. "And I thought your Ninth self was just angsting about what he had to do to end the war."

"Consider that my personal part of the mess."

"Doctor…"

Turning towards the immortal, the Doctor shook his head, smiling crookedly. "Janayi is right. You would have made an excellent Time Lord eventually."

"Really?!"

The Doctor nodded once. "And, despite your insistence of flirting with everything gorgeous with a pulse, I learnt one important thing from you." Seeing the man gaping, he finished, "To not let my life slip through my fingers. Although, I admit, it took janayi shaking my world to actually do so."

Shaking his shock off, Jack smiled. "You're welcome." Making a decision, he fished out a few photographs, amongst them his two wedding photographs. "Feel like sharing a little?"

Recognising the rarity of the gesture, the Doctor reached under the console, pulling out his hypercube. "I would like that very much. Besides, I still have no idea how your slow path worked out."


Later at night…

Making way through the building, the Walker eventually found herself in front of the door to the Pharm's administration office, which was electronically locked. But not deadlocked, she snorted, pulling out her sonic. Aiming at the keypad, she unlocked the door before Tosh could even try to gather the code, and let herself in, doing the same with the password-protected laptop on the desk. Now what? she thought, and typed out the same message so the team could see it. In answer, Tosh texted her instructions to give her remote access to the system, which she followed at her new improved speed. One year of this, and I'm still not quite used to it. Well, the Professor said part of it is that I am essentially an orphan, so… well. The files Tosh pulled up in front of her eyes told her of the parasite. Well, it looks like they weren't that far off with the name of the tasuresh – they call it mayfly. What else do you…

10

Meanwhile, Tosh and Gwen had started downloading the files – the entire system. "Jack? I've got the list of the clinical trials subjects here," the latter alerted her boss.

Jack approached her work station and looked over her shoulder. "Meredith Roberts, Marie Thomas, Barry Leonard. All the murder victims. Ooh, who's BD?"

The last image on the list was of a young man with the pinnacle of a boring face. Gwen frowned at the description – he was not a trial subject. "»Executive actions«?"

Jack smiled, in that way that betrayed him as having seen too much in his life. "Old CIA terminology for assassinations. The Pharm are running their own hit man, which is kind of unusual for a medical research facility." Are you seeing this, Doctor? he sent towards the man in the TARDIS.

I am, Jack, and I am currently trying to stay put.

Thanks.

The little telepathic exchange was interrupted by Gwen. "Wait a minute, there's a name here that we haven't seen before. Elin Morgan? She hasn't been reported missing or dead."

"She soon will be. Take Ianto and pull her in." Unfortunately, as the two Welsh got up and ready, his eyes fell on the monitor with the Walker's/Martha's POV… which showed her sneaking around the Pharm, as apparently some alert had caused enough chaos for her to get into the restricted zone. I swear, Doctor, she's becoming more and more like you.

Don't blame me, Jack. Ever since her 'awakening', she's Scaltata, and they're even more notorious than Lungbarrow, the equally exasperated Time Lord sent back.

I know. Rassilon's blood after all. The Torchwood director sighed. This is definitely not my day.

Neither is it mine. But I admit, I am probably aggravating the trouble she can land herself in. Which is also typical.

Ya think?

By the way, my father was main line Scaltata.

Why does that not surprise me?

Just then, the video feed from the Walker went white in a flash, and left nothing but statics behind; bang, and the Doctor stormed the Hub, pure blue murder on his face. "HARKNESS!"

The man in question flinched – three of many things you didn't want to do ever as a friend he had just done: 1. Get the Doctor mad at you (which was always fundamentally stupid, friend or foe alike) 2. Get the Doctor disappointed in you (that hurts!) 3. Get someone else the Doctor cares about in real danger (oh. fuck.); but then, he composed himself quickly. "I know. Let's get to work. Tosh?"

"Radiation surge. We've lost her signal," the Japanese answered, typing frantically. "I can't get her back. Sorry."

"Shrere! Shrere Torchwood!"

Hearing the curse/insult (blasted), Jack went in front of the Doctor and turned his head, in a way it was clear he was offering his jaw to be clocked. "Come on. You need that out of your system."

Getting his breathing and his rage back under control, the Doctor shook his head. "Not your fault, Jack. We have to get her out of there."

"That place is swamped in security. If we try and steam in, we'll be putting her at risk!" Owen protested.

"I was not saying we go in guns blazing. And certainly not through the front door," the Gallifreyan shot back, waving his head at his ship.

"Oh. Right."

"If I can't get her signal back in 30 minutes, then we think of alternatives," Tosh interrupted the men. "And that includes your TARDIS, Doctor."

"30 minutes?" Owen gaped, especially since the two older men seemed to be okay with it. "Anything could be happening to her in there!"

"Martha can handle herself. She's been in worse situations than this," Jack denied.

"Sure about that?"

"As Jack told you, why do you think her title-name is The Walker?" the Doctor asked, a strained smile on his face as he sat down. "Once she makes up her mind, not even the greatest lunatic in the universe will be able to stop her." Now I wish I hadn't pushed Rakatiel to get her papers straight.

Jack joined him in his worries, sighing. You and I both, old friend.


As the Walker woke up, she had a sudden feeling of déjà vu, only, the one tied to the table last time had been Donna; this time, she was the one bound to a (blasphemy, anyone?) cross-shaped exam table. Fuck, she groaned internally as she realised that her curiosity had literally got the better of her. Falling back into her cover story, she yelled at Copley who stood away from the table, studying a monitor. "Will you tell this gorilla to let me go?! What is going on?!"

Copley turned to the guard and dismissed him with the words, "Good work."

"I'm here as a clinical volunteer. You can't treat me like this!" 'Sam' protested.

"You lied to us, Samantha." Copley took off his suit jacket, switching to his lab coat.

"Can I just explain? I got bored stuck in that room, so I went for a walk, and first that thing attacked me, and then your heavies assaulted me."

The human scientist sighed. "You don't owe any loyalty to Torchwood. Jack Harkness has treated you in a criminally irresponsible way."

"Who? I really don't understand!"

"Don't bother. This is not an interrogation. Torchwood is irrelevant to us, not even a nuisance. In fact, they've done us quite a favour putting you in here." Copley sat down beside her and folded his hands. "We've analysed your test results – you really are something special."

Unbeknownst to the humans, strapping down a Scaltata made a handy time bomb as the Walker's blood started to pound in her ears, the mental energy and adrenaline going in a superconducting loop. Di-di-di-dum.

"Do you know what lymphocytes are, Samantha?" the aging doctor asked in a conversational tone.

"A kind of white blood cell, part of the immune system?" Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum.

"Well, your lymphocytes are really quite extraordinary," Copley's assistant remarked.

"We've never seen anything like them before, not in a human being. Aliens are a different matter." The man smiled coldly – he'd been served on a silver platter. What are you?

"Aliens? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your lymphocytes and God knows what other cells are not like anything we've ever encountered, as if they'd mutated," the lab assistant continued.

Shit. "Mutated? How?" Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum.

Shaking his head internally, Copley displayed her new and unique blood components. "Under the influence of radiation. Radiation that's not found in the temporally stable environments on Earth. I first thought that this couldn't be blood."

"More like super-oxygenated tomato-and-carrot-soup," the assistant remarked.

Think, think, think! "I don't know what that means." Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum.

Two can play the game of stupid. "We've dealt with aliens before, but we have never come across anything as exotic as you. A human being who's travelled in time and space. Tell me about it. How is that possible? What did you see out there? Or are you even still human?"

By the Founders, no… "This is mad. I don't know what you mean!" Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum.

Aaron Copley sighed and shook his head. "Fine. If that's the way you want to play it. However it happened, it means that you have a uniquely effective immune system, which is exactly what we need. We're developing a drug that's going to change the world, Sam. Incurable cancers, AIDS – all the scourges of the human race wiped out. A revolution in medicine and social welfare. Except it's still imperfect. I'd like to know what your funky system makes of those imperfections."

"I am not taking that!" Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum.

"But you volunteered," Copley stated smugly.

Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Di-di-di-dum. You stupid ape! a man's voice resounded in the Time Lady's mind. You foolish, primitive, stupid little ape! And with it, Martha could hear it: her four-beat heartsbeat, the blood pounding in her ears, and voices that were long gone, urging her to break free, and then, something snapped on the inside, roaring alive. By Rassilon, I am not your pet! Around her, objects went down in a crash as a shock of Artron energy pushed outwards and Copley fell over his chair.

"What the hell?!" Shocked, the human doctor tried to get to his feet, and found himself as if paralysed. "Who the hell are you? What are you?!"

Black, Scaltatian fury seeped from her, raging like a gargantuan forest fire as she ripped her restraints off like paper, suddenly towering over the man. "I am The Walker, you imbecile," the Time Lady retorted in a hiss. "I'm a Time Lady, from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous, and you're going down for being no better than the man who made me so."

"What?"

10

As if on cue, the TARDIS appeared in the room, surrounded by a white and purple teleportation target array, the clashing winds of the materialisation sequences blowing over paper, equipment and humans. When both light and wind died, Torchwood Cardiff stood there in all its glory – including Rakatiel and the Doctor. "Tosh, Gwen, Ianto, check out Zone A. Raka-janar."

"Already on it, Jack," the Antarian answered as the others raced out, taking handcuffs made from a lightly gunmetal grey-coloured material from the Doctor, the clinking betraying it as a metal.

"You can't do this!"

"Silence, you stupid little ape!" the Walker hissed, the brown eyes burning like coals in her beautiful face.

"I'm not an ape!" Copley protested, now completely unable to move as Rakatiel seized control of his muscles and tied him up. His assistant had vanished.

"Excuse me, but from a higher races' point of view, you are, foolish child," Rakatiel chided. "And don't bother trying to get these off – they're made of Ditanium. Which means not even I can open them without a key."

Jack blinked at this. Sure, Raka and the Doctor, but the Walker? "Walker?"

Meanwhile, the Doctor was approaching her slowly as he turned the eyes to his friend. "She can't hear you, Jack. That idiot did the one thing you shouldn't do to a member of the House of Scaltata."

"Tie her up?"

"Tie her up and put her under negative stress." He sighed – he could feel her rage even from where he stood, two metres away. "The House of Scaltata is famed for its genius, individually and as a whole. But it's infamous for emotional instability too. Due to the extreme example of Rassilon, who was Scaltata three times over – and a bipolar, near schizophrenic nutter – direct inbreeding, that is, marrying someone from the same clan, is forbidden amongst Scaltata. Otherwise, they get broken. In the head. From birth. And even if you don't inbreed directly – which is needed to strengthen the clan traits – piss one of them off enough and they snap for a few minutes. My mother always warned me not to anger my father to this point. Now, since it's a Gallifreyan social running gag and the same family… how do you think Gallifreyans call this?" He nodded at his betrothed before crossing the distance, wrapping her in a hug. Lairelai? Lairelaiene, I am here now. It's over.

"Err…" Jack blinked first and then groaned. "God no."

"Jack? Raka?" Owen asked tentatively.

Rakatiel dumped Copley in an undignified heap and groaned as well. "The Rage… of Rassilon."

Just then, Martha literally snapped out of it, and, with eyes wide, she clung to the Doctor with all she had in her. "Theta…? Theta!" Theta… I

"Ke, krre, lairelai. Deneya ere, lairelai." I'm here, my everything, I'm here.

Just then, Ianto called in. "Jack, Raka, Doctor, I can give you a report on Zone A. They're holding dozens of creatures captive down here. They seem to be using them as test subjects."

The Torchwood director nodded grimly, mirroring the narrowed eyes of the others. "Understood, Ianto. Tell Tosh to go for total shutdown. This place is a torture chamber."

"I don't need to debate medical ethics with you," Copley sneered.

"Wrong answer," Raka hissed, this time ripping him from his feet, hanging him upside down from his ankles. "Pitiful shadow lost in the darkness… do you even know anything else than your own vanity?"

The blue eyes burning like the hot centre of a flame, Jack got (literally) into the hanging man's face. "You abused the Dayflies, you turned them into parasites!" he sneered.

"We didn't understand how the Mayflies reproduced. We tried to limit the damage! Let me dow– ah!" In answer to him giving another wrong reply, Raka had sent him for a 360° spin. Around his z-axis, as if stuck to an invisible torturer's wheel.

Finally, the Doctor spoke up. "What, by murdering people?"

My God. Owen, who kept a gun trained on the old pharmacologist, shuddered. Jack is already intense… all four together? The room's suffocating with their presence.

Copley found it hard to think in his predicament, but clung to his justifications with the tenacity of a fanatic. "They were going to die anyway. We're on the edge of the greatest discovery in history. It got to be worth a few sacrifices! You must understand that, Jack, you're involved in alien research."

"Not like this. I'm closing this place down," Jack growled.

"In your dreams. This is a state of the art, official facility."

"Do you really think a man who answers only to the Queen and the Shadow Proclamation gives a damn about this? I'm not going to do it by sending a memo." The immortal snorted. "We're in control of your IT systems. As we speak, we're crashing your data banks, wiping your records."

"That's cyber terrorism!" Copley protested.

"And that's just for starters. We're going to trip the systems of your fire, radiation and biohazard safety networks. The power will cut, sprinklers will be activated, and a large part of this facility will be sealed and flooded with inert gases." Like his humourless laughter, Jack's smile under these circumstances had more in common with a grim reaper than his charming cheer. He nodded at the Doctor. "And if you still don't get it… then I'll let him handle you. And that's something you really don't want to."

"The aliens will die! And what's that supposed to mean?"

"They're already dying. This way they'll be put out of their misery." Jack glared. "Do you know why Harriet Jones isn't Prime Minister any longer?"

"No?"

"Ask him."

Numbly, Aaron turned to the Doctor. "How did you do that? Who the hell are you anyway?!"

The cold smile that played on the Time Lord's face was an eerie facsimile to the one Jack sported a few seconds ago. "Hello. I'm The Doctor." Quietly, the Doctor let go of his beloved, gently pushing her towards Jack and Rakatiel. "How? I asked her aide 'Don't you think she looks tired?'. I don't need guns to take down a stupid, vainglorious ape."

"Just words," the Walker added, in the same deadly quiet tone.

Realising that the warning about Torchwood hadn't been a joke, Copley gulped (a part of him wondered why he hadn't fallen unconscious yet, the way he hung in the air). No… all I wanted was to end disease! All I did was for humanity! "For God's sake, we're on the same side!" he begged. "Let me go!"

Jack shook his head, laughing. "No. Combating hostile aliens is one thing, but this is slavery, exploitation, a war crime! I will not, absolutely not be compared with something as you or disappoint humanity." He turned to Raka. "Let's get everything outside."

"We'll have to take Idris. I can't teleport him with these handcuffs."

"Then let's go."

10

Outside, Toshiko awaited her boss with her laptop as they left the TARDIS. "We've apprehended most of the scientists, Jack. All it needs is starting it."

"Okay." Dispassionately, the Torchwood director and his Chronarch friends watched as Raka roughly manhandled (i.e. kicked) Copley out of the TARDIS. "Do it."

Smiling grimly, Tosh hit Enter, triggering a quick, brutal program, designed to puree the systems of the Pharm and kill off any alien life form that had had the misfortune to be a prisoner of the Pharm, turning its own security against it. "Bye-bye."

"No…" Copley whispered, mindful of the human doctor still aiming a gun at him, joined by Gwen, who was pushing around the man's black assistant.

"What are we going to do with them, Jack?"

"Doctor? Any ideas?"

The Time Lord shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot be an impartial judge on this, old friend. Besides, this world has now a Lord Steward." He nodded at Rakatiel, who now sported a new earring on her right: A blue spiral winding around her earlobe, like one would normally wear as a piercing with cone ends and a blue cone pendant hanging from it. "Your turf, your rules, Rakatiel-leirana."

In answer, she smiled grimly. "I'll take our little Mengele and his helper to the Shadow Proclamation. A lifetime of hacking freezing Ditanium ore should cool their idiocies out. The rest, well, let their fellow humans be their judges."

The Doctor nodded. "Agreed. He knows too much."

"No protests from us," Owen agreed, watching as their alien teammate took the two Nobel prize hunters back to the TARDIS.

"Let's go home," Jack called. "Good job everyone."


Later, after the Mengele wannabe and his sidekick had been taken to do just as Rakatiel had promised – a one-way ticket to Palikpetha for a lifelong sentence of mining Ditanium by hand – the Torchwood team and the two Chronarchs were sitting around the couch table in the Hub, nursing various beverages, mainly tea or Ianto's killer coffee. The mood was pensive; Copley's studies and methods had been appalling. Just how low can humanity sink? Raka was right to call him a Mengele – he has had the same disregard for the aliens that damn Nazi had had for humans that weren't GermanI wonder… "Rakata?" Jack looked up, his face betraying his conflict.

"What is it, janara?" the Antarian asked quietly.

"Why do you think humans don't change?" he wondered aloud.

"I don't know for certain, Jack, but personally, I think it's because your people still do not recognise how small they are. Why do you ask? Did that primitive fool get to you?" At his nod, she blew a feather towards the man. "Don't. You all, you do not compare. People like you are the reason my people haven't given up on Assiah yet."

"Doctor?"

"She's right. Copley was misguided, nothing more, but also nothing less. I believe there a saying about that… which exists in most civilisations in one form or another," the Time Lord mused.

Picking up the thought, Martha finished it, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The oldest known version of that on Earth is by the poet Vergil. Copley… His ambition got in the way."

Shaking her head, Rakata added, "Besides. Do you know what you have up on most species? You still have the capacity of feeling horrified by whatever you've done. You are nothing like these intergalactic pepper-shaker jokes from Skaro or the potatoheads from Sontar who can't tell right from wrong."

The Doctor wasn't sure if he could share the sentiment about Daleks, but then again, not even the Daleks would have been able to adapt fast enough if the Antarian Senetas had decided to wipe them from creation – Antarian weaponry had evolved to the point it was a danger to the integrity of space-time, and was meant to fight themselves, courtesy of the Celestial Civil Wars. On top of that, the Antarians were no pacifists, unlike the Time Lords. To them, the space equivalent of the Nazis were still somewhat of a joke, considering they'd conquered and subdued their own version of it into a tool.

Trying to break the gloomy atmosphere, Ianto interrupted, "How was your trip to Antares, Rakata?"

"As annoying as it was enlightening," was the non-committal answer. "Well, at least I know now why I know tasureshes."

"How then?" Gwen wondered. "I've never seen you react like that before, you know."

Instead of answering directly, the Space Weaver took a long sip of her tea. "Do you know why there aren't any tasureshes left in all of creation?"

"No."

"Doctor. What do you know of World Locks?"

The Time Lord's head snapped up in surprise. "World Lock, also known as Spatial Barrier. The Antarian equivalent to the Moment, if I remember correctly," he considered carefully. "It works through reality instead of timelines though. Lock a region of reality-space into a miniature universe, and goodbye. Unlike a Time Lock, the World Lock cannot be broken from the inside, only from the outside, making the mechanics opposites. The drawback compared to a Time Lock is, while the Moment only needs a working TARDIS and the Key of Rassilon to initiate a Time Lock, a World Lock needs at least 20 Interdimensional Class Space Weavers to be created. Why… oh."

"Yes."

"Jack? Walker? Raka?" Gwen was a little confused.

Not so Toshiko. "I get it. You sealed the Dayfly homeworld away, didn't you, Rakatiel?"

Smiling sadly, the blue-haired woman nodded. "I did. Five million years ago I lead a team of 25 to do so to be a bit more precise, which means the tasuresh we had to deal with is from a time older than that."

"Just for curiosity, why did you exactly?" the Walker asked.

"Unseresh VI. The Unseresh system only exists on the maps of the Reality Observatory for a reason, and that is, the Tasuresh. These creatures, they were a danger for everyone… and endangered for exploitation, as we have seen today. So we put them on the high shelf, where no-one can reach them anymore that isn't us, so to speak," Raka mused. "Can you imagine what would happen if that world was on the loose?"

"No thank you. Nearly having them in my system was enough," the Walker declined.

"Owen, are you okay?" Jack said. "You haven't said a word yet."

"Sorry. Just thinking. And staring at the headlines. Looks like we missed some worldwide incident with that damn Atmos add-on for cars. Makes me glad our SUV doesn't have it." He pointed at their morning copy of the London Times and the Cardiff Herald. "And who the hell is 'The Professor', Doctor?"

Surprised, the man in question pulled out his glasses. "Give me that." Taking the printout of a UNIT report from him, he scanned the subject. «Re:ATMOS crisis, UNIT#0563 – The Professor and D. Noble resolve Sontaran Threat» "What in the nine hells is janayi up to again?" The report was addressed to all local commanders of UNIT as well as the Torchwood director, in other words, Jack.

"Doctor?!"

Taking off his glasses again, the Time Lord sighed. "Owen, 'The Professor'… is my mother. And it looks like she just saved the world in our absence." What happened while I was here in Cardiff, janayi? Donna?


AN: REVIEWS PLEASE! Coming up next, the most important woman in the universe and the most ancient of the Time Ladies with a Guest star appearance - Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart!