Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“God, I bloody hate the tube.” Sounded the voice of a disgruntled woman. Her hands clutched onto her mobile as she stared at the empty bars of signal, while her text sat in a grey box, with no luck of sending any time soon. Truthfully, she just wanted to let her husband know she was soon bound for the underground, to be whisked away through the dirty and uncomfortable systems of tunnels. Shrouded only by the light of the train itself as it was carried through the darkness of the intersecting tunnels.

Her eyes darted across the empty platform, ignoring the brief glimpse of a scampering rat along the tracks and the pile of beer cans that had clustered on one of the seats, instead falling upon the schedule. It flickered in it’s orange light, switching and flashing as different trains and times were displayed. Her train was eastbound for Cockfosters, a name that inevitably prompted any onlookers a slight smirk across their face, and was due for three minutes.

There was some relief that the platform was quiet and empty. Although she had expected it to be busier, she had no complaints that there were no loud teenagers stood in the corner, or drunken men singing and ogling. With nothing to do during her wait, she stood and listened to the distant echoes of the trains. The wind blasted through the tunnels and the crackling of the tracks. It calmed her slightly, putting her frustrations with the lack of phone signal aside for a brief moment.

Three minutes had passed, and shooting down the tracks was her train. Wind surged through the platform, almost carrying her phone along with it, before the train halted and the doors screeched open. A voice reminded her to mind the gap as she stepped across and onto the tube. She stood on the furthest carriageway, regretting it slightly as her eyes noticed a huddled man at the end of the carriage.

Courteously, as to respect the unspoken rules of minding your own business on the underground, she sat down and kept her gaze away from the man. There was a temptation to glance over and stare, she noticed he had rather dark skin and straggles of white hair. He wore a blue jumpsuit and moved his head strangely – though that was all she could see.

Instead, her eyes glanced up towards the adverts and the maps. Weathered posters for those strange Adipose pills scattered the top, graffitied with a small drawing of a white blob of fat. She grinned slightly, recalling the events that had thrown London into a crisis for about ten minutes.

The lights flicked as the train rumbled through the underground, temporarily throwing the train into darkness every few minutes. The rickety train threw about the few passengers it had, while the deafening sounds of the metal box tumbling along the tracks bellowed around them. Were it not for the obvious source, the screeching sounds could have been confused with roaring demons or unnatural creatures as it tumbled through the tunnel.

The train stopped at least three times until the woman turned her head to fully observe the crouched man. Despite the clearly uncomfortable position, the man appeared to have kept his feet firmly clasped to the floor. The violent wobbling of the train along its route didn’t deter the man from his crouch, and instead, he almost appeared unmoved.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the man, she watched as he turned his head for a brief moment. Even under the brief flicker of the blinding white lights, she spotted something unnatural about his face. From afar, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, though his beady eyes and his unnatural head shape with large teeth were enough to unnerve her.

Her eyes shot away from the man, naturally terrified by the leering drunk. A voice rang over the train, interrupting the automated system that listed the important information for the next stop – Green Park.

“Apologies,” The voice started, crackling slightly as the train began to slow down. “There’s a slight delay here. We’re just being held at a red light, but we should get going soon.” The crackling of the voice stopped just as the train came to a full halt, which prompted her heart to start it’s sudden panic.

Turning her head across towards the crouching man, she watched as he twitched and convulsed. He began to stand up, almost calmed by the darkness outside the windows and the lack of movement across the train. She watched carefully as the man turned his head, trying to figure out what appeared so strange about his appearance.

That was until he face her. His eyes locked onto hers and she could see the unholy and unnatural appearance of the man.

Calling him a man was a betrayal of an accurate description. This was no man, despite the clear humanoid clothes and body. It was a monster. An alien. A demon. Something – anything – that described the clear inhumane details of the man.

Hunching over, the creature stumbled. It’s mouth was fixed open, allowing a clear view of it’s protruding teeth that sat out of its mouth. The creature’s beady eyes were fixed on her, drool dripping from it’s mouth as though it were a hungry animal latching it’s eyes upon it’s prey.

The train began to drive as the creature reached halfway along the carriage, almost throwing it to the ground before it’s wrinkled and dirtied hands gripped onto the bars. Preventing itself from toppling onto the floor, the creature’s expressionless face fixed onto the woman. There was no reasoning with the creature, as it almost appeared to crave her. It either looked hungry, or sad, or angry – but it’s grumbling growls only proved it was incapable of communication.

The train continued it’s route through the tunnel, leaving the woman only hoping that it would reach the next stop soon. She planned to hastily escape, flee up the escalators and probably catch a taxi. A safer journey, even if it did cost an arm and a leg to get back home. She was sure her husband would have preferred to be short-changed for the month rather than be widowed.

Although, it almost seemed as though the creature could sense her panic. Her hope to flee. It now stood mere meters away as it approached her. It gnarled and grumbled, bearing its teeth like a hungry predator. It’s head twitched and turned, studying the woman, before she jumped up.

Tears swelled in her eyes as she called back to the man. “Stop it!” She cried, her heart pounding in her chest. “Just stop it! Whatever you are or whoever you are, just stop.” Her ears could now hear the train slowing down and the lights of the platform reached the corner of her eyes. She felt some relief, her heart relishing in the clear escape that was being opened up to her.

As the train came to a halt, the woman back away. Her feet dragging her towards the small doors at the end of the carriage. Her hands trembled, though her eyes fixed on the doors. The loud beeping sounded before they slid open suddenly, while the automated voice rang over the speaker to inform the passengers to mind the gap.

Now the woman jumped off the train, though the creature was fast. Faster than her. It’s leather shoes loudly clacked against the ground, sounding it’s quick approach towards her. She wasted no time in fleeing, her eyes darting back towards the ravenous creature. She had angered it – either by moving fast or shouting her pleading terrified words towards it.

Within seconds, without any intention, she had found herself in a scurrying chase. Her feet tapped against the ground while the hunched creature leapt along the platform. It’s arms flailing around in it’s speedy approach, it’s hurried footsteps reaching closer. She panted with each step which propelled her further along, while tears now flooded from her eyes.

The creature was mere seconds away. The unnatural growls grew louder in her ears, while it’s hot breath now almost felt like it brushed against her neck. She glided around a corner and almost threw herself up the stairs in a panic – though just as she did, the corner of her eyes watched as the creature briefly slammed into the wall. The unexpected turn had prompted the creature to miscalculate it’s route and while the woman relished in the brief victory, she felt dread pass over her.

The creature, unaffected by the collision, continued up the stairs. It’s arm reached out, scraping the sole of her shoe as she glided up the steps.

In another flail of it’s arms it seized her ankle. The grip of the creature was strong, and the sudden prevention to her escape up the steps dragged her down to the floor. Throwing her amrs to slightly cushion her fall was helpful in not cracking her head against the steps, but the creature’s firm grasp was inescapable. Her arms reached for the banister that ran along the stairwell, though she lost her clammy grips within seconds.

She cried out for help, kicking and screaming as the creature took her across the other platform. Her eyes only caught sight of the words westbound, before she was thrown across the train that was soon to depart. The creature now crouched over her body, it’s slobbering jaw almost instantly jolted down towards her neck, the points of it’s protruding teeth ripping into her neck.

The scene was horrific, and her bloodcurdling cries bellowed throughout the tunnels of the tube, though drained out by the crackling and roaring of it’s speedy shoot down the tracks. Her vision blurred and darkened as the agony worsened, feeling the blood ooze from her neck.

***

Although one of the quietest and emptiest, North Ealing Station was at the centre of a swarm of media frenzy. Police cars and trucks alongside ambulances littered the immediate exit of the station, while journalists stood at the very edge of the barrier, cameras primed forward on the station and others photographing the scene.

Sarah Jane Smith was amongst the journalists who looked on out of intrigue, though she wasn’t quite followed by a camera. Instead, she held out her wrist and discreetly scanned the area for any signs of alien life.

She stood isolated from the crowd, her brown eyes darting across the morning landscape and her short hair perched on her shoulders. An eyebrow raised as the watch on her wrist, which flipped up to reveal a small scanner, beeped in confirmation that alien life had been present. With a slight grin etched across her face, she smiled and wandered around the barriers curiously.

“in her late thirties was brutally murdered on the train sometime last night, and was found by a passenger at this station in North Ealing. Police say they do not currently have any suspects, nor confirmation of the woman’s identity, but CCTV from Green Park Station shows a man dragging her into the train last night at 10:23 pm. It is highly likely that this man was the vicious murderer-” Sarah Jane continued as she wandered past Louise Marlowe, a rather nosy reporter whose callous frown made her renowned for serious topics such as exposés and fascinating, horrifying crimes.

Approaching her small teal car, she took one final glance around the scene. The swarm of police and forensics and doctors and journalists and photographers was overwhelming, but most devastatingly of all, drowned out the terrible situation that had occurred.

Driving back home, Sarah Jane’s mind dwelled on the scene. She had seen the CCTV and photographs earlier that morning, but the image still resonated in her mind. Something stood out as strange about the huddled man, the murderer who crouched and scuttled along the platform. Something inhuman and unnatural, and knowing alien activity had been detected, she only grew more fascinated with what had caused it.

Hurrying along her driveway and up through the stairwell, Sarah Jane swung open the attic door and grinned as her eyes darted across towards the chimney shaft that ran through the building. Papers lined the walls, old newspaper clippings and reports of blue boxes and missing people, which all wafted with a giant gust of wind as Sarah Jane called out towards the wall.

“Mr Smith, I need you!” She stated, smiling slightly as the blast of wind and cheerful fanfare had always brought some comfort to her. Although, as the panels revealed themselves from the faux chimney shaft, Sarah Jane felt the harrowing guilt and sorrow for the woman who had been victim to the gruesome murder earlier that day.

She watched as Mr Smith’s screen flickered and flashed, with a morphing liquid transforming into a crystal occasionally, while flashing soothing colours of pink and green and blue. The fanfare quietened once Mr Smith protruded out from the wall, almost as though it was staring down towards Sarah Jane with utter patience.

“I assume, by the data collected by your scanner, that you want me to scan for alien activity last night?” Mr Smith noted, his formal and monotone voice silencing as he waited for Sarah Jane to comment.

“Specifically, Green Park station!” She added, before racing back across the attic towards her personal computer. “There was something familiar about that man, but the question is… what?” Sarah Jane spoke to herself, clicking the mouse of her computer quickly as she raced to search through her emails.

Her eyes glanced back to Mr Smith for a moment, watching as his screen indicated towards his compliance. Displayed across the screen was a vast map of London, with a pulsating circle resonating from a blue dot placed over Green Park Station.

As Sarah Jane continued through her emails, she eventually found a link, before smiling at having found exactly what she was searching for.

“My data indicates the presence of an unknown alien lifeform was present in Green Park Station last night – the creature appears to carry residual artron energy, suggesting a displacement in time has brought it here.” Mr Smith explained, before Sarah Jane darted across the attic, creaking the floorboards with the pounding of her leather boots against the wooden ground.

“Now access the Torchwood database – specifically Torchwood Three.” Sarah Jane watched as the screen flashed towards the logo of the Torchwood institute, an unruly lot whose guns-blazing attitude had put her off contact for a considerably long time. The giant T surrounded by a hexagon faded, before a small textbox appeared in its place. “Password: Space Pig.” Sarah Jane’s command had brought about a sea of files to flash upon the screen, though the enlarged view helped her for a moment. “Now open the file on Weevils.” She instructed, before the screen displayed a fact file on an unnerving creature called the Weevils.

Mr Smith detailed the descriptions and files noted on the Weevils, while Sarah Jane stood intrigued. These creatures of low intelligence and mild telepathy, had been falling through the Cardiff rift for decades, possibly centuries. It was daunting to learn these ravenous and aggressive creatures had been roaming the streets of Cardiff for so long.

The supercomputer embedded into the wall listed the few noted attribute known about the hideous and foul predators. The mild telepathy, sensitivity to time, tendency to form pacts and collective groups. Their vicious and brutal ways of attack, and cowering nature in darker places – all of which perfectly aligned with the situation that has unfolded in the gruesome murder.

“Mr Smith, do you know anything about these Weevils?” She asked curiously, watching as various photographs of Weevils flashed upon the screen. Before the Xylok could divulge the information it had on the mysterious creatures, the tall towering house echoed with a sudden knocking of the door.

Sarah Jane abruptly told Mr Smith to retract back into the wall, before she darted back downstairs in a hurried pace. Her footsteps echoed throughout the stairwell, before finally arriving at the bottom. The entrance of her house was large and empty, patterned beautifully with a set of tiles set across the floor. Sunlight glistened through the window, while a silhouette stood at the door.

Cautiously opening the door, Sarah Jane promptly found herself staring up towards a man she immediately recognised. He had spiked-up dark brown hair, a dashingly handsome smile that flirted with you without even trying, a long grey coat and a blue shirt beneath.

“Captain,” Despite the twinge of a smile etched across Sarah Jane’s face, her eyes stared up sternly. Her hand flicked from her forward as a half salute, while she watched as Jack Harkness stood before her.

“Miss Smith.” The man nodded with a grin, a smile etched across his face as he greeted the woman. It was somewhat of a privilege to stand at the house of Sarah Jane Smith, to stand before the woman herself who had attempted to expose her dealings with UNIT in a published novel. Who had fought Slitheen and Gorgans and Sontarans alone with the assistance of a few teenagers.

Sarah Jane glanced out of her driveway for a moment, her eyes shooting across to her neighbours, hoping that Gita Chandra hadn’t caught a glimpse of the dashing American man in the long draping coat stood at her door. Sitting along the driveway was a large black SUV, directly contrasting with her small teal car that was grossly outsized.

She briskly welcomed him in, before swivelling around as she wandered into the large entrance of the house. “I expect this isn’t a social call.” She raised her eyebrow as Captain Jack shut the door behind him, letting out a slight chuckle as his eyes fell upon her.

“Trust me, I wish it was.” Jack grinned as he glanced around for a moment, before letting out a slight sigh. “I expect you’ve heard about the attack at Green Park?”

“I think it’s best we take this upstairs.” Sarah Jane remarked, before noticing a flirtatious glimmer light up across Jack’s face. “I work in my attic.” She promptly shot down any innuendos the man was planning, before turning back around and wandering up the stairs. Jack was unfettered by her stern assertation, enjoying the twinging playful smile that attempted to break across Sarah Jane’s face.

“So, everything you’ve done in the past few years – you’ve done it all here?” Jack wondered, rather amazed as his eyes observed the photographs that lined the walls of the ascending stairwells. Clippings from her most famous articles from across the years, while other photographs depicted her with people Jack recognised – UNIT personnel from it’s earliest years in the 70s or 80s.

“Not everyone who saves the world needs funding from the UN – or, in your case, the monarchy.” Sarah Jane smirked as she turned her head back towards the man.

“It’s just all sort of- domestic.” He commented, reaching the first floor of the house.

“I’d be offended, but I’m not surprised an immortal man would find domesticity to be strange.” As her heard jerked back to look at the man, her smile was almost informed by something amusing and secretive. They reached the second floor of the house, before Jack probed what had caused that particular smile. “Ever since the Dalek invasion, I’ve been in contact with you lot. In case you ever need a hand.” Shrugging her shoulders, Sarah Jane waited for the onslaught of questions that she expected.

“What do you mean, ‘been in contact’?” Jack asked curiously, his interest peaked as Sarah Jane paused at the top of the stairwell. Stood beneath the arched roof, she glanced down the steps with an entertained smile.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t told you – that Ianto is ever so funny. You two make quite the item.” Sarah Jane scoffed as Jack’s face flushed into a frozen pale. “Come on,” she gestured for his prompt follow, before pulling open the door to her attic.

Beside the mess that scattered the upstairs of the house, there wasn’t much to interest him on his first impression. Patchy paintwork on a pillar and floating dust danced through the air. The floorboards creaked with Sarah Jane’s movement, while a cluttered desk sat beside the red-painted walls. Bookshelves sat around the room, while a telescope glared through a window in the ceiling. Two sofa’s sat on both levels of the attic, while random pieces of papers and photographs lined the walls.

Although, at a second glance around the room, Jack’s eyes noticed the alien artefacts that sat in the place of random junk. The papers on the walls were about the TARDIS and Daleks and other alien sightings. Scrap metal and strange items were scattered across the various surfaces of the room. Though it was the sudden gust of wind and sounding of fanfare that followed Sarah Jane’s call out to Mr Smith that piqued his fascination. Jack watched as a supercomputer emerged from within the walls.

“This is Mr Smith?” Jack wondered with a gleaming smile. “The one you had help us with towing Earth home?”

Sarah Jane nodded her head proudly. “Mr Smith is a Xylok who created a computer interface – he helps us in dealing with aliens.” Her statement prompted a nervous glow across Jack’s face, who stared at her aware of the Xylok race.

“A few years ago, there was an incident with the Slitheen and the moon being dragged down with psychokinetic energy – we tried to prevent it, but our systems were locked out by a Xylok.”

“Oh!” Sarah Jane jumped at the very thought of the event that elapsed a few years prior. “No, no! That’s all sorted – Mr Smith is good now.” She promptly defended nervously, flickering her eyes between the computer and Jack. “That’s all a rather long story – but trust me, Mr Smith is on our side.”

Jack paused for a moment, his raised eyebrow highlighting his scepticism as he glanced up towards the supercomputer. He watched as the screen morphed and flashed, waiting for instructions. A gentle hum sounded from the computer as it patiently stared back at Jack.

“How could I tempt you to come back to Cardiff with me and join Torchwood?” There was a joking tone to Jack’s words, though there was a seriousness. A preparedness to invite the famed Sarah Jane into his merry band of alien fighters, along with the help of her supercomputer and her rather intelligent son.

Sarah Jane chuckled, flattered by his joke. “As much as I’d love to be paid for what we do, there’s nothing in the world that would even turn my head for the idea.”

“That’s a shame,” Jack grinned with a slight scoff at her words. “What about the computer? How much is he wor-”

“If I might interrupt,” The sudden voice of Mr Smith startled Jack, who jumped back in a state of paralysed shock. “Matching CCTV from last night's footage and information compiled from the Torchwood archives, I can confirm that it was in fact a Weevil.”

“Did Ianto give you access to the Torchwood archives?” Sarah Jane nodded, watching a streak of jealousy seize Jack’s face as he turned back towards him. “Well, I suppose it’s good that we know what we’re dealing with here. Usually, we head into these things sort of unsure what to expect – things usually get a little hairy. You know, we once had to fight a sex gas creature that came out of a meteorite? You ever fought a sex gas creature?”

Sarah Jane’s eyes turned almost in horror and confusion, watching a glimmer of a mischievous smile spark across his face. “No – but I did once fight a clown that fed on fear, and he was just came from a meteorite.” She remarked, rather casually. Jack raised an eyebrow towards her, finding himself intrigued by the brief snippet of the story.

“Anyway,” Jack veered away from the discussion with a hefty grin still etched across his face. “We need to get that Weevil out of London. Cardiff is quiet enough usually do deal with these things, but if that thing goes rampaging through this place, it’s going to kick off a nationwide panic. Londoners – you’re so fragile. One unexpected road closure and your city falls down.”

“Yes, well, finding this Weevil won’t be that easy. The Picadilly line is shut down and getting around the underground is difficult enough. We need to pinpoint it’s location and track it down, but then also comes the issue of weapons.”

“Already sorted on that front!” Jack smirked as he swished his coat jacket out of the way, the metallic scraping of his gun against his holster sounded loudly before he grinned at Sarah Jane.

“No way!” Sarah Jan’s retorting voice was immediate and authoritative, silencing the room automatically and even bringing Mr Smith to a standstill. “You want to help find this Weevil, fair enough. But if you’re working with me, in my city, then you follow my rules. No guns and no violence. We reason with it until we have no other choice, you understand?”

At first, Jack was reluctant. He was stuck in the ways of Torchwood, treating alien creatures as immediate threats and neutralising the danger they posed before they showed any signs of doing so. “What happened to the Sarah Jane who was prepared to blow up an entire Dalek fleet with a Warp Star?” Jack wondered, rather excited by this flair of stern authority.

“Daleks are different.” Sarah Jane stated without hesitation. “I was there when they were created, pleaded for the Doctor to destroy them. And I stand by that, because when it comes to the Daleks, there’s no point reasoning or negotiating. This Weevil is alone and scared. It’s lost and it's vicious, but that’s the same with animals on our own planet. We help it escape and under no circumstance, do we provoke it.” Raising her voice, Sarah Jane demanded the authority of the room once again, before racing up along the steps. She turned back around to Jack, grasping onto her leather coat and gestured to see if he complied.

Jack simply saluted at the woman, purely loving the authority she seized. Although he was definitely older than her, with his immortality spanning across centuries (and a few hundred years buried alive), there was no doubt she seized the maturity of handling situations like this. Perhaps it was the fact that her dealings with aliens involved children, teenagers who she had to guide and teach about kindness and compassion before violence and more extreme measures had to be taken.

Chapter Text

Sarah Jane glanced up towards Jack, shining a torch at him as he climbed down, slightly admiring the view discreetly. As Jack dropped to the floor, both boots slamming against the concrete ground, he smirked at Sarah Jane.

They’d snuck into the underground train tunnels through service ducts, intended only to be used during a fire emergency – though the Sonic Lipstick played a fair role in gaining access to such areas. Now, as the stood at the bottom of a ladder, they had two directions to head.

“You know, sneaking into tight tunnels with Sarah Jane Smith has been on my bucket list for quite some time.” He remarked, a flirtatious grin painting his face, all whilst Sarah Jane appeared almost immune to his charm.

“I’d rather assumed immortality made bucket lists pointless.” Sarah Jane mused, teasing Jack.

“Not too long ago, I spent centuries buried underground. Every suffocating death I realised there were still things I wanted to do.”

Sarah Jane paused and glanced towards Jack, smiling gently. She knew the words on the edge of her tongue were prying, but she couldn’t quite help it. “And whereabouts is Ianto on that list?”

Jack’s face filled with a confidence, a beaming smile with spoke a thousand words alone, let alone the following “Oh, trust me, I’ve done that.” Though almost immediately, as his eyes met Sarah Jane’s, his sexually-driven sense of humour dried up. A seriousness, almost sternness, toned her eyes. Disapprovingly, she waited for him to take the hint – which he had within seconds. “Love isn’t easy for me.”

“It’s not easy for anybody.” Sarah Jane snapped, turning her head down to her watch. She flicked open the clock’s face, revealing a scanner beneath it. Jack, uncertain how to reply to her staunch rebuttal, stood awkwardly behind her, as she waved her arm around to find a trace. Nodding her head, she set off in one direction, following a pulsing beat which emanated from the watch.

“I suppose it’s not easier after you leave the Doctor, eh?” Jack commented, his footsteps following Sarah Jane. Their boots both slapped against the tunnel floor, as they followed an ambiguous trail of alien activity.

“I once met a woman who said that loving the Doctor was like loving the stars.” Sarah Jane reminisced, her face gleaming in the memory of the woman. “But, then again, people have found love after the Doctor. When I met the Doctor, he’d just said goodbye to a Jo Grant, who married before our travels. And there’s a couple in India, Ben and Polly, or Ian and Barabara Chesterton at Cambridge. Of course, Martha has Mickey – and you have Ianto.”

“What about you?” Jack moved away from the topic, turning his gaze towards her with intrigue. “Luke’s dad?”

“Luke doesn’t have a dad. He was created by the Bane.”

Jack fell silent for a moment, his eyes peering upwards as he was caught in a brief moment of remembrance. He searched his memories for where he recognised the name Bane, before nodding his head. “We’ve had our run-in with a few Bane. Although after the Bubble Shock! incident – nice job by the way – they went quiet.”

“Their factory was home to the Bane Mother, and they were constructing the perfect human – attempting to finalise their formula. ‘The Archetype’ they called him, but I called him Luke.”

“He was impressive last time – fantastic mind.” Sarah Jane nodded her head proudly, her mind dwelling on the image of her son. She thought back on Luke with a great fondness, knowing that everything he had become was an indicator for his determination. His perseverance and adaptability, breaking past the issues of a human life he couldn’t quite understand.

Eventually, after some exchanges about aliens they had encountered, Sarah Jane froze. They halted as they reached the track. Were their torches not darting around the curved walls, and Srah Jane’s scanning watch whining as it caught whiff of something extra-terrestrial, they would have found themselves in an unsettling darkness. Stillness and silence would surround them, as the tracks were unused by any tumbling carriageway.

Jack peered his head along the track, taking a particular listen out for anything – though he found the world to be silent. Not a stir filled the tunnels, even the signalling lights found themselves blank and unlit.

“What’s your watch saying now?”

“North… Weevil traces are stronger that way.” She stared, swivelling her head back around to the Torchwood agent. He stared down at the ground, which glistened almost by the pure white glare which fixed on stains of harsh red. They exchanged an unnerved look, especially as Jack moved the torchlight upwards to capture a trail of blood leading North.

Following the trail, their ears began to catch onto the gory squelching of flesh which rang through the tunnels. Jack, against Sarah Jane’s wishes, kept his hand close to his holster, waiting in preparation. Meanwhile, Sarah Jane clasped onto a vial of liquid contained in a perfume bottle – to her knowledge, it was a repellent against Weevils which generally worked.

Discomfort and horror shot through Sarah Jane’s mind, as she caught sight of a Weevil eventually. It’s appearance alone was grotesque enough to drive fear into any heart, with it’s brown skin and straggles of hair. It’s beady eyes and strange jaw, with horrible teeth breaking out. It wore a grey jumpsuit, dressed like an ordinary human with boots and faded logo.

However, what was more horrifying, was it’s gnawing away at a chunk of meat. It was human for certain, as ragged clothes clung to some of the flesh, whilst the crimson red gushes of red patterned the rest of the body part.

Putting aside her disgust, and nervous as the Weevil’s blank gaze fixed on her, Sarah Jane cautiously froze. Like prey caught in the eyes of a predator, waiting out the moment. The primal instinct of chasing couldn’t kick if she remained motionless.

“Hello…” She spoke quietly and gently. Treating the Weevil like a pet or a small child, all whilst keeping the anti-Weevil Spray tightly clasped in her hands. “You’re far from your home, aren’t you?” Although Jack felt every impulse to correct Sarah Jane on the fact that Weevils didn’t have a known home – that they could only theorise what they were – he decided against it. Watching carefully, his own hand clasped onto his gun in steady caution. “We can help – help you return home.”

The creature stared at Jack and Sarah Jane both. It’s expressionless face almost breaking with a sense of confusion. A longing fixed in its eyes, before it put down the gnawed limb and clambered to it’s feet. It turned around in the opposite direction and began to cautiously lead along the tunnel.

Without uttering a sound, not wanting to provoke the Weevil as it filled with a sense of calmness, the pair followed it. Remaining a few feet behind, with their hands in quick reach of their spray and gun, they felt a sense of dread pass over them. Neither knew where they were headed, nor what the Weevil was thinking.

Eventually, the trio appeared in the end of an underground platform. It was eerily lit, with dim lights casting over the empty circular tunnel. Adverts paved across the walls and tube maps were barely visible under the dim lights, whilst the orange glow of the announcement board was barely to be seen either, as no trains were scheduled to pass through.

The Weevil turned towards a door, which was plastered with ‘Keep Out’ signs and warnings of high voltage. It thrusted it’s horrible and dry hands towards the door handles, before throwing it open. The Weevil revealed another dimly lit area, though this room was primarily filled with hefty generators. The walls were old and dirty, whilst the metal of the pipes and electrical components had rusted.

Accepting the Weevil’s gestures, the pair wandered inside and watched as the doors shut behind them. Automatically, as the doors shut, a blue glow glistened around the room. The creature hunched and erratic in it’s movement, wandered towards a small junction box. Stuck to it’s front was a yellow hazard sign, which prompted Sarah Jane and Jack to leap forward urgently.

Snarling at them, the Weevil warned them away. It ripped open the junction box and revealed a small lever inside. It almost seemed to be a façade, an intentionally hidden piece to activate something, and as they waited cautiously, they felt a huge surge of electricity burst through the room. The heavy clack of the lever, as it clicked into an activation setting, was followed by a charged power from the generators. Sparks of electricity shot from the generators, hitting all three of them at once.

Were anybody else to bare witness to this, they would have merely seen an overcharged set of generators disintegrate three trespassers. The trio, including the Weevil had vanished from their spot. Dematerialised within seconds, thin air grasping them and taking them away. Though, fortunately for the secretive pair of alien investigators, nobody was around to see it. The door was locked and the platform shut off – though that did raise some concern for them both.

*

As the surge of power faded, Jack and Sarah Jane instantly felt the need to vomit. An uncomfortable side affect to rudimentary teleportation – or any matter transmission, in fact. Both Jack and Sarah Jane knew how nauseating the TARDIS could be at times, but to move from one location to the next with it’s capsule was a guarantee of sickness.

“Transmat beam.” Jack commented, resting his hand against his throat as he tried to keep down the projectile in his throat. Sarah Jane nodded her head, glancing towards him. “You really don’t get used to this stuff, eh?”

Sarah Jane shook her head, recalling the few times she’d experienced teleportation like that, and their familiar nauseating effects. Before long, Sarah Jane turned her head around them, finding a room identical to the one previously – only differing by the hazard sign upon the junction box being blue.

The Weevil bowed it’s head in respect, before leading Sarah Jane and Jack through the door behind them. They watched cautiously, struggling to trust a Weevil, especially as it appeared to only communicate in gestures and throws of it’s head.

Slowly, the creature pulled open the door and revealed a vast bunker. The ceiling was tall above them, whilst the concrete walls were filled with balconies and bridges, curtains and tents, all creating a janky marketplace appearance. It was assumably a refugee sight for Weevils, as the pair were quick to notice the Weevils huddled in ragged sleeping bags upon dirty mattresses, or cowering over a plate of meat.

Their eyes examined the room, noticing it’s business and noisiness. There was barely a word spoken, but instead groans and murmers, as the Weevils communicated. Though the ones that caught onto them, beady eyes staring innocently and confused, they let out louder groans. No language was shared between the humans and Weevils here, but the fear was indistinguishable. For some unfathomable reason, the Weevil’s feared the pair, their eyes latching onto them carefully.

“Have you ever seen something like this?” Sarah Jane wondered, whispering to Jack as they followed through.

“Not like this… I’ve seen Weevils have tendency to form small communities, but this is on a different scale.”

“Mr Smith said the same thing. He also said they’re time sensitive, could that be why they’re reacting like this?”

“The Doctor did say he could sense my immortality. But they’re reacting to both of us… I did my own research on you, Sarah Jane. Slitheen, a Gorgon, the Bane. You’ve faced a lot of aliens – a lot of slippery aliens and gooey fates, but you attracted the attention of the Trickster. He’s probably put some mark on you, which they can sense.”

“A mark?” Sarah Jane wondered, never having considered it. “I do wish aliens weren’t so hell bent on revenge all the time.” She grumbled to herself, sparking a smirk across Jack’s face – finding her disgruntlement amusing.

“Back in Cardiff, we get so many different kinds of aliens passing through, they never stop for revenge.”

“That’s the benefit of just dealing with a rift in time and space, rather than living in the centre of alien invasions.” Sarah Jane remarked, smiling at Jack as she kept her voice quiet. “You know, sometimes I wonder if all these aliens only come about because the Doctor has visited us so often. I wonder if he’s created a beacon out to the universe.”

“Well, without the Doctor, the rift wouldn’t be as powerful as we know it.”

They hastily followed the Weevil, as it guided them up a set of stairs, along a higher level balcony, through towards another door. This sat at the furthest end of the underground base, and seemed older. Glancing down, over the metal railing, Sarah Jane caught sight of likely a hundred Weevils. Men, women and children, all minding their own business. It seemed miserable, a haunting and dreadful sight as they all bunched together and whined in pain.

The Weevil propped open the door and invited them in, finding ragged carpets and beads and strange decorations littering the room. Sat in the centre was a throne, holding a Weevil who was well dressed in a black suit. Tied to his neck was a collar, with a speaker attached to it, and a gleaming red light. It groaned for a moment, spotting the pair, before inviting them forward.

“Greetings, Travellers.” The Weevil snarled and groaned for a moment, before the noises escaping it’s mouth were drained out by the tuning sound of the collar. A voice spoke with mysticism and sophistication, as the Weevil sat comfortably in the throne.

“Nice suit – I’m Captain Jack Harkness.” Jack stated, with a flicker of a smile, which made Sarah Jane question the man’s intentions.

“We know who you are, Mr Harkness. As we do you, Miss Smith. We see your places in time. The abominations you are. One man who defies death, and one woman who is watched by the defiler of time.” The Weevil leant forward, it snarled at them both, before the delayed voice called over it. “I have no doubt you intend on uncovering what caused the attack, and truthfully, I’m relieved it was you who found Farsta out there. Were it UNIT, we may have bloodshed on our hands.”

“A woman died last night, there’s already been bloodshed.” Sarah Jane remarked profoundly, leaping forward with a streak of frustration.

“Do not blame us, Miss Smith. We are peaceful.”

“We saw that one out there – Farsta? Gnawing away at leg of a human. This community isn’t safe for Earth.” Jack replied, now taking an authoritative tone himself.

“Farsta was lured by meat, but she did not kill.” The Weevil’s voice took no particular tone, though it’s words were clearly defensive. Sarah Jane and Jack exchanged a glance, both feeling some remorse for their hasty jump towards an assumption. They fell silent for a moment, not wanting to utter another word before the throned Weevil explained further. “Another was tempted to leave the nest last night.”

“Tempted? By what?” Sarah Jane promptly wondered.

“We call it the Harrowing Darkness.”

Jack rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic “ohh,”, smirking at Sarah Jane as he did so. “Why does everything have to have some mystical name? Just call it what it is, mania! A Weevil went rabid.”

“That is not our name!” Now the tone of the creature filled with rage, as it slammed it’s fist down against the arm rest of the throne. “We remember little of home, but we found ourselves fleeing the City of the Rift. We are evolving, Mr Harkness. We found the teleporter. It was waiting for us. Gave us home here. In the Nowhere.”

“What does that mean?”

“Humans.” The Weevil snarled with a vicious mockery. “You consider us primitives, yet still lack any capability to sense the greater picture.”

“Trust me, we’ve both seen more than the average human. But you throwing about vague terms to make this all seem more ambiguous and creepy – doesn’t help.”

Sarah Jane shook her head, launching forward as to interject. “You’re saying someone left this place here for you?” She asked, prompting an expression which look like confirmation in some respect. Assurance, perhaps, that she was along the right track – that her calmer attitude bested Jack’s hostility.

Pushing itself to it’s feet, the Weevil wandered across the room; to where a collection of strange ornaments and carved wooden pieces, signalling some form of culture the Weevils had, or had developed. Shuffling and shifting through an assortment of stray objects, the Weevil retrieved a small box. Ancient wood lined the box, whilst old and unfamiliar symbols was carved into the aged bark. Jack and Sarah Jane exchanged a glance, curious and cautious, mixed with fascination as to what they were being shown.

With a click of the lock, the box opened to reveal a blue crystal which shimmer with a turquoise glow. To Jack and Sarah Jane, the crystal was only significance in its glow. Its beauty entrapment them. But for the Weevil, it caused a small disturbance in its mind. A snarl, pained groaning, sounded from the creature, which couldn’t be translated by the collar around its neck.

“We do not know what she is.” Spoke the voice from the collar. “But she summoned us. Called out to us. Gifted us this place. She gave us our sanctuary. Our refuge.” Stated the Weevil, staring down at the crystal with it’s beady eyes with a sense of love and gratitude in it’s eyes.

Sarah Jane raised her arm and pulled down her sleeve, promptly scanning the crystal with intrigued. Jack carefully, having sought the Weevils permission first, clasped his hand onto the crystal. It was kept in a metal wire frame with a silky rope falling into Jack's hand. It was obscurity shaped, with barely any symmetrical pattern.

Jack raised it to his ears hearing a gentle harmony from inside it. “It’s singing.” He remarked, his face lighting up with complete awe. The language in which the harmony was signing was unknown to Jack, but it was calming and beautiful. It captured him in fascination, wonder seizing him.

“It’s alive.” Sarah Jane commented. “Genetically engineered.” She explained, her eyes shooting up from the scanner. Jack and Sarah Jane glanced to one another, now becoming cautious in their words.

“If it’s genetically engineered, and lured you here... somebody else is behind this. Something or somebody wants you here.”

“This Harrowing Darkness,” Jack spoke the words with disdain, “What is it? When did it start?”

“We can only explain it as a parasite. Infecting us. Luring us. Reverting us.”

“So, something brought you here, and now something wants to use you.”

“I’ve seen enough to know coincidences don’t happen often. Whatever brought you here, did so for a reason.” Sarah Jane spoke softly, her eyes glanced back nervously towards the Weevil, not wanting to impose on it’s beliefs. “We want to help you – that’s what we do. We stop alien threats, but also help aliens who don’t mean harm.”

“Torchwood does not.” The Weevil stated, snarling at Jack with outrage. Jack felt flush, put on the spot as he briefly faced the consequences of Torchwood’s efforts. “They trap us. Keep us like prisoners.”

“Torchwood has no authority here,” Assured Sarah Jane, resting her hand on the Weevil’s shoulder. Smiling gently, she threw a glare towards Jack.

Chapter Text

The journey home was relatively uneasy for Sarah Jane and Captain Jack. Since both wanted to approach this investigation differently, they looked down upon the others. Sarah Jane expected that Jack wanted an all-guns-blazing approach, spraying and shooting down Weevils until they reached the person in charge – whilst Jack anticipated Sarah Jane wanted to follow a journalistic route. Track down leads, and piece together a puzzle.

He thought about his team, though now small, and how they could deal with things like this particularly easy. Once upon a time, he had Owen and Tosh alongside Gwen and Ianto too, but the latter two on their own made a formidable force against the threat that the rift posed.

“We have to be careful with this Jack.” Sarah Jane stated, turning to him as they stopped at a traffic light. Ealing’s high street was busy, packed with kids emerging from their schools, all excited to head home – or hang around the shopping centres and parks to procrastinate any sense of schoolwork at home. Jack stared out at the bustling street, before turning back to Sarah Jane. “We need humility, compassion.”

“I’m capable of that.” Jack retorted with a grin, but Sarah Jane saw right through the façade of a smile. The darkness, remorse. Regret.

“What do you do with the Weevil’s you catch?” Sarah Jane wondered, peering back around towards the man with disdain and distrust. He sighed, frowned and paused, knowing that he didn’t want to satisfy Sarah Jane’s disappointment with the truth. Her frowning eyes darted back towards the road, as a glimmer of amber from the traffic light dragged her attention back to the road.

“We study them. I’d say it’s 75% of the job, making sure Weevil’s don’t run amok and massacre Cardiff.” Jack let out a slight chuckle, finding himself amused by his own suggestion. Although, despite Jack’s amusement, he could visibly see Sarah Jane’s disappointment as she shook her head. Severe disapproval toned her eyes, which barely glanced towards him as she navigated the route home. “London is different – your job, here, is different.”

“They’re sentient creatures, Jack. Capable of expression and thought. You don’t even know what they’re called, but you keep them locked away on an alien planet, all while they’re connected. They feel each other’s pain!” Sarah Jane shouted, growing more frustrated with Torchwood’s practices.

“I’m sorry!” Jack yelled, “What do you suggest we do, huh?”

“Find a way to make their lives easier. If we can’t find where they’re from, we can relocate them.”

“Because that’s worked brilliantly here. With this ‘Harrowing Darkness’ pulling them out of their quant refuge from the underground.” Sarah Jane pushed her foot down on the break as she pulled into her driveway. Jack, clasped back by his seatbelt, felt his whole body jolt forward for a moment, before a hurried shocked glance towards the woman revealed the brewing anger written across her face.

“Silurian’s and Sea Devils hide away from us because of what we do to aliens on this planet. UNIT and Torchwood squash the slightest extra-terrestrial appearance on this planet, and aliens hide. They retreat into the shadows.” With a deep breath and a finalising of her parking, Sarah Jane turned to face Jack. Her hand clasped onto the handle of the door, waiting to say her piece before scurrying across her driveway and indoors. “We could help these Weevils without hurting anybody else.”

***

Sauntering into the attic, Sarah Jane had called out to Mr Smith. A gust of wind and a cheerful and dramatic fanfare accompanied his emergence from the brick wall, the neon controls and screen flickered on. Jack followed behind, not wanting to say another word and upset Sarah Jane again.

“The data collected from the Weevil’s camp, is there anyway to track down the origin of what’s luring them there, or what they’re calling the ‘Harrowing Darkness’?” She wondered, staring up towards the shifting screen.

Mr Smith’s controls hummed for a moment, whilst a series of beeps and sounds indicated a busy moment of contemplation. The screen flickered with a new bar of text and a graph featuring a graph of some kind. Jack watched intrigued, as Sarah Jane conversed with the Xylok.

“I regret, conducting that kind of tracking may take some considerable time. My understanding of the Weevil’s is limited, and therefore understanding their biology and what factors influence that, may not be a simple task.”

“Just try, it’s our only lead at the moment.” Sarah Jane complained frustratedly, burying her head in a file of classified Torchwood documents. Jack stared over suspiciously, before catching sight of the hexagon-surrounded T. He frowned for a moment, though he considered he didn’t quite have the authority to judge or criticise her at that moment. “You really don’t know much about the Weevil’s, do you?” She commented, glancing up towards Jack. Although he couldn’t quite tell if her comment and expression were toned with a disappointment or anger, he equally didn’t want to chance to provoke another reason for Sarah Jane to grow frustrated with him.

“It’s fairly difficult to study an alien race that appears out of nowhere. But we’ve found out enough to interact with them.”

“Let’s not start that again.” Sarah Jane threw him a furious glance, wanting to condemn Torchwood’s dealing with the Weevils, before deciding against it. “We need to find the Weevil from last night.” Sarah Jane stated, leaping towards Mr Smith. “Can you do that? Track down the Weevil?”

“Of course.” Mr Smith spoke almost with a tone of offence toning his voice. Sarah Jane watched as a small map of Ealing flashed across the screen, before pulsating green lines submerged the image into a strange fluctuation of lights. Dots flashed across Mr Smith’s screen, whilst an assortment of graphs and gibberish text flooded the screen.

Mr Smith had been a useful computer for Sarah Jane, but she was just as clueless as anybody as she stared at Mr Smith’s busy workings. She generally trusted that the stuff he threw on screen would lead to a helpful result, as was the case once the Xylok revealed the whereabouts of the Weevil. Having used an assortment of CCTV and biological tracing, he gave a potential location with a 1.3% chance of inaccuracy.

With that in mind, Sarah Jane whizzed out of the attic and plummeted down the stairs. Grasped in her hand was her leather coat, having slapped down the Torchwood file on a desk as she hurried out the room. Jack’s coat billowed behind him as he followed her down the stairs, taking brief glances at the photographs hanging across the walls with Sarah Jane, Luke, Clyde, Maria. Some had old newspaper clippings, and others of old UNIT chaps he recognised.

***

Jack insisted the use his SUV, with the various resources inside more likely to assist them in their investigation. Arriving in a hefty screeching halt, the pair leapt out of the black doors of the SUV and launched their way across into the building. As their eyes glared upwards, they bore witness to a dismal sight, an abandoned building that had been fodder for all manner of people.

Sarah Jane led them, her watch indicating where to go, and her sonic lipstick prying open the locked door, so as to not create a disturbance with any loud crashing of the locks. Jack watched with a twinge of a smile highlighting his face, choosing not to comment something akin to “How come you get the fancy toys from the Doctor?” as they sneakily manoeuvred through the derelict building.

The interior was as much as you would expect from an abandoned warehouse – corridors and stairwells coated in graffiti accompanied by a manner of drug packets and suspicious litter lining the floor. All whilst pillars struggled to continue holding up the upper floors in the large empty rooms, which felt like spanned as far the eyes could see. Brick walls and empty broken-glass windows decorated by tattered cloth and plastic wrapping billowed in the breeze.

Sarah Jane cautiously led them to the other side of the building, through a small set of doors and into a corridor. The location designated by Mr Smith sat beyond the door in front of them, a pulsating alert fixed on the screen of Sarah Jane’s watch, and she nodded towards Jack.

In her eyes was an agreement. Force was permitted if it was necessary – though she’d have truthfully preferred he took up the Weevil spray as opposed to the gun. He locked the gun over his wrist as he lowered it carefully.

Sarah Jane flicked off the lid of her sonic and held it out, the red glare aimed at the lock. Nothing happened, which to Sarah Jane confirmed the door wasn’t locked and thus she headed inside. Pushing open the door, as though to tear of a plaster and confront any fear lingering in her heart, jumped inside.

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know what she had expected – what the ‘Harrowing Darkness’ would lead the Weevil’s to do after violence. Perhaps she anticipated the Weevil to be hunched over some rats and foxes and other London wildlife with other inflicted Weevils – that seemed the most likely. But what she found, however, was nothing quite like that.

An array of sophisticated medical kit littered the room, clearly left in a hurry. Jack and Sarah Jane had seen enough of hospitals (both on Earth and in Space) to not find the equipment as interesting at first. Most of the tech appeared to be standard scanners or hefty metallic cubes which fulfilled some kind of medical purpose.

Instead, their eyes were drawn to a hospital-like bed, with the corpse of a bloodied Weevil traipsed across it. It’s upper torso was lifted slighted by the elevated portion of the bed. Beside it was a small rusting trolley, which small fragments glimmering with silver beneath. On top of it were an assortment of scissors and scalpels and needles and such, all splattered in blood. Dripped across the floor, and filling various vials and tubes, was a strong-scented selection of chemicals.

Sarah Jane gagged before she spoke, shutting the lid of the watch and dropping the sonic lipstick in her pocket. “This is horrible… Have they been doing experiments on it?” Wondered Sarah Jane, before carefully heading towards an area not afflicted by the stains of chemicals across the floor. Picking up a rack of test tubes, she investigated the labels curiously.

In the corner of her eye, she watched as Jack holstered his weapon and approached the Weevil. It was clear that Jack wasn’t a stranger to gruesome scenes or the sight of blood, for he dived into inspecting the body without a second thought.

“I assume they flatlined it, considering there’s no wounds.” Jack stepped closer, his hand checking for a pulse on the creature’s neck. Stone cold, and no sign of life. As he stood over the Weevil’s corpse, his eyes caught sight of scraped cuts on it’s scalp, with dried blood staining the area around it. He took hold of the Weevil’s hand and checked it’s fingernails, spotting the same dried blood tainting them. “Except, it was scratching away at it’s own mind.”

“If the Harrowing Darkness twists their minds, it makes sense they’d be more erratic and violent against itself.” Sarah Jane placed down the rack of test tubes, disheartened by the fact she couldn’t quite tell what they were. Her eyes spotted a burned stash of papers, reduced to cinder and embers sitting in the ground, with no value on the parts unscathed. “But that Weevil made the Harrowing Darkness out to be a psychic thing, not chemical.”

“Considering this one escaped the train station last night, and is now lying here dead, it could be both.”

“The psychic element lures them out, while the chemical one… kills them?”

“Are we sure they wanted to kill him?” Jack wondered, checking the boilersuit of the Weevil with intrigue, though finding nothing. Instead, his hand felt small wet patches of blood that stained the Weevil’s corpse. “They abandoned this place pretty quickly after it happened…”

Sarah Jane stirred in the silence for a moment, as she headed towards a small screen. Switching it on took a moment, and her eyes were quick to notice the machine was designed much differently to any to that of humans. The symbols she recognised, but couldn’t quite place. All that she could recognise was a timestamp, as the time switched to 2:18 am to 3:56 pm.

Pointing that out to Jack piqued his interest, and he promptly hurried towards her. He too struggled to place the alien language, though it teetered on the back of his mind like an irritant.

“So, they set up a small laboratory in an abandoned building. Test on the Weevil, kill it, and run?”

“Getting rid of enough evidence that if it’s found it can’t be understood, but they could equally return to it if they needed.”

“Careful but with limited resources.” Sarah Jane remarked, glancing over her shoulder.

Jack smiled, “Something I can relate to. If this was back in Cardiff, I’d have Gwen or Ianto help trace the details. I’m sure a while back Owen or Tosh could figure it out…” His voice trailed for a moment, taken out of his thoughts for a moment with deep grief cutting away in his heart. His eyes swelled with pain and Sarah Jane’s expression filled with remorse.

“I heard what happened with them both... I’m sorry.” She rested her hand on Jack’s, with a sympathetic glimmer in her eyes. “I met Tosh a few years ago. I didn’t know she was Torchwood until Ianto filled me in. Lovely woman.” Sarah Jane commented, smiling weakly at the faint memory of Toshiko. Their time was short lived, and the mere recollection of it had Sarah Jane yearning for a friend like her.

“I loved them both.” Jack spoke softly as he remembered them, though with a hefty sniffle and a wipe away of a few tears forming in his eyes, Jack’s face swelled with a humoured façade. “Owen always had a knack for investigating Weevil Sightings. Became their king for a while.” He set off around the makeshift laboratory and inspected the smaller details. They noted on the non-human medical kit, the small devices that seemed out of place in a hospital of any kind on Earth. Although the design seemed familiar, much like the language and symbols, he couldn’t quite place it once again.

“I assume we can both agree it’s not human’s that are behind this, right?” Holding up one of the peculiar devices, and investigating it.

“They’re definitely not involved in this part of the operation, but we can’t rule them out entirely.”

“The SUV has some testing kits, if I get it quick I can find what this is and search it in our database.”

Sarah Jane idly nodded her head, still trying to find her way around the screen and its various complex symbol. It puzzled her, but as with any good puzzle, fascinated her entirely. She stood hovering over it, trying her best to decipher what the machine was for. It almost looked like an industrial printer on wheels, though with a liquid pouch visible in a glass portion of the body of the machine.

*

Jack sauntered back out through the building, still admiring the old relic of the building. It reminded him of the life he had led in some capacity. The years he wandered through, the things he had seen in the old history of Earth. The aged structure reminded him of the previous century, even despite the rusted metal pipes and smashed glasses.

With his coat flowing behind him, he darted down the stairs and through the corridors, not quite questioning what the building used to be before it was abandoned. He hurried across the gravel path outside and headed towards the concrete path where the SUV had parked.

It stood out from the withering greenery of the industrial part of the city, with other buildings standing around them with other business fronts. He paused for a moment, his hand clutched onto the door of the SUV, taking a glimpse around him. His eyes spotted the various CCTV, and wondered if they were worth checking at all.

He launched into the backseat of the car and set about checking through the computers, which conveniently lowered themselves down upon his lap. His mind recalled Tosh sitting in this exact seat, a headset in her ear and a red leather coat clasped around her figure. He dwelled on the thought of her, missing her immensely, only then to imagine a snarky remark to bitterly fly out of Owen’s mouth.

Shaking the memories off, Jack pursued his check of the CCTV, though, to nobody's surprise, it had been cut off from any network. The cameras were essentially duds, surveying the plot of land with no actual eye to do so. He frowned and let out a disappointed sigh, before seizing a toolbox from the other seat.

Heaving it out from the car and slamming the door behind him, Jack took one more glance around. He doubted the other cameras would have spotted anything useful either, and instead decided to neglect the idea altogether.

With a slight rock of the car, from the force of the door slamming back into its frame, Jack set off towards the building. His boots grated against the gravel, though his attention was promptly turned towards the screeching tyres of a taxi arriving at the gates of the warehouse. He paused, watching carefully. Although he doubted it was the people running the operation at the building, he also grew intrigued as to who would decide to come here.

His eyes spotted three teenagers, both jolting out of the car with a great streak of panic etched across their faces. Their eyes scanned the building, whilst they handed the driver the fare. Jack was quick to recognise the trio from the photographs hanging around Sarah Jane’s house, not to mention his brief digital meeting with Luke not too long ago.

“Hey!” Shouted Luke, who shot off towards him raging with fury. His eyes scanned the man’s face, knowing he’d seen it before, but not quite able to remember. Although, as he arrived a few feet away from Jack with frustration lining his face, his mind was thrust back to the day the Earth was stolen. Dalek invasions and tremendous earthquakes, whilst a band of fighters – ‘the children of time’ – found a way to communicate despite the intervening aliens. “I know you, you’re-”

“Captain Jack Harkness.” Jack nodded his head with a gleaming smile, shooting his free hand out for a handshake. “You must be Luke Smith. You saved the Earth not too long ago, you should be proud of yourself.”

Luke blushed slightly, stuttering at the gratitude Jack paid him. Rani shook her head, before interrupting Luke’s growing moment of pride. “Where’s Sarah Jane? Mr Smith said she was here, investigating a… ‘weevil’?”

“She’s inside, but what we’re dealing with isn’t child’s play. It’s not weirdo nuns or psychograph-comet-clowns – it’s dangerous alien creatures.”

“Look, I don’t exactly know who you are, but no American guy – no matter how suave – is stopping us from investigating whatever is going on.” Clyde interjected, a fierceness in his voice – an authority which Jack admired.

“Is this to do with the attack on the tube last night?” Rani wondered, changing the topic to avoid Clyde further confronting Jack. Jack glanced at her impressed, nodding his head. “I knew it was odd. It was horrible, but something seemed unusual about it!”

Jack’s eyes darted between them all, before glancing back to the abandoned building. He frowned as he contemplated what to do. Usually, he dealt with adults throwing tantrums about being told classified information, but teenagers?

“Alright, you can come in.” He caved reluctantly, raising his voice slightly while he pointed his finger at Luke. “But only to speak to Sarah Jane.”

Chapter Text

Following Captain Jack through the decrepit building, the three teenagers glanced anxiously to one another. None of the trio knew about Torchwood or Jack’s specific job, they’d only learnt about him in passing through Sarah Jane. Stood before them was a man of mystery, with a strong American accent, in a World War II coat and a curious fact of immortality.

“How did you become immortal?” Clyde jolted forward, walking alongside the man. His head swivelled to his side, keeping pace with Jack whose coat floated behind him, carried by the quick haste in his stride. A mere tilt of Jack’s head brought them to a brief exchange of looks, where Jack’s face lit up with humour. Bustling in his mind were hundreds of stories he could tell, the examples of his immortality. His first death – his second death? – though, wondering if they were too gruesome of stories, he kept quiet for a moment. “Does everybody that travels with the Doctor get something?” Clyde added, his first question left unanswered.

“Not exactly,” Jack started, a sense of sadness swelling in his mind as he considered his response. Of course, some of the Doctor’s friends were fortunate when they left the Doctor. Some found love, like the Chestertons or Jo Jones, and some were left gifts like Sarah Jane or Martha Jones. Others lost lovers or family, like Rose Tyler or Tegan Jovanka, and others lost their memories, like Donna Noble or Jamie McCrimmon. Jack was part of a fortunate few, but even the gift he departed with had a questionable side. “Travelling with the Doctor is enough, though.” Jack uttered, almost convincing himself as he spoke.

“What’s he like? The Doctor.” Rani interjected, launching on the other side of Jack. Her eyes glistened as she fixed on him, almost resembling that of Sarah Jane. Jack paused once again, caught in a moment’s thought.

Twice now, Jack had met the Doctor in a different incarnation, and he’d heard a fair share of the others. Burned into his mind was his version of the Doctor, the black leather jacket and red or green or navy blue shirt. The northern accent and glimmer of darkness and grief, but often glossed over with the beauty of joy and happiness.

Alternatively, there was the second version. Pinstripe suit and a long brown coat, thin, with brown and well-groomed hair standing on end. He was charming and cheeky, the joy and ecstasy merely a façade covering his loss. Gallifrey and Rose, and Donna now too.

“Amazing. Unlike anybody I have ever met, and probably ever will.” Passion toned his voice, as awe stuck his face. His eyes glimmered, as did his smile, gleaming with the pearly white of his teeth.

“How did you meet him?” Luke added, having caught up alongside Clyde.

“I was a conman.” Jack admitted, with a sense of confidence and arrogance. He didn’t shy away from his history, the truth of the person he used to be. “I worked for an organisation called the Time Agency, but I left when they stole 3 years’ worth of my memories. I conned Time Agents, partly as revenge but also for money. One day, I set up the perfect con, but it was foiled.”

“The Doctor stopped you?” Rani interjected, captivated by the story.

“I mistook the Doctor for a Time Agent, and my con went awry when it infected a little boy with confused nanogenes. The Doctor fixed it, saved me from my ship exploding.” He reminisced for a moment, recalling those final few moments he thought he’d die – one of the last times he thought he would. Before the trio’s onslaught of question’s could begin again, with Rani wanting to interrogate the dress sense, they were met with a furious voice.

“What are you three doing here?” On the other side of the long hollowed room stood Sarah Jane, whose hands fixed to her hips and her face frowned with frustration. She set off towards them, the floor almost unstable as she did so, before reaching them. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around Luke and glanced towards the others, a disapproving shaking of her head aimed at the three of them. “We have to leave them out of this Jack.”

“I completely agree, but they insisted on checking up on you.” Shrugging his shoulders, Jack backed away for a moment, letting Sarah Jane have a moment with her small family. Jack envied it greatly, having wanted nothing more in his life than to settle down. But immortality made that tricky to keep up. He had children of his own, grandchildren even, but the never-ageing was a detriment to any meaningful relationship. Torchwood was the closest to family he could ever have, and even that showcased the fragility of itself.

“Why can’t we help?” Luke asked, releasing from Sarah Jane’s arms.

“You know, in every good film, it’s always the team that isn’t allowed to help that save the day.” Clyde added, smiling proudly as if attempting to foreshadow something to Sarah Jane.

“That’s not true.” Luke replied, swirling back around to Clyde confused. Although, as his eyes met Clyde’s, he was quickly hit with the realisation that it was simply a joke.

“What’s so dangerous that we can’t help here? If Sontarans and Slitheen are the level of danger that the Doctor faces, then surely we’re qualified for whatever this is.” Clyde certainly had a point, although Sarah Jane maintained there was a difference. Whenever she could keep the three out of danger, she would, but the Sontaran issue was more so an issue they couldn’t escape, and in the case of the Slitheen, Sarah Jane needed their help.

“There’s a rift in time and space in the centre of Cardiff,” Jack began, seizing the attention of the group. Etched across his face was a proud and boastful expression, as he reeled off a fact he’d told hundreds by now. “Things fall through it all the time, and one of the most common things is a creature we call, a ‘Weevil’. Usually, they’re not a threat, but when they become violent, they’re vicious. Sarah Jane is helping me track one that has found it’s way into London, and killed that woman last night.”

He nodded his head towards Rani, confirming her theory they were investigating the night prior. “I knew it!” She quietly boasted, gleaming at Luke and Clyde as she did so.

“The Weevil is deadly, which is fine for me, but not for you three.”

“It’s not exactly safe for mum either!” Luke expelled frustratedly. “She’s not like you.”

“Your mum is one of the most formidable women in the world, Luke. I’d say I’ll take care of her, but frankly, she can take care of herself.”

“Exactly.” Sarah Jane nodded her head proudly as her eyes darted around the group. It was clear, in her eyes, that she’d faced things on her own. Fought aliens and persevered alone. Protection from anybody else was the last thing she needed. With pride oozing out of her, she raised an eyebrow to the trio. “You three with me. Jack, you swab those chemicals and then drive us home.”

***

As the SUV found itself arriving on Bannerman Road, it was a loud call of attention by Gita Chandra which drew the attention of the arriving party. Her eyes peered across the road in intrigue and noisiness, as she pretended to water a bush or a plant or a flowerbed – truth was, she hadn't paid enough attention to what she was watering. If she had, she’d have sooner realised it was already overwatered the day prior.

Shooting across the street with incredible speed, Gita almost fainted at the sight of the handsome man in the billowing coat. She watched as he slammed the car door, and handed over a small computer screen for Sarah Jane to take, whilst his other hand clasped onto a hefty black metallic box. The swooning woman was only clocked by Rani when it was too late, once she stood mere inches away from the American man. His eyes met her and she almost felt her body collapse at the sight of him.

“Mum…” Rani shouted, running around the car and wrapping her arms around her to edge her away.

“It’s alright, darling. I was just popping over… to ask about…” Her eyes darted around, catching sight of the toolbox clutched in Jack’s hand once again. “Tools.” She confidently exclaimed, trying to keep up a façade. Sarah Jane peered back from the door and let out a slight sigh, knowing this was exactly what she feared. “But who’s your friend, Sarah?”

“Captain Jack Harkness, you must be the lovely Gita. Sarah Jane was telling me all about you.” If it wasn’t the flattering tone to his American voice, it was the slightly flirtatious sentiment Jack adopted in his words. He held out his free hand to Gita, watching as she blushed and stuttered.

“Well, I hope it was all good. Sarah being a journalist means she knows everything about everyone. I, on the other hand try to keep very private. I keep myself to myself, and the world far away from me. I work with flowers you see, I absolutely love spending time with nature. The smell, the colours… you know. I don’t suppose you’re in need of any flowers?” The rate at which Gita blurted her words out gave nobody else a chance to stop her, only finding relief once she’d asked a question. Her eyes fixed on Jack curiously and intently, waiting for his answer.

“I usually source any flowers I need in Cardiff.”

“Cardiff is so far away, I’m sure by the time they even arrive, they won’t be as good as they could be here. I could get them for you fresh my darling, straight picked and delivered without any hassle straight to where you live.”

“I think Cardiff would be better in that case.” Jack smirked, amused, watching as Gita’s face faded with disappointment. “It’s where I live.”

“With his boyfriend.” Sarah Jane called out, stunning them all for a moment. Even Jack turned around, taken by surprise himself, not quite considering Ianto with something so official. Gita let out a little ‘oh’, which either toned an intrigue or disappointment – arguably it signalled both.

“I think that’s really brave of you. And to be so open all the way out there… in Wales.”

“Oh, believe me, you’d be surprised how open it is in Cardiff.” Jack wagged his eyebrows in the implication, before swivelling around on the spot and heading indoors. Sarah Jane sighed and shook her head slightly, now understanding the reputation that Captain Jack had garnered.

“Really?” Gita responded, with genuine surprise and intrigue. “That’s... lovely - Bloomin’ Lovely. That’s the name of my business.” She dived her hand into her pocket, retrieving a small business card with a gleaming smile. Jack took it eagerly, happily amused by the quirky hyperactivity of Rani’s mum, before glimpsing down to the black card that bore the logo and name and contact information of Gita Chandra.

“Well, we really must be off – it was lovely meeting you Gita.” He kissed her hand before he headed inside, altogether throwing Gita off everything she thought she’d learnt about the stranger.

She seized hold of Rani’s arm and her face flickered to nosiness. “Who’s he?”

“Friend of Sarah Jane’s.” Rani answered, not giving too much away as she didn’t know much herself.

“They worked on a story together a few months ago.” Luke added, walking alongside Clyde and Rani as they exited the driveway.

“They’re working on a story now, about the attack on the Tube last night.” Rani added quietly, shiftily glancing back to her friends.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll get to the bottom of it. Sarah’s always been a dab-hand at these things.”

“Sarah Jane.” Rani corrected, almost second nature like Sarah Jane herself. Although, as her eyes glanced back towards Gita, she found no fortune in changing Gita’s response.

Letting out a quiet, “Exactly,” Gita briskly headed for her front door. With that, she resumed whatever it was she was doing, before her nosy interest was piqued by the black SUV arriving on Sarah Jane’s driveway.

Clyde and Luke waved goodbye to Rani, watching as she shut the door behind her. They exchanged weak smiles to one another, lasting only a mere few seconds. The door slammed shut, and the pair swivelled back around towards 13 Bannerman Road. Clyde and Luke felt a mixture of emotions, somewhat envious that Sarah Jane was heading off on an exciting adventure without them, but also some concern that the life led by the immortal Captain Jack was too dangerous for her.

Nevertheless, as their eyes lingered on the beautiful tower-like building, which overlooked the street with grandeur, the pair jetted back down the street. Clyde’s house wasn’t too far from Luke’s, which gave them both some level of comfort should they have needed to flee back to Sarah Jane’s safety.

***

As the sun beat up high, slowly dropping down into the horizon, Sarah Jane and Captain Jack sat bemused in the attic. They waited for results from Mr Smith to ping back with some explanation, but the chemicals they had collected were a complex manufactured assortment. He had identified certain chemicals, but now he analysed their uses – a process which was taking longer than usual.

“Don’t you get… claustrophobic in here?” Jack asked, swivelling his head back around to the woman. His face filled with intrigue and curiosity, while hers responded with an expression which represented how taken aback she was.

“Not all of us can afford large bases underneath landmarks, funded by the monarchy.” Sarah Jane remarked with cynicism and humour toning her voice. “I like it up here. It’s humble and comfortable. Reminds me that I’m not fighting aliens – I’m protecting Earth. Protecting people… Doesn’t that base ever feel… big? Empty? It’s all concrete and rusting metal and old computers and dirty walls. It can’t feel like home.”

Jack peered back towards her, considering her analysis of the Hub. It had barely changed over the century he’d been there, but now reflecting on it, the base was probably in some need of a re-design. Torchwood 1 had the resources for something like that – but his Torchwood was now reduced to three members, with Martha Jones on occasional freelance.

“Wait a minute,” Jack was suddenly hit by a realisation, which prompted his silence. His eyes stared back to Sarah Jane confused, even more confused than he was by her comfort in the attic. “Have you been to the base before? When?”

Sarah Jane smiled guiltily, her mind clearly reminiscing on a little trip to Cardiff she had taken before. Jack stared at her cautiously, sceptically, his mind racing back on the few times she could have snuck in. He wondered if Ianto was back to his old tricks, inviting people into the base when everybody had gone out – perhaps he needed to check the basement for any Cyberwomen again.

“It’s what Torchwood is – for me. Rudimentary, simple. Old and yet the future.” They glanced to one another, a look in their eyes accepting the key difference in their opinions. Their views of home and comfort differed significantly, but their experiences after the Doctor were too.

“Nothing would ever beat the TARDIS though.” Remarked Sarah Jane, her eye flickering towards a faded poster resembling the old police boxes. Her face lit up at the memory of the TARDIS – all the versions she had seen. The white and simple interior, the Victorian wooden style, and then the most recent Doctor’s TARDIS. Coral-themed, with bronze roundels and a horrible green shimmer to the console.

Jack’s face lit up too in full agreement. He only knew the one interior, but he agreed. Nothing beat it – nothing carried the awe and beauty. The grandiose scale and the impossibility. The raw power it leaked as it ripped through the time vortex.

“We don’t need a TARDIS.” Jack commented, shaking himself out of the nostalgia. “Me and you – we made the best out of our situation. You have this beautiful house, a supercomputer, a genius son. And I have my base, my team…” His voice trailed off, though his face told Sarah Jane everything.

“And?” She probed, knowing his answer before he even spoke it aloud – which was useful, considering Jack shrugged it off for a moment. “Will you ever accept you’re in love with him?” Sarah Jane’s voice was stern and serious, though not in a demeaning way. It held power and knowledge, experience toning her voice.

Avoiding eye contact, Jack pivoted his head towards Mr Smith. Almost as though the universe aligned in his favour, the Xylok abruptly interrupted the stirring silence. A flash of green text appeared on the screen, before the monotone and robotic voice of Mr Smith called out towards them.

“Analysis complete.” Drawing Sarah Jane and Jack’s attention towards him, who both leapt to their feet as they hurtled down the few steps and stood before the false chimney. “The chemical mixture appears to be comprised of three different compounds. The first appears to be a sedative, guaranteed to work on extra-terrestrials. The second contains traces of a medical anaesthetic. The third, however, appears to be a hormone-inducing product, linked closely to primal emotions of rage and violence.”

Jack and Sarah Jane shot confused glances towards one another. “So… these scientists, are sedating Weevils, giving them painkillers and then… making them violent?” Jack wondered, his face swelling with confusion.

“Why do the first two steps?” Sarah Jane wondered, fiddling with an alien artefact for a moment, before her eyes fixed on Jack. “Considering the set-up they had – they must be doing more than just injections.”

“Let me guess, it’s a Sweeny Todd tale.” Jack laughed, before noticing Sarah Jane’s unamused face.

“You know,” Sarah Jane started, her sternness in her voice masquerading as some amusement. “The worst part is, it’s not even out of the realm of possibility. Shakespeare met witches, Dicken’s met ghosts, Agatha Christie lived out a murder novel. One of the Jack the Ripper’s was eaten by a lizard woman…”

“Vastra always was a peculiar one. But she always made trips to London fun.” Jack reminisced for a moment, remembering a late Victorian London with some nostalgic glimmering in his mind. Sarah Jane glanced curiously towards him, her confusion settling after remembering Jack’s immortal lifespan had kept him about for long enough to see London change throughout.

Between them stirred a silence. They both stood quietly, their minds racing through everything they knew to find some form of an explanation, but nothing came to mind. It was puzzling and perplexing, all seeming to be a redundant stream of operations which served no purpose.

Between them, a variety of reasons explained either the surgical aspect or the hormone aspect, but nothing seemed feasible a suggestion to explain why they both happened. Every few seconds, their eyes met and they considered jumping in with an explanation, but ultimately they decided against it; preserving the silence between them.

A sudden red flash upon Mr Smith’s screen displayed a rendering of 13 Bannerman Road. Depicting its grandiose scale and even the two cars out front in a gridded green and black display, Mr Smith abruptly layered a pulsating red dot at the back door of the house.

“Sarah Jane, I am picking up life signs gathering around the house.” Alerted Mr Smtih, quieting his voice slightly, as not to alert the intruders of their presence.

“Extra-terrestrial?” Sarah Jane wondered, whispering to herself as she approached the wall carefully and quietly. She watched as Mr Smith scanned the house once again, before an array of code flickered on one side of the screen, and a shifting display rested on the other. She and Jack watched as the supercomputer struggled to get a certain sign of the creatures.

“They appear to wearing jammers, my sensors cannot determine what form they are.”

“Weevils? Jack posed, fully aware that nothing had been able to discover their origins. All they had were theories, but nothing concrete explained how the Weevils had arrived on Earth – positing the haunting possibility they had been on Earth all along.

Sarah Jane entertained the notion, though as Mr Smith categorically denied any possibility that it was them, she found herself stumped.

“We need to protect ourselves.” Jack stated, reaching down towards his holster. He reached for a second gun and handed it towards Sarah Jane, gesturing with some demanding furiocity. “Take this, Miss Smith. Whoever these guys are, I get the feeling they’re not interested in adding to the story.”

Sarah Jane shook her head violently. “No, Captain. We settle this peacefully. No guns, no violence, no provocation. Mr Smith, I need you to hide.” She seized her jacket and fitted herself for a moment. Checking her pocket, she made sure her handy sonic lipstick was jangling around her pocket, before setting off outside the attic.

With a quiet gust of wind, the Xylok’s interface retreated back into the wall. Jack stood in awe, amazed by how seamless it appeared to be. Without fail or doubt, the Supercomputer blended into the wall, raising no question as to what technology resided behind the brick chimney.