Torchwood: Divergence
Book Three: Rheoleiddiad
Chapter 47
The Rift alarm sounded at that moment, but neither man moved. Unless it was something big enough to need the full team, or an all-out invasion, they were staying right where they were for the foreseeable future.
"Average spike," Gwen reported from her position. "Centred in southeast Splott."
"System flags positive for life form incursion… oh, be still my heart," Turlough added with a derisive snort. "Six Rellaphoran Singing Slugs. Why are we seeing so many of those slimy things these days?"
"I could use some air," Martha put in as she came up out of the Autopsy Lab. "Who wants to grab some buckets and beer, and go slug hunting with me?"
"I'll go," Cooper volunteered with a shrug. "Though I'd rather drink the beer than drown slugs in it."
"Let Martha drive if you do," Jack called from his spot on the couch, tossing the SUV keys to the team medic.
The two women departed with buckets from the storeroom and a PDA to track their quarry, and Turlough returned to his project.
"Seems kind of sad to kill them," he commented. "They're pretty harmless from what we've seen so far."
"Yeah, but they're a pain to explain and far too prolific to safely contain," Harkness replied, his partner snickering slightly over the unintentional rhyming. "Their only crimes to the best of my knowledge are that they're really annoying and have a taste for people's gardens. But there honestly isn't anything else we can do when they crop up. At least beer's kinder than salt."
"True," the redhead across the deck nodded. "They get to go out with goofy smiles on their squishy little faces."
"But the salt's really tempting when they decide to do Bob Dylan impressions en masse," Ianto stated quietly. "And if they start up with 'Dancing Queen', a good sharp-edged spade springs to mind."
"Ouch," the Captain half-smiled, well able to sympathise. "I remember that run just before the whole Reset problem. It was like an entire nest of about ten or twelve and totally obsessed with ABBA… I thought Owen was gonna lose his mind. Yeah, they definitely go from annoying to really needing to die after they've heard someone's stereo, or worse yet their television. Remember the ones shortly after the Strepto-Hag that kept doing a medley of bad commercial jingles between songs from 'South Pacific'? That was ugly."
"Well, the memory had been safely repressed until just now," his Archivist sighed. "Thank you for kindly dredging the whole stomach-turning experience back to the surface to haunt my dreams. My day is now complete."
Harkness couldn't help but laugh, thrilled to have the young Welshman feeling enough like his normal self for his dark, twisted sense of humour to show again.
"You two have been at this business for far too long," Turlough smirked, wandering toward the kitchenette for coffee.
"Oh, before I forget," Jack said to the younger man at his side. "Your sister would like you to ring tonight if you feel up to it. Guess your nephew wants to ask you something."
"I'll… try it after dinner," Ianto decided, his uncertainty very apparent.
"In the meantime," his lover suggested evenly. "I think we need to have another cup of coffee, maybe some of the chocolate I hid to keep Gwen away from it, and you can play Jedi Master while I try the sword exercises you've been teaching me. Pure entertainment."
"Only if you strip to the waist, and promise not to cut anything important off," the young Changeling countered.
"Deal," Harkness grinned. "You grab some coffee; I'll fetch the blade and a towel. Turlough! We're heading for the firing range!"
"Wear your comms, so you can scream if you need a medic," the redhead advised, exiting the kitchenette with his own hot drink. "Just remember that I don't work on anything that normally goes in a cod-piece or cup. So, try to limit amputations to arms, legs, and the various portions thereof."
"Kill joy!" the Captain called back as he disappeared into the office and his partner went to get the requested coffee.
"I'd never dream of depriving Ianto of the chance to kiss the other better," Turlough pointed out with a wicked smile when their leader emerged with the items he'd gone to acquire.
"Then you may want to leave the CCTV to that room off," the named Welshman commented evenly as he came down to the level of the workstations with two steaming mugs and headed for the corridor to the Boardroom and beyond.
The two immortals disappeared and their remaining teammate keyed on the CCTV to all the available views of the firing range. He couldn't care less what sexual shenanigans the pair engaged in, but he was interested in seeing how Captain Jack Harkness handled edged steel. And if he was really lucky, their resident Scieron Guardian would feel up to stepping in on the practice as well.
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Downstairs, Torchwood Three's most senior operatives entered the big blocked off tunnel. Both cups went on the weapons table, the towel over Ianto's shoulder, and the step-stool was carried from the ammo room for him to sit on. First he played valet for his partner; taking charge of braces, belt, button-up, and tee, which he carefully draped over the back of the three-step with the towel before taking a seat. Then Jack moved out into the centre of the polished concrete and tile floor with the Roman style short sword he'd dug out of storage and reconditioned a few weeks earlier.
"Feet set at shoulder width, weight more on the balls of your feet and toes, find your balance with the blade," Ianto reminded automatically. "Relax your arm and shoulders."
The Captain did as he was instructed, then began the warm up his Archivist had taught him, an exercise not unlike what the younger man used for meditation. When the weight of the sword felt comfortable and familiar in both hands, he progressed to the defence routines the Welshman had been guiding him through.
"Too low," the seated twenty-six-year-old called at one parry, sipping his coffee.
Jack ran through that part of the drill again, only to hear the same correction. Silver flashed as the room's other occupant rose from his seat, a mirror bright duplicate of the Roman sword materialising in his right hand.
"Follow," the Changeling advised gently, coming to stand a couple yards to the left of the older man and instantly shifting into the correct fighting stance with incredible ease. "You always want to parry with the idea of keeping things away from your head, heart, and other vital organs."
He went through the troublesome set of moves bit by bit so his partner could match them. They repeated the group of defensive positions until he was sure that the other immortal was getting that parry right, then banished his own weapon and returned to the step-stool sounding slightly short of breath.
"Much better," Ianto pronounced when the Captain ran through the moves by himself, and moved on to the next part of the exercise.
He let his companion go through the full exercise three times, then gained his feet once more, pushed up the sleeves of the black military style jumper he wore, and called a blade back to his hand.
"Okay, I'll go slow for now," the young Welshman warned. "And try to pull if you miss blocking my blade. But I want you to parry the best you can using the exercises you just did. Relax a minute… then let me know when you're ready."
Jack took some deep breaths, wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his free hand, then shifted into a ready stance once more. And his Archivist came for him as promised. Steel rang against steel, until there was a dangerous hiss of sliding metal and the Scieron blade vanished before it could touch the American's body. But it was back in an instant, making the man defend himself with every move he'd been learning. Twice more the Guardian's blade simply dissolved, yet most of the attacks were warded off cleanly and correctly. Until that problem parry came up a second time and Harkness belatedly tried to correct the position of his sword. He felt a breath of scorching air just below his sternum, even as his companion grabbed the wrist of his sword arm to move the blade aside and banished his own weapon.
They both stood panting for a moment, gazes locked, and Ianto reached out to touch his lover's chest even as he released the man's captured wrist so he could lower his sword. This was not how either of them had anticipated the lesson would end.
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AN: A little time for the team to catch their breaths. More angst to come though…
The site actually let me post on a Sunday. Mark the day!
Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM