Chapter Text
The road was endlessly long when traveled on foot. The man looked up, one hand on his head to keep his hat from blowing away as yet another car whistled its way past him on the hardtop street. The sun was out, battling against the chilly wind of the north. The lapel of his jacket flapped in the breeze, nearly smacking him in the face. His bangs flung into his face. He pushed the dark locks back and scanned the horizon.
Cardiff. He’d been wanting to come to this place. The death, the chaos, the multitudes of lives sitting on a bomb, all unknowing of their fates. The raw, unbridled emotion that was indelibly stamped on every street corner, in every building, the screams and the pleas for restitution. The hearts still pounding out their last hopes and dreams and fears.
He hefted his backpack higher on his shoulder. The shift caused a horrendous clacking as the thing’s contents cracked against each other.
“Shh,” he whispered, moving the backpack a bit slower. “Just you wait. We’ll get you all set up shortly. We’re almost there.”
He stepped forward.
It had been a while since he’d been in Cardiff. Jack threw his shoulders back as he stepped off the train and looked around. He put his hands in his pockets. It didn’t look like it had changed much. Still gray. Still busy and full of life, despite what it had gone through because of his brother and the 456.
Still horribly empty.
He took a deep breath. His nostrils flared in momentary pain at the biting cold; September it might have been, but winter had already snaked its tendrils into the air. Such was the way of things in Cardiff. At least one got sunshine most of the time. Unlike in London.
He walked down the familiar streets, turning willfully blind eyes on the places he passed, the people he saw. He knew better than to look for once-familiar faces; through his time as an immortal, he had seen too many people die to think he might catch sight of them again.
Hence why he’d needed, so desperately, to get away.
The leaves on the trees were still green despite the chill; he passed several planted deliberately along the walkways before he made it to the meatier part of the city. Here, the crowds gathered, the hubbub of Cardiff increasing for a short moment as he passed the major business section of the city, before dropping off into near emptiness. Here, only a few people lined the streets, each with someplace better to be. Nevermind the pretty architecture or the fancy waterworks on it, newly rebuilt. Nevermind the man walking up to a single slab of sidewalk and disappearing. They had better places to be.
The sidewalk shifted, then slid down. The recess below shone blue, a startling contrast to the yellowish tone of the sidewalk above. He watched as that blue encompassed his vision, as the familiar sight of Torchwood took over his vision. He had been surprised to find the slab still worked, even more surprised to find the area beneath so similar to how it had once been. As he slid toward the ground, the high call of the pterodactyl greeted him. He turned wide eyes on Myfanwy, amazed to see it alive, even though he’d sent her out before he’d blown up. There was no looking at her without remembering how he met her or how she got her name.
He moved past the entrance, past Toshiko’s computer hub, past the stairs that spiraled down to Owen’s medical lab. Both looked slightly different; the computers at Tosh’s old station were newer, the pictures once lining them gone, replaced with a new set. The steps leading down to Owen’s medical lab were lined on one side with a ramp – so people could more easily go up and down if they were, say, bleeding out. His steps traced the path to his old office. Gwen had moved in here; he could see immediately that she’d put her things up around where once had been his own, creating a space within a space. The desk was new, but in the same place its predecessor had resided. The wall, once filled to the brim with alien artifacts, was now nearly empty. The desk, too, had only a few papers on it and two photos. He picked up one, a simple, small picture frame, only to be greeted with the smiles of their old group. He stared at Owen and Toshiko, on opposite sides of the still, though Toshiko’s gaze had begun to wander by the time the picture had been taken. He saw his own smile, wide and unfettered, basking in the joy of having a team that finally felt like a family. Then he saw Ianto, smiling mutedly beside himself, his shoulders and back relaxed in the way they only did around members of their team, and he very quickly put the picture back down. The other, he saw, was a picture of her and Rhys and a beautiful baby girl.
He looked around. A coat rack remained, though it had been moved to a corner. The item vaults – what was left of them – looked to have been fixed as well as possible. Some of the containers even looked the same, preserving what was inside despite the destruction caused to the hub. He twirled a bit, letting his coat flare around him. He could almost smell coffee in the air. For a second, it smelled amazing. Just like how Ianto always made it. Then the smell really hit his nose, and it smelled stale and bitter and pungent. Because Ianto was no longer there to make it, or to clean it up, or to taste it on his lips ‘to see if he’d gotten it right.’
Jack closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He’d lost several lovers over his horribly long lifespan. This one was just fresher. That was why it was taking him so long to move on from it.
He heard movement down below. He grinned and stepped out of the office. Gwen pointed toward the computer hub, snapping orders to some poor newbie. The tall man ran to do as told, properly whipped into shape by the woman. His grin widened. “Miss me?” he called out. Gwen snapped her head around. The man made some some of squeaky noise and yanked out his gun. Gwen made a shushing motion at him, even as her face split into a wide grin. “Jack! When did you get back? What d’you think?”
“Just now,” he said with a shrug. “It’s looking good, Gwen. You made some improvements.”
“About time someone redecorated this place. Brought it into the twenty-first century, you know?” She laughed. “Got a comfortable couch, too.”
“Our couch was comfortable,” he said. He opened his mouth, ready to make a joke about having good memories on that couch – but he did remember, and it wasn’t good. So he quickly switched to, “I like the ramp.”
“Me, too. Except when Andy tried to slide down it on a skateboard. That wasn’t a fun trip to hospital, I can tell you that.”
“Live the dream, Andy,” he said, turning to the man, and watched him flush. He felt nothing at the sight of it save, deep within him, a flicker of amusement. No lust, no pleasure. Just a souring feeling in his stomach. He looked back at Gwen. “So you’ve got a greenie to entertain you.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Ah, this is Andy. You know, my friend from the police station? He’s just been helping out around here for me while I get this organized. Situated, you know?” Gwen dismissed the man with a wave of her hand – something Andy noticed himself, Jack saw – and raced up the stairs to his side. “It’s good to see you. I was worried…”
Andy’s eyes remained wide as he holstered his gun. Jack saw trembles still shivering down those pale shoulders. He watched them for a second before turning his grin back on Gwen. He knew what she’d been worried about. He didn’t know how to tell her that she was right to be. “I came to see how you were doing. It looks like you’re surviving better than I expected. But no recruits?” He shook his head. “You can’t do all this alone.”
She frowned. “I won’t have to. You’re back now.”
He winced.
He had no intention of staying. There was little chance he would ever want to see this city again, no matter that those few he had left could only be found here. He’d come to see Gwen for a few days, maybe check how Torchwood was doing. See how Gwen’s leadership went. But staying here… knowing what was now lying in the back room with any other remaining bodies… no. He couldn’t be here.
He hadn’t intended to tell Gwen. But he would have to. Later.
“For now, how about you show me around?” he said, thinking to take a look at the basement, the state of the Rift. Something to keep his mind busy. An investigation. A mystery. An unfinished alien puzzle. They could say their goodbyes around a weevil outbreak.
“Sure. Andy, d’you mind?” Gwen pointed over her shoulder, toward the exit, and Jack took a deep breath. Ah. Socializing. Good. Great. He was a master at that by now. “We’re gonna head to lunch. Could you just watch the monitors for me? Let me know if anything changes, yeah?” ‘d already started moving to the exit. Andy opened his mouth as if to say something, then grimaced. Jack clapped him on the back as he passed.
“It’s good you’re helping her out. It’s overwhelming, but you don’t need to worry. She’s good at it.”
Andy nodded, his shoulders rising seemingly of their own volition to hide his neck. “Good at this, yeah. Good at listening? Maybe not.” The man turned away and skulked over to the computer system Tosh had set up. He stared at them all, but he didn’t sit.
Gwen walked back to him. “Jack? You coming?”
Jack watched the man for a bit. It seemed he wasn’t happy about only being there to help for a short period of time. He looked to Gwen and lowered his voice. “If you don’t think he can handle being a part of Torchwood, you’re going to have to wipe his memory. And soon. Before he gets any ideas.”
She waved him off with a snort. “Andy? He’s harmless. Got a couple of good hands to help out with, though, you know?” She rolled her eyes at the look her gave her. “Fine! I was gonna give it to him in a few weeks, when I found someone to be able to help out. I suppose, since you’re back, I won’t be needing his immediate services anymore.” She grinned and turned away. He wasn’t able to return the smile. He had to tell her, but taking care of the imminent threat Andy posed came first. The man was going to be disoriented enough, losing so much of his memory to the pill. He looked over to Andy again. The man hadn’t moved. He still wasn’t sitting. Instead he leaned against the desk and glared at the monitors. He was a powder keg just waiting to explode. Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. Should he have stayed? But just the thought of remaining for longer than a day or two had every muscle in him twitching. He didn’t want to be here. He couldn’t stand the reminders.
He left.
He and Gwen had a wonderful time catching up; he told her about the places he’d been, Venice and Warsaw and Porto. He strung sentences together about the people he’d met, the beautiful men and women and even a long story on the beautiful hermaphroditic alien whom he’d saved from a band of thugs in Lyon. Gwen gave him a soft smile and asked him if he’d had fun. He knew what she was really asking. He just smiled. “Yeah,” he said, and pretended it was the whole truth.
In return, Gwen told him about her and Rhys, how Rhys had taken to being the stay-at-home dad for their new daughter, Anwen. Anwen was a beautiful four-month-old and had mastered the art of gurgling and cooing. She’d been six pounds, four ounces at her birth and had nearly made Gwen get a Caesarian because she’d refused to come out. She loved pulling Gwen’s hair and sticking her fingers in Rhys’ eyes. Jack loved her. She told him about the renovations, about getting a few people in to clean the remnants, only to be retconned, then to get builders, all of whom were retconned, as well. It had taken ten months, and Gwen had gone into labor well before it had all been over. He could imagine Rhys freaking out as Gwen forced herself back to work. Jack breathed deep. Rhys would be angry at Jack for leaving her alone. Gwen, however, seemed to understand.
Eventually the conversation turned, as it always did, and as they strung out the last of their meal, Gwen leaned forward in her seat and put her elbows on the table. “So why did you come back now, huh?” At his blank look, she said, “you’ve been gone for over a year, Jack. And now you’re back, asking to have a tour. So what’s going on, eh?”
He leaned forward, too. “So there is something happening. What?”
She rolled her eyes and sat back. “Nothing! Well, the weevils went wild for a bit. Remember how they lost it when Owen…” She waved her hand in the air, only to still when she reached that particular subject. They both winced. “Well. They went wild like that again. A bunch of them, all over the place, wandering like they just lost another king. And then there’ve been weird things about dreams, people hearing the voices of their lost loved ones. But it’s not Rift activity, I’ve checked it more times than I can count.”
He sat back, too. He hadn’t actually come for anything, but now it was starting to seem as if he’d returned at just the right time. “Not the Rift? Is there anything else that happens around the time they see these ‘ghosts’?”
She shook her head. “No. And it’s not ‘seeing,’ really. They hear voices, usually screams, or they feel a presence. I dunno, it’s just weird. The reports keep coming in, people thinking their loved ones are actually there, or something. Andy thought it would be something for us, but without a Rift connection, I was thinking it was nothing. Until you came back.” She sipped at her drink until she reached the bottom. He endured the empty sucking sound until she put it back down. “That’s why you’re back, yeah? There’s something to this, after all. Andy’s going to hold this over my head–”
“No, it’s not why I’m back. But it does sound interesting.” He stood, his food – most of what he’d been given still left on his plate – forgotten. “So where did this all start? Who was the first person to be so disturbed they went to the police over it?”
She stood, too. “Really? Right now? You haven’t even finished your plate.”
He waved off the concern. “Come on, then. Show me the way. You’ve gotten my attention.”
“I’ve – wait, Jack!” She ran to catch up with him. And just like that, she was caught in his pace. Perfect. “I thought you already knew about this? Why’d you come back, if not for this?”
“It really was just to see how you’ve been. But a mystery!” he said, rubbing his hands together and letting his coat flap slightly behind him. “That’s even better. So. Tell me.”
And she did.
It turned out that, in the past few months, the reports of ghosts and familiar voices had turned up at an almost exponential rate. The sounds only lasted for a short time, and the feeling of their presence rose until it was apparently like having them back in the room. Some swore they could even hear someone moving around, heard doors opening and closing. Footsteps. Breathing. They also saw a light – though that one differed slightly; the light could be red, or blue, or pink, or even black.
Gwen had gone to several of these peoples’ homes, but she hadn’t found anything – no Rift activity, no scans or readings, no signs of any sort of disturbance.
That was what made him frown.
Cardiff was a hotspot of activity. Gwen had gone to no less than a dozen homes, and she hadn’t found a single thing – not one thing wrong in any of them. It was as if they lived in a perfectly quiet neighborhood on a perfectly dependable street. But this was Cardiff. There was no such thing as a safe street.
But sure enough, when he made his way from house to house, Gwen tagging along to act as buffer between him and the still-distraught families, he found nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He turned to Gwen after the fifth house. See lifted a brow. “Well? Nothing, am I right? It’s a dead end, isn’t it?”
He just looked at her. She really needed someone to help her, if something like this slipped past her. Her, of all people, who usually caught on to things so fast. Whoever she got, however, it wouldn’t be him. “Let’s take a look back at the base,” was all he said. He turned. They’d left her helper there too long, anyway.
They walked down the streets in a companionable silence for a few minutes, just taking in the crisp wind and the bustle of the people around them. They passed a few groups, each of them laughing and joking together. His heart pounded sickly at the sight. He knew how short, how fragile, those lives were. That laughter would fade into silence in a matter of days. Every time he grew complacent with the idea of time – with the thought that, if he only had a few years, they would last a few decades, at least – only to have those lives ripped from him once again, faster than a blink. If he didn’t end them himself. He sucked in a deep breath, whistling it past the thick feeling in his chest.
He’d already lived so long. In all that time, he’d met plenty of lovers, had plenty of children. He’d lost Estelle to the years, and then to the so-called fae. He lost Alice’s mother, Praehorian, Greg. So many. His children were older than him, if not already dead themselves. But never before had he chosen one of his descendants, looked them in the eye, and killed them. Steven was proof that immortals lived long enough to become demons. Ianto, Tosh, Owen – they were proof that immortals took people living ordinary lives and ruined them. Destroyed them. Look at the doctors’ companions. Rose, trapped in another dimension. Martha, joined the UNIT, her life as a nurse gone. Donna, memories stripped from her. Lives altered so drastically, simply by being in contact with the Doctor. And Jack’s loved ones, so warped by his presence that their lives became ticking time bombs.
He’d lost so many whom he’d called family. He’d lost more friends than he could count, even more who had wished to become lovers but had not been given the chance. Lovers. Children.
Because of all that experience, he knew without a doubt that the few short years he’d had knowing Ianto would never fade from his mind.
He stopped short. “Gwen.” He scowled. “Didn’t you teach that kid how to lock up behind him?”
Gwen stopped, too, her eyes wide. “I ordered him never to leave if I wasn’t there, or to let anyone inside. Just in case, you know?”
Well, shit.
The door to Torchwood swung wide. For a moment, he was actually relieved; he didn’t have to worry if Ianto was all right. The worst had already happened. But Andy was inside, and Torchwood itself, barely renovated after the bomb, had been breached. It was hardly a good sign.
He pulled out his gun. Behind him, he heard Gwen do the same.
The entrance to the office was dark when they stepped inside, Jack taking the lead. The light from outside shined a conical swath on the corner of the counter and the wall behind it. The counter where Ianto had once stood cast shadows within shadows within the deeper bowls of the room. Jack kicked the door open wide. No one. The door leading down into the hub was closed.
He checked behind the counter while Gwen moved toward the door. He hissed at her as she made to open it. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not pregnant anymore,” she said. “You were gone too long for that one.”
“Yeah. Now you just have a baby to look after.” He gently moved her out of the way and opened the door himself.
The darkness of the false tourist office continued down below. The lights here should have been on. They were always on.
He hurried down the stairs.
Emergency light switches could be found all over the hub; he snapped one on as he made it to the bottom of the stairs, Gwen taking the steps a bit slower than him, cognizant of her mortality. The lights flickered for a moment, then burned a dim orange. The shadows in the hub stretched wide and long. His gaze swept over the room; Myfanwy flew above. It called out to him as he looked up toward his – Gwen’s – office, down toward the medical lab. That was when he saw the body crumpled on the floor by the computers.
“Andy!” Gwen’s voice punched into the room, and she ran past him to the downed man. Jack cursed under his breath and followed, keeping his weapon up.
She dropped to the floor beside the man – and yes, it was Andy, his bright copper hair smushed against his face. He looked at the man’s chest as Gwen reached her fingers toward his neck. “He’s alive,” he said.
She looked up at him, then down at Andy’s chest when Jack nodded down to it. She sighed in relief as it rose and fell. “What happened?” She looked around the room, her hands still around Andy as if to shield him.
He shook his head. He hadn’t heard anything since they’d stepped inside. Whoever had broken in might have already found what they had been looking for and left. He and Gwen had been gone for hours. Still, he wasn’t ready to lower his guard. He nodded toward the back of the building. Gwen nodded, and he stood, ready to check the area.
Something in the med bay tinked against the floor.
“Shit.”
The curse came from the wall beside the ramp, down below their line of sight. Jack turned his gun. “All right, buddy. Come out. Now.”
“Hold on, hold on, hold on. No point getting angry, is there?” The accent wasn’t Welsh. Jack saw a hand wave up above the edge of the floor, beneath the bars of the railing. “Hold on a second.”
“Now.”
The man cursed again. Jack heard something scrape, then the clacking of what sounded like a thousand marbles. Then the intruder stood. Jack was left blinking as he took in the man standing before him, hands up in the air. He looked around – dammit – around Ianto’s age, no older than twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Yet the similarities ended there, and at the pale complexion of his skin. His was skinny, nearly a beanpole, with clothes that hung off him like blankets and fingers as long as the Doctor’s. “Hi! Hello. Nice-” Myfanwy shrieked up above them, “-uh, place you got here. Did you know there’s a dinosaur in your underground lair?”
“What are you doing here?” Jack asked.
“No, sod that, what did you do to Andy?” Gwen asked, still clutching the unconscious man.
The man looked down at them. Jack raised his gun until the man looked back at him. “Whoa, don’t get mad at me! He’s the one who pulled a gun on me.”
“You’re trespassing on private property.” Jack shifted just enough to put Gwen behind him. “How did you get in here?”
“What, like it was locked?” Jack glared. The man rolled his eyes. “I suppose movie references are going to swim right past you. Look. There was a tourist place. I stepped inside, there was no one there, I saw a door, I opened it, I came down. Your friend – and you, by the way – pulled a gun on me immediately. I freaked and knocked him out.”
“And then hid from us,” Gwen said.
“Uh, yeah. Gun?” The man made a point to look at Jack’s. “No point getting mad at me for that, is there? And wouldn’t you prefer to call the cops than shoot me? Please?”
“No need for that.” Gwen made to stand, but Jack didn’t let her get up. Unlike her, he hadn’t dropped his guard. “Jack?”
“There’s no need, because he’s lying.” He lifted his chin. “The door wasn’t unlocked. It’s never unlocked. No to mention the vault door, which you left wide open. So why don’t you try telling us the truth?”
The man sighed. He lowered his hands to his hair, flicked the long strands back. He’d pulled some shaky ponytail that had managed to catch only half of the dirty blond hair on his scalp. He scratched the stubble on his chin and stuck a hand into the pocket of his too-large jeans. “Thanks, but I didn’t lie, you know. I said I opened the door. You assumed that meant it had been unlocked.” He shrugged. “But hey. Semantics, right?” He looked around. “This place.” He pointed all over. “It’s weird. New, but it has a really old feel. Like, a sewage feel or something. And what the hell is that thing?” He pointed to the rift monitor.
“But that’s impossible.” Finally, Gwen laid Andy back down and stood up. She still did not reach for her weapon. “No one can break in to here.”
“Once again, that’s not what I said.” The man grinned. Despite the stubble and giant clothes and – was that a backpack? – his teeth were bright white and perfectly straight, destroying the well-developed illusion of a man down on his luck. His eyes, too, carried something a little too knowing. The man’s fingers moved in his pocket.
“Show your hand!” Jack shouted.
The man grinned. He pulled his hand out. Within it sat a small, brown-ish stone.
“What–” Gwen cut herself off when a shriek rent the air around them. Jack’s heart flipped. Gwen’s eyes widened. “Tosh?”
“So sorry about busting in,” the man said, his grin widening, “but I never could resist the chance to add to my collection.”
“Collection?” Jack raised his hand, even though there was no light or wind. It was more as if… as if he sensed something.
Tosh. He sensed Tosh’s presence.
“Wreak havoc,” the man said. Jack felt Tosh’s presence pass by him. Despite the danger of the man in front of him, he turned to follow the invisible sensation. The computers at the hub flared to life. Something snapped along the cords trailing down from the computers. Alarms sounded in the hub. Myfanwy cried out and took to the sky.
He snapped his gaze back to the man. “What have you done?!”
The man just kept smiling. “I’d best be on my way. I don’t want to get locked in here with you.” He started walking sedately away, both hands sliding back into his pockets, as if he didn’t have a gun trained on him. “Oh, fair warning. Killing me won’t save that Vestige.”
Jack’s finger froze on the trigger. “What?”
Gwen ran to the terminals. They sparked as she neared. She covered her face with her arms with a yelp. “That Vestige. I got it from here, so I can only assume you recognize it. Name yourself,” he said, his voice altering as if speaking to someone else. The man tilted his head to the side and said, simply, “Sato Toshiko. Japanese, then.” The man focused back on Jack. “Do you want her soul to wander forever?”
Jack’s breath stilled in his chest.
The man chuckled. “Didn’t think so.” He raised one hand – his empty one – and gave a short wave. “Wonderful to meet you both. Maybe think about paint or something, yeah? Get some color in this dreary place.”
Gwen finally got to the terminal hub, but as she did, information scrolled like lightning across the screens. Even at that insane pace, Tosh would have been able to read it. “Jack – Jack, the lockdown has been initiated!”
“Turn it off!” He raced after the man. Every step the man took, the clacking accompanied him. Like marbles – or precious stones. “Stop!”
“Not likely!” the man called out. He didn’t run, but he did quicken his pace.
“Stop!” He ran up, catching up to the man just as he crossed past the vault door. “You said you… found her here.” The man raised a brow in acknowledgment. “That means she didn’t get you in.” Jack’s lips thinned. “Who did?”
The man grinned. “You’re quick.” He tilted his head. The vault door slowly slid closed. “It was a soul I found amid countless others. There were a lot there. Easy pickings.” The man shrugged. “Apparently his name was Ianto Jones.”
The vault door locked into place with a clang.