Torchwood: Dragon Age Episode One "End of Days"

Chapter 7: Dead

CONTENT:

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Drama

Language: a bit

Violence: no

Nudity: slightly (m)

Sex: not really, but Zevran does grope someone

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

Author's Notes:

"Dead" until I can think of an actual chapter title. Considering how I suck at names, possibly forever.

NOTE: Remember, in this AU, the Doctor does not appear at the end of this episode, and Jack doesn't go anywhere.

Dead

===#===

"Are you going to be home tonight, then?" Rhys asked into the phone, trying not to sound impatient.

"I don't know..." Gwen's voice sounded small and hollow, and very far away. "I'm sorry, love; I just don't know. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise. I love you, Rhys."

"Love you too, Gwen," he answered, though he wasn't sure she'd heard. The line was closed again. Rhys sighed. He knew Gwen was married to her work when she'd been a police woman. No reason for that to change, now that she was working on some hush-hush special force. He worried about her. Things were far hairier than he could have imagined.

Still... a woman like that was worth it, wasn't she?

===#===

Ianto watched the monitor, unconsciously toying with his lip. He'd been back 'tidying' in Jack's office again. Not that there was anything left to tidy after the first dozen times. The team commander hadn't been in there; he was dead.

That was him, on the monitor, lying on the slab, ready to be closed up in one of the Torchwood cryochambers. Entombed like a pharaoh, but with only a number and an index card to mark his final resting place. Gwen was there with him, sitting in the corner now, her phone folded closed and forgotten in one hand. The graininess of the monitor exaggerated the dark circles under her eyes, rendering her face into a skull.

Owen came up, looking over Ianto's shoulder. "She still at it?"

"Yes." Ianto hadn't noticed the klaxons as the main door to the Hub had opened to let Owen and Tosh in. They'd gone home of nights, but came back looking as haggard as Ianto felt. And Gwen hadn't left the morgue except for brief excursions to take care of necessities.

"It's been four days," Owen said. "We have to put an end to this."

"He said he couldn't die."

"He is dead, Ianto." The doctor's voice hardened. "A huge damned demon sucked the life - all the life - right out of him."

"And whose fault is that?" Ianto snarled at him.

"Mine!" Owen snapped right back. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't feel guilty enough about it? About every life snuffed out by that- that thing?" He whirled away, paced a few steps.

"You made a mistake," came a sultry Latin voice from above. "People died. It happens."

The men looked up to where two elves leaned on the catwalk rail, one blond, one brunette, wearing some of Owen's old sweats and T's.

"Haven't you lot escaped yet?" Owen grumbled.

"Oh, sorry," said Zevran, the Latin - or whatever - one. "Did you accidentally leave the door open and we missed it?"

Owen rubbed his face. "Look," he said to Ianto, "this ends today. At noon, if there's no change, we close-"

"Ah, no," Ianto told him. "You're not the one in charge."

"I'm second in command!"

"You were fired, in case you'd forgotten."

Owen threw his hands up. "So who do you think is in charge, then? Gwen?" He waved dismissively at the monitor. "Gwen's a basket case!"

Ianto just stared levelly at him.

Owen snorted. "What, you? You think you're in charge? Being Jack's rent-boy doesn't give you any rank in this organization."

Ianto bristled, but he kept his voice tightly under control. "I think I'm just a bit better at making decisions than you are."

Owen blanched. Ianto had shot him when he'd tried to open the Rift. The first time, anyway. "Fine," he said. "What are we going to do? We can't just sit here, waiting forever."

Ianto licked his lips. "We'll see." He looked at the monitor. Neither figure had moved. "We'll decide at noon."

"You can't keep us here forever, either," Bannon said, still up on the catwalk.

"It's too dangerous for you out there," Ianto told the elves for the millionth time. They rolled their eyes. "You could get killed. Or arrested." Clearly, his words were going in one pointy ear and out the other. He gave up. Integrating a group of people from 1950 into modern society was one thing. These elves were going to take a lot more work.

Ianto grabbed a steno pad to start outlining an education program in earnest. He headed towards the conference room. Owen followed. "What are we going to do with those two?" the doctor asked, keeping his voice low. Elves had exceptional hearing.

"Jack wanted them to work with us."

"You know how mad that is?" Owen protested. "Elves? Working in Torchwood?"

"What do you suggest? Santa's workshop?"

===#===

The shems continued arguing into the soundless glass room. Bannon came down off the catwalk and went to Toshiko's workstation. He appropriated a second stool while Zevran lurked nearby.

The pretty human woman looked up briefly to smile at him. Her glasses flashed with reflections from the lighted boxes, hiding her lovely dark, almond eyes. Bannon smiled back. Toshiko said, "Yes, I'm still working on the Rift data. You know this is going to take some time."

Bannon nodded.

"I'm afraid it's not very interesting to watch," she said self-deprecatingly. "Just a lot of numbers crunching."

"Did you hear that argument?" Bannon tipped his head towards the conference room.

"You're wondering why nobody put me in charge?"

Bannon smiled. Toshiko was a smart woman. Very dangerous. "Well, it seems curious."

"I agree," Zevran said. "A capable woman such as yourself should indeed have a place in the command structure."

She shook her head. "No, no. I'm a tech. I make things, gadgets. I analyse data." She returned to tapping at her device. "I am not a 'people person.' And especially not a decision-maker."

"A pity," Zevran said. "I'm sure you could do marvelous things, had you a group of hardy young men to obey your every whim."

Toshiko's face flushed a bit darker. Bannon nibbled his lip. Someone had done a good job of crushing her confidence. It was a shame, really. With a quick glance to Zevran, he stood up and asked the woman, "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

Zevran came over and leaned on Toshiko's desk, at her elbow. "Would you mind, my dear, if we stayed to watch you work? Your lovely form is so entrancing, we could stare for hours. I promise, we shall remain still and silent; you will not even know we are here."

She stopped typing and sighed. "Zevran, this will go much better without you distracting me. And Bannon," she said without turning around, "working out these Rift equations is going to take even longer if I have to stop and update security protocols because you stole my keys again."

Zevran cocked an eyebrow at him. Bannon bit his lip and gently set Toshiko's purse back down. He shrugged at his partner.

===#===

The cup of coffee Ianto had brought sat cooling on the morgue's tile floor. Noon, he'd told Gwen. They had given Jack until noon. She paced, fretting, her stomach panging with hunger, which she ignored. "Come on, Jack," she muttered to him. "Give us a sign. Something." He hadn't moved or changed in all this time. He was dead. "I have faith in you," she whispered into the empty morgue, the faintest tremor in her voice.

Everyone filed in. Gwen stood her ground on the other side of the drawer, trying not to feel beleaguered. Owen and Ianto came to Jack's side; Tosh hovered in a corner. Those two elves stood behind the men. Gwen fisted her hands in the edge of the shroud. "Don't do this."

"Luv," Owen said gently, "he's dead. Let it go."

"No!"

"It's been four days."

"There's no law saying resurrections have to occur within three days!" Calm be damned, she was not giving up on Jack!

Ianto came around to her side, a solicitous hand ready for her. Angrily, she shoved him away. Bannon moved closer to the body - to Jack; he wasn't a corpse. "Do you mind?" he asked softly. Owen gave him a shrug, and the elf pressed his hands gently on Jack's stomach, frowning in thought.

Ianto and Gwen watched, while Zevran circled behind them and stood across from his partner. Gwen wasn't done fighting. "You can't do this," she insisted. Owen's face was stone. She turned to Ianto. "You can't give up on him."

"You've seen this more than any of us," Ianto said. "You know how... how it works. Is this normal?" He was grasping at straws, hoping she could reassure him.

She shook her head. She put her face in her hands. This time, she let Ianto put his arm around her shoulders.

"Uh, I don't want to be indelicate," Bannon said hesitantly. "But he doesn't smell dead."

The humans all looked at him.

"He's right," Zevran agreed. "You've kept him out of the sun, and it is relatively cool in here..." He shrugged. "But after four days, he should be rather noticeably ripe."

Owen frowned and took hold of Jack's hand. He peered at the fingertips, stretched the fingers and let them relax back to their neutral curl.

"So he's not dead?" Ianto hazarded.

"No, he's dead," said Owen. "He went through rigor. I checked the body temperature, lividity..." The doctor shrugged, perplexed. "He's definitely dead."

Zevran, without asking, stuck his hand up under the hospital gown and started groping Jack.

"Hey!" Gwen rounded on him. "Get your hands off him!"

"I'm only checking his limp-idity," the elf said.

"It's not 'limpidity,' it's 'lividity,'" Owen snapped. "And that's not how you check it!"

"If that didn't get a reaction, he's definitely dead," Ianto quipped morbidly. Tosh put a hand to her mouth. Gwen shot him a blazing look.

Zevran said, "It is the softest flesh that decomposes first, no? He seems quite intact."

Owen frowned, then he reached out and pulled the gown up to have a look.

"Owen!" Gwen gasped.

"I'm a doctor," he said, rolling his eyes at her. "I'm allowed to look." He peered a minute, then said, "They're right. He's not decomposing."

"So he's only mostly dead?" Ianto asked.

"And 'mostly dead' is still somewhat alive," Tosh supplied, moving a bit closer.

Gwen asked, "Can we do anything? If we raise his body temperature, will it speed up his metabolism? Help him heal faster?"

"He doesn't have a metabolism," Owen insisted. "He's dead. He's not healing. There's no blood circulation, no brain activity."

"Well, he's doing something," Gwen argued. "There must be something we can do to help."

"I don't know. This is beyond any medical science. But raising his temperature could help, or it could give bacteria and decay a boost that would overwhelm this... whatever it is." Owen rubbed his head in frustration. "Since we don't know anything, we shouldn't do anything. We don't know what will help or what will hurt. We'll just... have to keep waiting."

"For how long?" Ianto asked.

"Until there's any change," Owen said. "One way or the other."

===#===

The others filed out, leaving Gwen alone in her vigil once more. She looked down on Jack's face, so grey, so lifeless. Gently, she brushed his hair back from his forehead. Then she fussed with the hospital gown, tugging it straight, to give her hands something to do.

She thought back on Bilis' promise. He'd restored Rhys to her, by whatever arcane magic or alien science, but at what cost? Had Jack been taken away from her, from life, forever? She brushed back a tear. She couldn't think that way. "I have faith in you, Jack," she told him, combing her fingers through his hair once more. "Come back to us. Come back to me."

She bent and pressed her lips to his forehead. She lingered a moment, marshaling her strength to push back her fears. The a moment longer as the sensation permeated her lips. He wasn't cold.

She leaned back and pressed a hand to his cheek. Was she imagining it? As she watched, his lips parted in a faint exhalation.

"Jack?" she whispered, hardly daring to hope.

His eyelids opened slowly, fluttered. After a moment, his eyes focused on her. His lips moved, forming a word, but the only sound that came from his throat was a dry click.

"Thank God." Gwen smiled and pressed her hand more firmly to his cheek.

"Gwe-" he managed this time.

"You're all right. Everything is all right. You're safe." She lifted her head. "Owen!" she called.

Jack stirred feebly. Gwen didn't know if she should help him sit up or insist he lie still until he was stronger. After a moment, he gave up and looked around. "How... How... long?" he rasped.

"It's been four days."

He closed his eyes.

===#===

"Owen!" Ianto barked, staring at the monitor. "Tosh! He's alive!" He turned and bolted towards the morgue. Toshiko reflexively tapped a key to save her work, then raced after him.

Owen stood up at his workstation, but couldn't seem to make his feet move. He heard voices on the monitor, joyous chatter as the others celebrated the miraculous return of their leader. He wasn't dead after all.

Owen should have been the first to go in there; the medic, to assess the physical health of their commander. Instead, he stood there, legs locked in paralysis.

After that argument they'd had, Owen's accusations, recriminations, Jack's threat and Owen's rage... after shooting Jack with malice, after unleashing that monster... How could Owen face him?

But he had to. Jack had been right.

Woodenly, he moved forward, tensing up inside. He was coiled like a spring by the time he got down to the morgue. Jack stood there among the others, still a pale ghost of himself.

Owen approached, like a pariah dog to the leader of the pack. He felt the others part, felt Jack's eyes on him, though he had his head down, his eyes on the floor. He expected a harsh rebuke, another dismissal, and he deserved that and more. When he was met with nothing but silence, he lifted his gaze, not daring to hope.

Jack's face held no anger, only pain. Owen felt he should say something, offer an apology, but his throat locked against it. He'd never apologized in his damned life, and how inadequate it was now.

Jack's look softened. Even without words, he seemed to understand. He took a step towards Owen, and Owen finished closing the gap. Jack enfolded him in a hug and Owen, for once, didn't care how it looked; he needed comforting so badly.

He closed his eyes and pressed his face to the captain's shoulder. "Why didn't you retcon me?"

"Well, I was a little busy," Jack replied softly.

"You're not, now."

"What makes you think I'm going to retcon you now?"

Owen pulled back, his eyes once more cast down, but dammit, he couldn't bring himself to look into the face of the man he'd betrayed. "Because I was wrong. I made a mistake. All those people... they're dead because of me."

Gwen's voice drifted from beyond the captain's shoulder. "We are all responsible."

Jack grasped Owen by the shoulders. "You made a mistake. People died." His voice was like flint, and Owen's breath caught in his throat. "Now you want to just erase that guilt and go on with your life as if nothing happened?"

Owen swallowed.

"No," Jack continued, with the rebuke Owen had been waiting for, but not the way he'd expected. "You don't get off that easy. You learn from your mistake, and you make up for those lives by saving others."

"Here in Torchwood," Owen said dully.

"That's why we're here."

Of course. It was the only way. Gratitude flooded Owen. He did not deserve this second chance. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Though I think a suspension is in order," Jack added. "Double shifts, no pay."

Again, Owen nodded mutely, still unable to master himself and erect his barriers of detachment and acerbity.

Jack, regaining his strength by the minute, looked around at the others. "The rest of you, double shifts, half pay." They all cringed. "Now. Conference room in ten for a debriefing."

Ianto said, "Can I get you anything, sir?"

"You know, my first thought was 'pants,' but after standing on this cold floor, socks are priority one."

"Right away, sir."

Jones was halfway out the door when the captain's next question stopped him. "And which one of you undressed me?"

Owen and Ianto shared a furtive look. One the captain didn't fail to pick up on.

"Ah hah," he said, one of those lascivious smiles creeping across his face. "And I missed it? This may require a re-enactment at the debrief."

Ianto flushed and resumed his fetching duties. Owen began one of his sarcastic retorts. "Yeah, well..." But his heart wasn't in it. Perhaps it was his own tenuous mood he was projecting, but he thought Jack's humor was a brittle veneer to hide his pain from his team. Muttering some lame negation, Owen headed out of the morgue.

===#===

Jack went out with Toshiko and Gwen. He didn't need to lean on them, but their presence was comforting. Ianto brought over a full change of clothes draped over one arm.

Jack eagerly grabbed the socks, because he hadn't been joking about the cold floor. His feet felt like ice. Gwen steadied him with one hand on his elbow as he pulled them on. He wished he could put his boots on next; the steel grille floor plates weren't comfortable on bare feet, either. But no. Until he regained all the body heat he'd lost, the Hub was not comfortable for running around nearly naked. He grabbed his boxers next.

A voice called down from the gantry. "Hey, when can we leave?"

Startled, Jack looked up to see those lithe, long-haired elves leaning on the rail. They certainly warmed things up - but wait a minute. "You're still here?" he asked, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Yah," Bannon said in annoyance.

Jack turned to Gwen. "I guess this means no 'cosmic flush'?"

She grimaced. "Afraid not."

"Damn." Cleanup on this one was going to be a mother of a bitch.

"You cannot keep us here," Zevran was arguing.

"You belong in the Vault," Owen told him.

"We're not staying in your damned dungeon," Bannon shot back.

"Let them go," Jack called, cutting them off.

Owen whirled. "You're not serious?"

Tosh said, "Jack, they're aliens."

"Yes, I'm serious," he said. "They can pass as human, and they're quite capable of handling themselves."

Ianto frowned. "Out there? On their own?"

"Good point. Why don't you get them some packs, some supplies they'll need." Jack gave Ianto a pointed look.

The corner of one of Ianto's eyebrows twitched. "Certainly, sir." He foisted the pile of clothing onto Toshiko, and went to carry out his orders.

The elves seemed mollified. Happy, even. Owen seemed annoyed, but that could also be read as a good sign. He didn't argue, so he still had some way to go in returning to normal.

Jack finished getting dressed while he gave the elves some survival tips. Mostly 'don't kill anyone,' and 'be careful crossing the street.' Both Tosh and Gwen looked on in concern, but said nothing. Jack wasn't sure if he should be glad of their trust in him, or worried that they were overcompensating for their part in the mutiny.

Well, it would all sort itself out. Right now, he was glad not to have to try to explain himself.

Ianto returned with two laden backpacks. Zevran and Bannon eagerly slung them over their shoulders.

"And remember," Jack finished, "any time you want to come back, don't hesitate. We'll be here. Ianto? Can you escort them out, please?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Actually," Bannon said, halting. "Can we use your garderobe before we go?"

"It's called a loo," his partner interjected.

"Of course," Ianto said. The two scampered off, and Ianto called after them, "Remember! A clean loo is a happy loo." Jack rolled his eyes at him. Ianto shrugged. "I can at least hope to impress good cleaning habits on someone."

"Just take them up and show them the door. Oh, and-" Whatever he was about to say was drowned out by a deep, primordial moan that seemed to echo throughout the underground labyrinth of the Hub.

Everyone turned to Jack, who grimaced sheepishly and put a hand over his stomach. Ianto quirked a brow and said, "I was just about to ask 'pizza or Thai.' Should I take that as 'both'?"

"Actually, when I'd really go for is some steak and potatoes."

Ianto thought a moment. "Clancy's homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes?"

Jack's mouth watered. "Ianto, I could kiss you." The corner of Ianto's other eyebrow twitched. "But, since that would only delay the call to make the order, I'll refrain." He turned towards the conference room while Ianto pulled out his mobile.

The elves reappeared from their trip to freshen up. Not only did they have their backpacks, but they'd changed out of their borrowed street clothes and back into their leather armor - complete with weapon harnesses and swords.

"I'd really advise you to stick with clothes that blend in," Jack told them.

They shook their heads. Bannon said, "We're not going out unprotected."

"Don't kill anyone," Jack reiterated.

"Just tell us where the Alienage is."

"There is no Alienage here."

"Well where's the nearest city that does have one?"

Jack was at a loss, but Ianto finished making his call and came over. "For the hundredth time, we do not have alienages in our cities, nor do we have any elves on this planet. Nor dwarves, halflings, or orcs."

"What's an orc?" Zevran asked.

"You can always stay here," Jack offered. "And we can help you acclimate to this world."

"Yeah, sure." Bannon snorted. "So we have to work for you. No thanks."

Jack shrugged and spread his hands, gesturing for them to go on. Ianto led them out.

Gwen was giving him that look again. This time, she voiced her concern. "Are you sure this is the best course of action?"

"Yes. You heard them. If we force them to stay here, they'll only resent us."

Tosh said, "You think they'll be back?"

"Oh, I think so," said Jack with a grin. "In fact, I'd bet on it. Shall we start up another betting pool?"

===#X#===

End Notes:

"So he's only mostly dead?" Ianto asked.

"And 'mostly dead' is still somewhat alive," Tosh supplied, moving a bit closer.

I know you know this one! ...you better know this one! :X

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The story will continue in Episode Two: "Pointy-Eared Street Punks." Stay tuned to the front page!