Coffi Chwerthinllyd; Cardiff, Wales
General Trefor Williams tracked Nessa Dove using social media. She stopped for coffee between classes. He remembered the small shop from his chance encounter with Cory Lynch which resulted in his father finding out about him sooner than he intended.
He hurried into line behind Nessa. He recognized her from her online photographs. With Jack back in the field, he opted for casual clothes and drove Ianto's car. It meant he could blend.
"Any suggestions?" Trefor removed his sunglasses.
"Is that the best you can come up with?"
"Points for trying?"
Nessa laughed. "Possibly." She looked back at him. "Does tall, dark and dangerous have bad intentions?"
"Not currently."
"Sneaky or honest."
"I've been called worse."
That amused her more. "I bet you have. You're a heart-breaker."
"Still didn't answer my original question."
She nodded. "A military guy. Likes his coffee dark and strong." She paused at the counter while they ordered. "What are you really doing here?"
"Torchwood," he said quietly. "There is a possibly security concern."
Nessa motioned for him to follow after they received their coffee and she lead him to a table in the back of the seating area.
"Is this about Malcolm?" She sat, offering his a chair with its back to the wall.
"Yeah." Trefor explained about the genetic issue.
"My family has an ability. It varies a bit from woman to woman. My brother doesn't have it." She reached out and lightly ran the tips of her fingers over the back of his hand. "Lost. Used to power but feeling powerless. You hate your father so much, you hate yourself." She lingered on his wrist above his wrist-strap briefly.
"You knew when I walked in."
Her eyes sparkled as she sipped her coffee.
"We're concerned your family could be targeted. Malcolm's immunity to the drug is widely known."
"The women of my family have been targets a long time. Healers, seers, witches. We've been accused of crimes against the Church and general patriarchy for generations." Nessa reached for his hand again. "You're not afraid of strong women, are you?" Her finger tips tingled.
"Mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea."
She laughed. "You've been working to hard. To many expectations and obligations."
"I need to go." Trefor stood.
She grabbed a napkin and a pen. "Give me a call."
Trefor exhaled sharply, stepping into the cold. The woman was intoxicating. And too young, he reminded himself, heading for the car. He had more than ten years and a million miles on her. Yet, he tucked her phone number in his pocket, and told himself he might need to call her.
It had been way to long. He'd given in to the temptation Miriam offered. That had been a bad idea. She needed to work things out with Thomas. From the woman he knew, in his time, that was a major effort. He would check out clubs. Finding someone uncomplicated was never a problem.
No matter the logic, Nessa stayed in the forefront of his mind as he headed back to Torchwood.
Torchwood Three
A block impacted, and sizzle, disrupted his thoughts. Ianto Jones moved over to the playpen and picked up Trefor and the com. Baby Trefor demanded his sister. He wasn't screaming, Ianto reminded himself. Anwen keeps one of her stuffed horses in a drawer. Either for Trefor or something to do with John. Or both. Trefor gripped the horse and settled down some.
"Did the com die?" Ianto headed back to his desk.
"No." John sounded tired. "Anwen is fixated on repairing the computer. You said Jack and I were obsessed with locks? Did we say anything to indicate why?"
"No."
"Why am I wearing work clothes and no shoes?"
Ianto explained about Jack and biometric scanner as he sat down, balancing Trefor on his lap.
"Oh, dear. Dr. Nelson's theory was a shared memory?"
"Yep."
"I doubt it."
"Is Anwen dissociated?"
"No. She has my temper and random knowledge."
"How's it affecting you?"
"I'm confiding in you, eye candy. What do you think?"
Ianto chuckled. "Do you want me to keep the com open?" The connection closed.
Trefor whimpered.
"Anwen is fine." He hoped that was true.
"Computer, play Anwen playlist one." The Monkees' theme song started. And Trefor mellowed.
Back to inventory and supplies. Which lasted until a notification chimed and blinked on the screen. They had a message from the website Bree established asking for information about people growing mushrooms. They'd received a few reports, and found no eggs, only a few pot plants.
"I hope this still works. Its not about mushrooms. Not exactly. Eddie Cattrel died because he hurt the others. I can't get involved. School, scholarships. I screwed up this year and my parents will kill me."
Ianto groaned. Logic from a teenage girl. The email originated at the Whitchurch library. It didn't take much to trace the account to Emlyn Rice, a seventeen year old girl. Which fit the message. Using her address, he checked the school where Malcolm and the other teenagers attended. She was a student and had classes with half of the kids affected by the drug, and Eddie Cattrel.
He tapped his ear com. "Gwen, are you there?"
"Yeah."
Ianto explained the message and the information.
"We need CCTV footage confirmation that Emlyn Rice sent that email. Bree and I will handle that."
"Send Jack an update."
"Will do."
With that done, he turned back to inventory. When he finished with Torchwood, he was behind with the building. Supplies, maintenance, planning. A reminder to have the brake pads on the Torchwood van replaced reminded him his car and Gwen's needed maintenance also. They needed a doctor and a mechanic.
The com beeped. He tapped it. "Anwen?"
"No. I know what the issue with the locks and Anwen with the computer."
"What?"
"Anwen is trying to get back to Trefor. She can't do it herself, so she's using the connection and my memories."
Ianto could see that. "And the locks?"
"Jack and I were probably exposed at Cattrel Industries. He heals. I have a tolerance." John sighs. "Its not locks, its freedom. I was preparing to leave. When our wires got crossed, it probably affected all four of us."
Jack came out of it when Anwen and John left Three. But that meant Jack and Trefor were affected.