Work Text:
Las Vegas, 1978
Now
Vanessa's screams echoed in Jack's mind. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself as another agent pushed past him, joining Brian on the floor beside the body. Someone else pulled the girl away, holding her back so that the men could work.
Even as the wailing gave way to sobbing, Jack knew it was hopeless. They'd been too late at every point on this one. Too late to stop alien material falling into the wrong hands, too late to save Vanessa's brother. And now? Too late to save Hywel.
Brian looked up from the CPR, catching Jack's eye and giving the tiniest shake of his head. The world spun as Jack turned away, trying to look anywhere but the lifeless body. Lifeless. Something flared at the back of his mind.
"Get out," he croaked, making everyone jump. His throat was constricted by emotion and he had to clear it before speaking again. "Take the girl and get out."
The other agent, still trying to breathe life into the dead, looked like he was going to carry on regardless, until Brian put a hand on his arm. Vanessa had to be half-carried from the room, sagging against the agents who wouldn't meet Jack's eye. Finally, he was left alone with the body. With Hywel.
The young man's face was utterly still and so pale. But when Jack knelt and touched his cheek, the skin was almost warm, not yet drained of heat by death. Which meant there was still a chance. And if Jack had learnt anything, it was that sometimes, one chance was all you needed.
2am, Saturday 15th April, 1978
"You're sure she's coming?" Hywel asked for the eighteenth time, pacing in the small hotel room.
"She'll be here." Jack was stretched out on the bed, his tie and jacket long since abandoned. "This is Vegas, remember? She'll still be working."
"It's two in the morning!"
"Like I said." Sighing, Jack closed his eyes. "Do you have to do that? You're making me dizzy."
"Sorry." The bed dipped as Hywel perched on the end. "But are you sure about this? I mean, I've never done anything like this before."
"I'm sure." Jack opened his eyes, smiling at the younger man. "You're going to be fine."
"Okay." Hywel looked at his watch again. "You're sure she's coming?"
"I'm sure." Closing his eyes again, Jack let his mind drift. It wasn't sleep, it couldn't be sleep, but it was close enough for now. "Just relax."
"How do you relax when you're about to do something like this?" Hywel asked.
"You're going to be fine," Jack said again. "Trust me."
"But what if-" Hywel's question was cut short by a knock at the door. The bed bounced as he jumped to his feet. "I'll get it."
Smiling to himself tolerantly, Jack rolled off the bed, standing up in time to meet the girl whom Hywel was ushering into the room. She gave him a weak smile. "Hi."
"Hello yourself." He looked her up and down. "You look like hell."
"Thank you." She sank down onto the bed. "I had trouble getting away tonight and it's such hard work keeping this from them. They're always watching." She looked up at him, her face pale in the dim light. "I'm sorry, Jack, I couldn't get it."
"It's okay," he said, sitting down next to her and beckoning for Hywel to pull up a chair. "But we're against the clock here, so I got you some extra help. This is Hywel, the guy I told you about. Hywel, this is Vanessa Dyers."
Hywel held onto the offered hand for a moment, looking into Vanessa's eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Dyers."
"Please, call me Vanessa," she said. "And Peter's the reason I'm doing this."
"Your brother would be very proud of you." Hywel finally let go of her hand and Jack grinned.
"I'm glad the two of you get on so well since, with any luck, Hywel's going to be the next recruit to your exclusive club." Seeing Vanessa's puzzled look, he went on, "Tomorrow night, Hywel, or David Prince as his passport says, is going to spectacularly lose most of his inheritance at the roulette tables."
Hywel gave a sheepish smile and Vanessa nodded. "That should do it. But what about-"
"I'll take care of it," Jack said, cutting her short. "Just you be there to encourage him along the way. I want him all spent out by the time morning comes and he's got lots to spend. And I need the package tomorrow. Without fail."
"I'll do my best," she said, giving Hywel a last smile before getting to her feet. "I'd better get back. See you tomorrow night."
When she was gone, Hywel turned to Jack.
"You were a bit hard on her, weren't you? Her brother is dead."
"So are six others. And if she's not going to be the seventh, I need her focussed. She has to understand how important this is." Jack got to his feet and crossed to the small desk in the corner of the room.
"I think she got it," Hywel said, trailing after him. "And what exactly is it that you're going to 'take care of'?"
Instead of answering, Jack opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a slim black leather case. "There are some things I need to tell you," he said, turning back to Hywel. "Let's sit down."
He laid the case on the bed between them, unzipping it and removing the contents as he talked.
"The package I need from Vanessa is more of this stuff. I've only got enough for a couple of doses and you're going to need them. We need more to send to the lab."
"What the hell is going on? You said you needed me for an undercover mission." Hywel's eyes were wide as Jack placed a syringe and vial on the bed. "You said people were being killed. You never said anything about drugs."
"Not just drugs. Alien drugs." Seeing the other man's worry, Jack became serious. "This is important, Hywel. Vanessa's boss has got his hands on some kind of alien substance that induces telepathy in ordinary human beings. The dead men either worked for him or were business rivals."
"What did they die of?" Hywel was still staring at the accoutrements on the bed, jumping slightly when Jack put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his attention back.
"Overdoses, for the most part. And two guys who thought they could muscle in were killed by strokes, probably induced. This stuff is seriously dangerous and worth a lot of money in the wrong hands. Think about it. You're sitting across a poker table from someone and you know exactly what cards he's holding. And that's just one scenario. In a town like Vegas, the possibilities are endless."
"Where do I fit in?" Hywel shifted, wariness in his face as he moved away from Jack's hand. Letting go, Jack carried on with his preparations.
"They recruit people who need the money," he said. "People who are willing to take a risk, not scared to gamble and with nothing left to lose. It seems like a good way out."
"So you set me up as their next target."
"Exactly. But in order to do that, we need them not to know that you're with Torchwood. Which is where this stuff comes in." Jack tapped the small bottle. "Vanessa got it last week. I tell you, if the call girl thing falls through, she could have a fine career as a petty thief. It'll give you some practice, let me teach you some things you'll need to know." He picked the bottle up, giving it a slight shake and watching the clear liquid turn cloudy. "The idea is that you get the hang of it enough that you can block your thoughts from them, so they can't scan you. Some people are hard to read anyway and with any luck, they won't be able to get through."
"With any luck?"
Jack shrugged. "It's a risk, I know. But it's better than the alternative."
"What's the alternative?"
"They identify you as an agent, take you out back and shoot you."
There was a long pause.
"That's worse," Hywel said at last.
"Your father would never forgive me." Jack managed to smile despite Hywel's obvious discomfort. "You'll be fine. I can show you what to do." He uncapped the syringe and pushed the needle into the bottle. "Take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve."
Hywel obeyed, watching Jack's movements. "Why aren't you doing this, Jack? Not that it's not good to see you and not that I'm not flattered that you called, but why do you need me?"
"Because I know you. I trust you." Jack finished filling the barrel and lifted the hypodermic to the light. "And because I can't do this myself."
"Why not?" Hywel finished wrestling with his cuff, reaching out to put a hand on Jack's. "Why can't you do this?"
"For one thing, I'm in charge, and you don't keep a dog and bark yourself," Jack smiled, gently freeing his hand and tapping the syringe for air bubbles. "For another, I'm not like you. I don't know what this stuff would do to me and we can't afford to find out."
"Not like me?" Hywel repeated. "What are you talking about?"
"Hywel..." Jack paused, trying to find the words. He'd become so used to Hugh's quiet acceptance and 'don't need to know' approach that he'd got out of the habit of explaining himself, to his friends at least. "It'd take too long," he said, telling himself that it was true. "You just need to trust me on this. Please?" He laid a hand on Hywel's arm. "I know what I'm doing."
Hywel nodded, turning his arm over in Jack's grip, his eyes moving from Jack's eyes to the fingers on his skin and back again. "Will I be able to read your mind?" he asked, a slight smile playing around his lips.
"No," Jack said, releasing his grip and picking up the tourniquet from the bed. "I've got what you might call a natural immunity. Make a fist for me."
Hywel obeyed, still looking more than a little unsure of himself. "How-"
"You'll understand in a minute." Running his thumb over the inside of Hywel's elbow, Jack found what he was looking for. He carefully wiped the skin with an antiseptic pad before pressing the needle in. Hywel hissed, but didn't flinch. "It's going to be fine," Jack said, carefully depressing the plunger. He found a ball of cotton wool, holding it to the injection site as he pulled the needle out and released the tourniquet. "Just relax."
"What's supposed to happen?" Hywel asked, keeping the cotton wool in place as Jack put everything away again.
"It takes a minute," Jack told him. "Just lie back and relax. Vanessa said the first time was a bit overwhelming."
"You tell me this now?" Grumbling a little, Hywel shifted up the bed, leaning against the headboard. Once the black pouch was safely back in the drawer, Jack went over to join him, perching on the edge of the bed and gently holding his wrist.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine." Hywel peered down at his arm, taking the cotton ball away. "I don't seem to be bleeding out of any orifices yet."
"That's a good start." Under Jack's fingers, Hywel's pulse was strong and steady and his face was only slightly flushed. "Close your eyes for me."
Hywel gave him a suspicious look. "What are you going to do?"
"Well, once I find my camera…" Jack began, breaking off to laugh when he saw the look on Hywel's face. "Oh relax. You'll be able to concentrate better, that's all."
They sat like that for a while, Jack's fingers pressed to Hywel's wrist, with only the sounds of traffic on the Strip and Hywel's steady breathing breaking the silence. If he hadn't been listening for it, Jack probably would have missed the tiny gasp, so sudden and swift that even Hywel didn't seem to have noticed. The steady heartbeat jumped for a moment, beginning to speed up just a fraction. Closing his eyes, Jack focussed in on the sensation, letting his own heart beat in time with Hywel's.
The moment of connection was always a shock and Jack's fingers clenched reflexively. Hywel's mind was full of colour and light and Jack was temporarily overwhelmed. Carefully, he used the connection to reach back, touch the flailing senses and bring them into order. After a moment's contact, the muscles under his hand relaxed and the other man began to breathe normally again although his pulse was still a little too fast.
Slowly, Jack opened his eyes, smiling as Hywel blinked, staring around the room as though seeing it for the first time.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Fine. Great." Hywel's eyes were still slightly unfocussed. "I mean, I don't feel that different."
"It's like you can hear properly for the first time, but you don't know what the sounds mean," Jack said and Hywel nodded.
"Yeah. I mean. Wow."
"Enjoy." Jack glanced at his watch. "The effects last about six hours and we've got a lot of work to do."
"Work?" Hywel turned his head, finally managing to look at Jack properly.
Grinning, Jack reached out and ruffled his hair. "You need to learn how to protect yourself, remember?"
"Oh. Okay." Turning away again, Hywel laid back and stared at the ceiling. "Can you just give me a minute?"
"Of course."
Jack picked up Hywel's jacket from the bed, hanging it across the back of a chair along with his own. As he did so, he felt something brush against his mind, gently at first then more persistently. Smiling, he let it continue for a moment, occupying himself with rearranging the hotel stationery. If Hywel was going to learn how to build a wall round his mind, he might as well see one from the outside first. Only when the touches moved from tentative presses to near-shoves did Jack turn around.
"That's enough," he said firmly. "Playtime's over."
"Time to work?" Hywel asked, sounding disappointed.
"We've got a lot to do," Jack confirmed, coming over to sit on the bed again. "Let's start at the beginning."
Now
Jack slipped his hand across Hywel's cheek, reaching down to support the back of his neck. He put the other hand on the side of the pale face, steadying it as he bent over. It took an effort of will not to hold his breath as he leaned closer, trying not to overbalance. He needed his breath right now. Hywel needed it.
Gently, he pressed his lips down on Hywel's cold mouth, closing his eyes and reaching out. This wasn't a process he could control or even understand, not really. But if there was enough of a spark, enough inside the other man to reach out and find him, then it could work. It had to work.
After a moment, he drew back, looking down at his friend. Hywel's eyes were still closed and there was no sign that there was anything for Jack to reach for. Refusing to give in, Jack tried again, fighting down the rising panic and willing Hywel to find him, to still be in there and respond. He tried to ride the adrenaline, use it to break down the wall between them, to feel the other man's mind in his.
There was nothing.
11pm, Saturday 15th April
Jack could hear Hugh's laughter still, even over the noise of the Riviera Casino at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. His friend had kept it up for at least five minutes after Jack had said that he didn't really like Las Vegas that much. Even down the phone, it had been a good sound.
The noise here was too much, the obviousness of it offended Jack's sense of style and the people got on his nerves. He had no objections on the grounds of morality, only good taste. They wouldn't be able to do opulence right for at least another fifty years, and it'd take another three hundred before Vegas really hit its galactic stride.
For now though, he was stuck in this crass place and time, listening to Hugh in his head while the slot machines beeped raucously and the people cheered at the craps tables behind him. He'd been nursing his second scotch for nearly half an hour and while his generous tipping was keeping the barman off his back, he knew he'd start to attract attention if he didn't move on soon.
Right on cue, he felt the mental equivalent of a tap on his shoulder. Hard enough that he noticed, but nowhere near hard enough to be a serious assault on his shields. She was getting good at this.
"Two Martinis, please." Having ordered, Vanessa leaned on the bar, returning Jack's smile with a knowing smirk.
"Hi there," he said, keeping his voice light, flirtatious.
"Hello." She matched his tone, her fingers playing with the dollar bills in her hands. "Drinking alone?"
"Not any more." Okay, so it was cheesy as hell, but it was all in the delivery. He felt her mind brush against his again, a mixture of genuine amusement and concern. This was how she did it, he realised, feeding back to the men what they wanted to hear. The perfect companion, if that was what you wanted, able to anticipate your every wish. Which, to his mind, took all the fun out of the game.
"Sorry," she said, managing to get real regret into her voice, "but I already have someone to drink with."
"Pity." As the glasses were placed in front of them, Jack fished in a pocket and pulled out a bill. Resting his elbow on the bar, he held it out towards the barman. "Let me."
"No, really." She put her hand on his, wrapping her fingers round and pushing down while she held out her own money in her other hand. "I can't."
"Well, if the situation changes, let me know." Jack let his hand fall back to his pocket, tucking the note away again. "I'm here all week."
"I'll remember." Giving him a last, knowing look, she picked up the glasses and headed away. Jack very carefully didn't turn to watch her, already having seen Hywel at the roulette table earlier in the evening. He didn't need Jack checking up on him. Hopefully. Draining his drink, Jack put the glass back down on the bar and headed for the elevators.
Back in his room, he sat at the desk and took an envelope out of a drawer. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small white packet, about half the size of a playing card, that Vanessa had slipped him. It had been an excellent pass, from the careful misdirection to the expert palming, every move planned and carried out to perfection.
These tricks had been the tool of his trade at one time and he spent a few minutes playing, hiding the packet, palming it and moving it from one hand to the other, making it disappear and reappear, just to prove that he hadn't forgotten how. With a small sigh, he dropped it into the envelope and sealed it. Then he slipped off his shoes and jacket and moved over to the bed, settling himself down to wait.
He was in the half-doze that was the closest he got to sleep when the phone rang, just once, then stopped. Blinking, he peered at the clock. Two-forty five.
Hywel's room was two floors up and in the opposite wing of the hotel from Jack's, but he took the stairs, just in case. There was no point risking being seen at this point. Hywel must have been waiting behind the door, because it opened after Jack's first, gentle knock.
"Come in." Hywel was still wearing his dress shirt and trousers, but the bowtie and jacket seemed to have been abandoned some time ago. He looked tired.
"Did you lose?" Jack asked, taking a seat.
Hywel nodded. "Twenty-four thousand dollars, just about. That's ten thousand pounds." He sighed. "It's a lot of money, Jack."
"That was the idea. You should have attracted someone's attention." Seeing the colour rise up Hywel's face, Jack grinned. "Yes, I think you already have Vanessa's."
"She's nice," Hywel said weakly. "I mean, well, she's a lovely girl."
"Despite the job." Feeling cruel but pressing on none the less, Jack said, "Don't forget that, Hywel. Don't let her fool you."
"Fool me?" Hywel looked genuinely outraged. "What do you mean?"
"I mean she's a beautiful woman in an expensive dress who can look into your mind and see what you want. You're both supposed to be working. Remember that."
"I get it." Grumbling a little to himself, Hywel fell onto the bed, making the springs squeak.
"Tired?" Jack asked.
"Knackered." Propping himself up on an elbow, Hywel looked across the room. "How do you keep it up all the time?"
"Practice," Jack told him, remembering who he was talking to and resisting the obvious come backs. "Also habit and, like I said, natural immunity. But you're holding out okay?"
"Fine." Hywel frowned. "Someone tried to get in at one point, but I don't think they found anything. Vanessa helped me."
"Good. She's had more experience than you."
"Did you get the packet?"
"It's in an envelope ready for the FBI. They're on stand-by, just waiting for a location." Jack rubbed his eyes. "The main supply won't be on the premises and we need to know where it is before we can make a move."
"Right." Hywel slumped down again and Jack smiled.
"I'll let you get some sleep. You're going to need it."
"Thanks. Hang on, Jack. Wait a second."
One hand on the doorknob, Jack turned back to the bed. "What is it?"
"Why me?"
"What?"
"If the FBI are on stand-by, they must be in on it. And I know there are Torchwood operatives in America. You recruited most of them. So why fly me all the way out here from Cardiff?" Hywel was still lying flat on the bed, his head turned towards Jack, who took a deep breath.
"Maybe I just wanted to see you," he said. Seeing Hywel's surprise, he went on quickly, "Maybe I wanted to work with someone I could trust; who I knew was up to the job."
"How did you know I would be?" Hywel asked, sitting up a little. "We've never worked together before. Not really."
"Your father said you were," Jack said simply. "And I trust him."
Considering this for a moment, Hywel's expression relaxed although his eyes were still clouded. Jack kicked himself for not realising how tired he'd be. Finally, Hywel gave him a crooked smile. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. Get some sleep."
"You don't have to go," Hywel said quickly, struggling to sit up properly. "I mean, I'm not that tired yet."
"Yes, you are and so am I," Jack lied, turning back to the door. "You're going to need all your energy tomorrow."
"I suppose." Stifling a yawn, Hywel gave a sheepish smile. "I just meant, well, it's good to see you."
"And you. Look after yourself."
"Goodnight, Jack."
Slipping out of the door, Jack paused in the hallway for a moment, leaning against the door and taking a deep breath. Then he walked silently to the nearest junction which gave him a view down to the elevators. Peering round the corner, he saw a large man in a badly-fitting suit sitting on what looked like a very uncomfortable chair right next to the elevator doors. Smiling to himself, Jack turned and went back to the door for the stairs. It was a nice feeling, being right. It also gave him something to think about besides the look on Hywel's face when he'd asked him not to leave. As if Jack didn't have enough on his mind already.
Shaking his head to try and banish the thought, Jack headed down the stairs and back to his own room to wait out another long night.
Now
Getting slowly to his feet, Jack crossed the room towards the table, pulling his jacket off as he went. He concentrated on the movement - five steps, count them, focus on this not the madness at the edge of your mind - stepping carefully over Hywel's body and hearing his footsteps echo in the quiet.
Five vials sat on the table, seeming to glow under the harsh fluorescent lights. Next to them was a box of syringes. Jack hesitated for a moment as he rolled up his sleeve, glancing back over his shoulder. If he left it much longer, even this might not work. Of course, this might not work either, but he couldn't look Hugh in the face and say he hadn't tried.
In the long litany of crazy things that he'd done, Jack decided that this was possibly the craziest. But his hand barely shook as he reached out and picked up a needle.
3.15 pm, Sunday 16th April
The café downtown was the last place that a successful businessman staying at the Riviera Hotel and Casino would be found, which was why Jack was sitting at a booth in the corner, ignoring a cold coffee and watching the passers-by.
He didn't turn when someone slipped onto the bench opposite him.
"It's under the table," he said, eyes still on the street. "It should be enough for the lab to analyse."
"Do we have an address yet?"
Jack shook his head. "I should have it for you tonight or tomorrow. Be ready."
"We are. How's your man holding up?"
Turning at last, Jack met Brian Smith's curious look. "He's fine."
"Really?"
"Really." For all that he liked and almost trusted the FBI agent, this wasn't the time or place for doubts. They were too far along for that. "He's tougher than he looks."
"It's your call." Brian ordered two more coffees from the waitress when she came, then looked back at Jack. "I was told not to tell you this but you've got to know. We found another body this morning."
Jack's stomach lurched. "Where?"
"City limits. Exactly like the others. Not a mark on him, just blood in his eyes, ears and nose. The post mortem showed that half the blood vessels in his brain burst."
"Was a he a user or a victim?" Jack asked and Brian snorted.
"You're telling me there's a difference at this point?" Seeing Jack's frown, he said, "A user. He worked security at the Riviera."
Jack swore under his breath, turning back to the window as the waitress brought their drinks.
"You'd better take care of your boy," Brian said evenly, adding sugar to his coffee. "Sounds like the stakes are going up."
"Yeah." Forcing his mind away from all the unpleasant scenarios that presented themselves, Jack said, "Any sign that he's been made?"
"No. Things are pretty quiet."
"Apart from the dead bodies."
"Well, yes. Apart from that."
Jack sighed. "I'll tell him to be careful. They rang him this morning, told him to be in the lobby at two. I don't think they took him to the source, but we might just get that little bit closer."
Brian glanced at his watch. "It's gone three. When will you know?"
"Later tonight, if it went according to plan."
"Good." Jack heard the rustle of paper and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Brian tuck something into his jacket pocket. "Look after yourself."
"Always. You'll hear from me."
Jack let his second coffee go cold as well, watching Vegas pass by his window. At last, he tipped the waitress, pulled up the collar on his beaten leather jacket and headed back to the hotel.
11pm, Sunday 16th April
That night, he watched a rather more subdued Hywel playing the Blackjack tables. Given the nature of the game, it was probably meant to be a test rather than a serious exercise. Let them see if the new boy was up to the job.
Vanessa had moved on, hovering behind the shoulder of a sweating craps player, feeding him scotch and encouraging noises as he laid down enough money to buy her company every night for a week. Even Jack had to admit a grudging admiration for the easy way she led the man on, using every trick Jack knew and a few that were only available to her. It was probably a very expensive dress and would have to be worn over very expensive lingerie. And what was the point of spending all that money if no-one got to see it?
Smiling to himself, Jack headed towards one of the poker rooms that he'd been drifting around for the past few nights. It was seriously suspicious to come to Vegas and never take a seat at a table, even if your cover story said you were a successful, cautious businessman just here for a bit of R&R. Nobody that cautious came to Vegas to relax.
He played with little interest for half an hour or so, not losing or winning too much and so attract attention to himself. Two of his fellow players changed, the new men bringing new money and a breath of fresh air to the table, despite the enormous cigars that seemed to be the accessory du jour. Jack won a hand, lost a hand and let his eyes wander round the room between deals. Someone in this room knew exactly what everyone round this table was holding, how high they were willing to bet, how far they'd go to win and what that winning meant to them. Jack held back his smile, reaching for his drink instead. If you were good enough, you didn't need to read minds to know all that.
The bland, faintly amused expression that he'd worn for the whole game stayed in place, even as someone touched the edge of his mind. It was distracting, a feather-light brush rather than a serious probe, but if they found nothing, Jack knew they'd try again. Nodding for two new cards from the dealer, he forced himself to concentrate on the game, letting the thoughts bob to the surface of his mind.
Two queens. Could be enough. Opposite hasn't got them, the cards or the guts, I'll bet. Next guy might. Bluff him out. No reading third guy, can't tell 'til he bets.
It took more effort to broadcast the thoughts than it had done to protect them and Jack had to be careful. Any outward or inner slip and he and Hywel were in deep water.
Tossing his chips into the centre, he kept up the running commentary that all players had in their heads, while his eyes did another circuit of the room. His basic, responsive ability didn't give him any kind of directional indication, so it might be anyone from the dealer to the guy in the Hawaiian shirt lounging in the corner to the woman in the paste diamonds to the-
Gotcha.
He called, laying his hand down and letting his smile creep from half to full as he raked in the chips. The man he'd spotted, in a dark suit and tie, was watching the game with an intensity that it really didn't deserve. He carried on watching, and frowning, as the following hand played out. Jack folded early on, taking the chance to observe his fellow players and concentrate on the growing battle in his mind. Blocking a probe was easy. Blocking a probe without the prober knowing he was being blocked was damn difficult, especially if you were trying to play poker at the same time.
It was even harder to concentrate through the next hand, although he kept his half-smirk in place and ordered another drink from a passing waiter. Nothing outward was the key.
Oh yes. Three threes. Please, baby, please. Just this once.
He could feel the intruder pounding at his shields, all attempt at subtlety gone. Every blow hurt. Jack kept his mind and face as blank as possible, maintaining the gambler's liturgy as he discarded and accepted, all too aware that the running commentary was dangerously draining on his resources.
Damnit. Still just threes. Not enough. Or is it. Let it be. Let it be enough.
Let this be enough, Jack hoped, swallowing hard as his mind was suddenly enveloped by the other. It was a trick he hadn't expected and it took all his concentration not to let his surprise show on his face. Carelessly throwing a chip into the centre, he stacked his cards together as he always did, watching the other men.
If you can't remember what you've got, you shouldn't be in the game. Just place the bet already.
He was drowning in fog now, hot, red darkness at the edge of his vision as the other mind swamped his, trying to find a way in. There were ways to fight off that kind of attack, but not without your opponent knowing what had happened. Jack called and raised as his turn came round, making his decision as the chips hit the baize.
Without warning, he slammed his mental shields back into place, fighting to control his breathing as relief washed through him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other man sag a little, half-raising a hand towards his head before he could stop himself. Jack flicked his eyes round his fellow players again, watching for the tells and tricks, knowing that, despite the lousy number of spots on his cards, this hand was his.
The others must have sensed it as well and finally the last of them folded without a fight. Nodding all round, Jack pushed a few chips towards the dealer and got to his feet.
"Thank you, gentlemen. And good night."
Jack left without looking back, only glancing to one side to check that Hywel was still in place before heading for the elevators and the sanctuary of his room. The excitement and danger over, he could feel his defences starting to crumble and could only hope that his disorientation was misinterpreted. The four brandies he'd had during the game should help with that, although he was seriously regretting them now.
Getting to safety was harder than he'd thought. He fought the urge to put out a hand to support himself as he made his way down the corridor. Finally inside, he leaned his head against the wall, savouring the coolness and fighting down the surging emotions. You couldn't suppress that hard for that long without there being consequences. He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open again, scrambling for the bathroom door. He just about made it inside before he threw up.
2.45am, Monday 17th April
Hywel's eyes widened as Jack opened the door to let him in. "God, Jack, what happened?"
"I'm fine. Or I'll be fine. Or something like it." Tightening the belt of his bathrobe, Jack waved Hywel into the chair as he sank back onto the bed. "How'd you get on?"
"Great! It went like a dream." Hywel tipped his head back, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Offered me a chance to get my money back, laid it all out nice and clearly."
"They gave you the drug?"
"Yup." Hywel sat up, turning his bright smile towards Jack. "The stuff they gave me? I think it was stronger than what Vanessa gave you. I feel great. Amazing."
"Really?" The enthusiasm was catching and, despite his weariness, Jack found himself smiling back.
"There's so much to it," Hywel said, sitting forwards and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Starting with what you showed me but going further, reaching out."
"How far?"
"I don't know," Hywel admitted. "But it was like I was suddenly aware of everything around me, like it was all in my head somehow. I could feel everything, sense everything."
Jack leaned against the pillows, letting Hywel talk and watching the young man's hands dance in the air. That was the problem with telepathy, he reflected. Speech hadn't quite found a way to describe it yet. Abruptly, Hywel stopped talking and Jack dragged his full attention back to the conversation.
"Sorry," he apologised. "It just took a bit out me, that's all."
"What happened?" Hywel asked, moving to sit at the end of the bed by Jack's feet.
"One of your drugged-up friends took a swipe at my mind. I couldn't keep him out indefinitely, so I had to blow my cover, just a little." He waved a hand, trying to dismiss Hywel's worry. "We'll be long gone before it becomes a problem. At the moment, he's just suspicious."
"Right." Hywel caught the waving hand, giving it a small squeeze. "As long as you're okay."
"I'm fine." Gently, Jack pulled his hand away. "But please tell me you have something for me."
"Of course." The sly smile that spread across Hywel's face did little to allay Jack's fears. "It was easy."
"Easy?" Jack repeated, then realisation came. "You took it from one of them, didn't you?"
"Like I said, easy. And I am getting the hang of this." Hywel shifted closer, brushing a hand against Jack's leg and reaching out with his mind. "Let me show you."
"Not right at this moment." Feeling the situation spiralling away from him, Jack shifted his feet and nodded towards the desk. "I know it's boring and traditional, but could you write it down for me?"
"Sure." Not in the least put out, Hywel crossed the room to sit at the desk, pulling a pen and piece of paper towards him. Jack took the chance to swing his legs off the bed, cursing silently. He needed to get back in control now, while he still could, although it was probably too late to do anything about the bathrobe.
When he was done, Hywel turned in the chair, his mind touching Jack's again as he looked him up and down.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "you really do look like someone worked you over."
"Thanks. Looks aren't always deceiving." Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Jack turned towards the door, stretching his back a little. "You're right about the potency of that stuff. The guy nearly took my head off."
Without warning, Jack felt the bed dip and hands rest lightly on his shoulders.
"Let me," Hywel said, half-whispering. "Mam always says I give the best shoulder massages."
"Hywel…" Jack trailed off as strong fingers pressed into his tense muscles, kneading and easing them. It did feel good and, just for a moment, he let himself go, dropping his head to his chest and breathing deeply. He felt Hywel move closer, spreading warmth across his back even as his muscles began to relax for the first time in a week.
Above and behind him, he could hear Hywel's steady breathing and a humming in his mind told him that Hywel was pressing closer there too, strengthening the connection. Before he could object, hands pushed the bathrobe down, fingers digging deep into his skin. In the same moment, the pressure on his mind became more urgent, trying to break through his weak defences.
Jack teetered on the edge, lost in the sensations that were coming from the hands on his shoulders, the feel of Hywel's breath against his scalp and the headiness of their linked minds. Then he steadied himself, fighting the influence of Hywel's emotions which were driving him, reaching into his mind and forcing him onwards. The combination of pleasure, admiration and delight was intoxicating, playing with his senses so that he couldn't seem to focus properly.
Struggling, he began to free himself, untangling his own feelings from Hywel's. The hands on his shoulders tensed, slipping down to his chest and pulling him backwards against the warm body behind him. Jack wanted this so badly; to lose himself in that maelstrom of emotion, just for a moment. But it was too much for his fragile senses and a surge of panic washed through him as Hywel's mind forced itself into his again, overpowering his thoughts and feelings. Pushing forwards, Jack tried to release himself physically and mentally.
As his shields wrapped around his mind, Jack felt a stab of frustration and anger which slammed into the mental walls. He gasped in pain as Hywel tried to force his way in and nails dug into his skin. With a final effort, Jack broke free, tumbling off the bed and landing hard on the floor.
Breathing fast, Jack lay still, trying to work out what the hell had just happened. He looked up, not sure what he expected to see. Hywel was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, his eyes closed and face flushed.
"Hywel?" When there was no answer, Jack got shakily to his feet and crossed the short distance to the bed. "Hywel, are you alright? I didn't mean-"
"Don't." The word wasn't much more than a whisper. "Jack, I..." Hywel trailed off, finally opening his eyes and looking up into Jack's worried face. "I thought I felt..."
"You felt it. But there's a time and a place. What you just did-" He broke off, torn by the hurt and guilt he could see in the young man's face. He sighed. "You need to be more careful. Despite what you may have heard, there are some things that I even I don't do. One of them is that I don't ever force it." Tentatively, Jack reached out and brushed a hand against Hywel's cheek. "Another is that I don't take advantage of friends when they're drunk or high."
"Just your friends?" There was a glimmer of amusement in Hywel's voice.
"If they're enemies, I probably got them drunk in the first place." Jack managed to smile, sitting gingerly on the bed. His head still ached from the double battering he'd taken and he winced "You're stronger than you look, you know."
Hywel flushed deeper red, dropping his eyes to the coverlet. "I'm so sorry."
"It's alright."
"Thanks." Turning his head, Hywel looked up at him. "So does that mean when I'm not high…"
As he smiled weakly, Jack's mind ran through all the possible answers. It didn't take very long and none of them were good. Apparently Hywel must have sensed this too, because he uncurled his legs and stood up.
"I should go."
"You need to get some sleep." A glance at the clock told Jack it was nearly three in the morning. "We both need some rest."
"Yeah." Hywel stared at his feet for a moment, then turned to face Jack again. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Hopefully we'll be out of here tomorrow." Jack smiled. "You did well tonight."
"Yeah," Hywel said again, turning back and heading for the door. "Good night, Jack."
Jack sat motionless for a long time after Hywel was gone, staring at nothing. Once, his eyes flicked towards the phone, trying to calculate the time-difference to Cardiff, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. What would he say to Hugh now? What was Hywel going to say to Hugh? Right at this moment, he couldn't see any way out of this one.
And so he lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling and letting his mind drift again. There was no point searching for answers that weren't there and he had hours before he could do anything. It was going to be another long night.
6pm, Monday 17th April
The café was useful. Quiet, out of the way and with a very uninquisitive waitress. The ludicrously big tips probably helped.
Jack slid the piece of paper over the table this time. With any luck, he'd be out of this town in twenty-four hours and his cover was probably in tatters anyway.
"You're good to go," he told Brian with a grim smile. "Take 'em out whenever you want."
"Thanks." Brian glanced at his watch. "It'll take me an hour or so to throw something together and probably another hour to actually get moving."
"That's going to make it half-eight, more or less, when you hit the place. I'll give you another hour, just to be sure, then we're on the next plane out of here."
"What about the girl?"
Jack shrugged. "I think she'll have to come. She knows too much about us, about everything, at this point."
"She's going to make it out alive?" Brian raised an eyebrow. "I thought you spooks considered people like her disposable."
"I'm not a spook," Jack said, ignoring the other man's scepticism, "and no-one's disposable."
"Whatever you say." Brian put the piece of paper away in a pocket, drained his coffee and got to his feet. "See you when you're next in town."
Feeling some of the tension lift from his shoulders, Jack grinned. "Only if I want you to."
10.15pm, Monday 17th April
Back at the hotel, he finished throwing the last of his clothes into the suitcase and picked up the phone to call Hywel. There was no answer.
Jack glanced at his watch. The FBI would be well on their way by now and Hywel should have been in his room, packing up. Concern crept into the back of his mind as he hung up and dialled Vanessa's number instead. Hywel might have gone to check on her. There was no answer there, either
He put the phone down, thinking fast. Maybe they were down in the casino, playing one last game as an attempt to ward off suspicion. Shedding the leather jacket, he retrieved his suit and a white shirt. At least he'd blend in a bit better in black tie. Changing quickly, he was just about ready to go when the phone rang. Relief flooded through him as he picked it up.
"Hywel?"
"Jack?"
"Brian?" Jack sat down on the bed. "What is it?"
"The address you gave us? It's empty."
"What?"
"One of our guys went to do some advance surveillance. Looks like they were there but cleared out in a hurry, probably earlier today."
Jack swore. "They knew we were coming."
"How?" Even down the phone, Jack could hear Brian's frustration. He closed his eyes.
"I don't know where Hywel is."
This time, Brian swore. "Do you think-"
"Yes." Reaching into a pocket, Jack pulled out a pen. "Give me a number I can reach you on. I'll call you when I know something. Be ready to go when I tell you."
"We'll be going in blind," Brian protested.
"I don't care. Wherever it is, they've probably got Hywel there too. Now give me the damn number."
Brian did so and Jack scribbled it on the back of his hand then cut the call without saying goodbye. Dialling Reception, he asked for room service and placed an order. There was no time to think, not now. He'd waited long enough.
Pulling his suitcase towards him, he tipped it over, emptying the contents onto the bed and groping around inside it for a moment. His fingers finally found the catch and he lifted the false bottom up, smiling grimly as he surveyed the contents. Maybe he was more of a spook than he thought.
The Webley fitted easily into its holster under his left arm and the small canister went into the right pocket of his jacket. After a moment's consideration, he also took what looked like a tiny screwdriver, slipping into his breast pocket. Finally, he pulled a bow tie from the pile of clothes and nodded to himself. It wasn't great, but it would have to do.
Apparently the bar staff had told room service about the generous tipping from the guy in room 274, because his order arrived in double quick time. He lived up to his reputation, handing the waiter a couple of notes and taking the bottle of whisky into the bathroom. Unscrewing the cap, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and grinned. It was an old trick, but a good one.
Five minutes later, Jack Harkness staggered along one of the hotel corridors, a half-empty bottle of whisky in his hand, apparently having poured the rest of it down his throat. He was a happy drunk, giving other guests a big smile as they passed and singing snatches of songs in a loud, tuneless voice.
He eventually came to a wobbly stop at room 128, grinning up at the man standing in front of the door. Despite the suit and tie, he might as well have been wearing a sign saying 'Guard Dog'.
"I'm goin' in there." Jack gestured with the whisky bottle.
Guard Dog shook his head. "Not tonight you're not."
"Yessiam," Jack said with blurry indignation. "Gotta booking."
"Not tonight," Guard Dog repeated.
"Awwww, please?" Coming closer, Jack put a friendly hand on the man's lapel, still waving the bottle with the other. "Jus' this once?" He batted his eyelashes.
"Why don't you go back to your room and sleep it off?" Guard Dog brought a hand up to lift Jack's off of him, making Jack stumble and flail for balance. The hand with the whisky bottle came round, landing on the man's shoulder as Jack tried to hold himself up. As the guard's other hand reached out to support him, Jack shifted, releasing his grip on the bottle and letting it drop to the thick carpet. His hands closed on the man's throat, thumbs pressing into the arteries. Jack pushed hard, pressing them both into the wall to stifle the struggling. It took some force to knock someone out like that and Jack held on long enough that his victim wouldn't wake up the minute he let go.
Lowering the unconscious man to the floor, Jack retrieved the whisky bottle and used it to thump at the door. He had to act quickly if he was going to avoid witnesses.
Another man in a suit opened the door, obviously puzzled at who would be knocking. He was at least a head taller than Guard Dog and Jack instantly labelled him Bruiser.
"I'm here to see Vanessa," he said, still wearing the smile of the pleasantly inebriated.
Bruiser's eyes travelled down from Jack's unfocussed eyes to the dangling bottle then on to his fallen colleague.
"What-" The next thing he saw was a miniature aerosol which seemed to have appeared by magic in Jack's free hand.
"Goodnight," Jack said, holding his breath as he pressed the trigger. He made no attempt to catch the man this time, turning back and hauling Guard Dog's body into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
Vanessa was lying on the bed, still in her day clothes of black trousers and a white shirt. It was strange, Jack realised as he went across to her, to see her out of evening dress. Her hands had been bound behind her and a blindfold covered her eyes.
She shrank away as Jack touched her shoulder.
"It's alright," he soothed. "It's me."
"Jack?" She was almost sobbing as he freed her hands and undid the blindfold, helping her to sit up.
"It's alright," he said again, taking hold of her shoulders and turning her so he could see her face. "Are you okay?"
She shrugged shakily. "They didn't hurt me. Oh, Jack!" She broke down again. "They took Hywel!"
"I know." He let her fall against him, feeling her trembling in his arms. When the worst had subsided, he sat back again and cupped her face in his hands. "Vanessa, I need to know where they took him."
"I don't know. The first thing they did was blindfold us. Even with the drug, I need a line of sight to get more than just vague feelings."
"That's fine," Jack said, moving one hand to stroke her hair. "But you've got line of sight now. And I'm betting one of those guys knows where they've gone." He tipped his head towards the unconscious bodies lying by the door.
"I can't." She tried to pull away, but Jack didn't let go, forcing her to look at him.
"You have to. Because I don't have time for anything else." Despite the gentleness of his tone, she must have seen something in his eyes because she bit her lip, looking away. "We have to find Hywel," Jack went on. "I need you to do this for me."
At last, she nodded and he released her, going over and pulling Guard Dog into something resembling a sitting position.
"Do you need him awake?" Jack asked and Vanessa nodded. "Come over here then. Bring the rope."
Once the man's wrists were securely tied together, Jack sat back on his heels, watching Vanessa. She hadn't spoken and her face was a mask of fear. "Ready?" Jack asked, not waiting for an answer before reaching out and slapping Guard Dog's face a few times.
"Come on," he murmured, patting and pinching the man's cheek. "You're tougher than that."
Guard Dog flinched suddenly, drawing in a deep breath. Vanessa reached out, replacing Jack's hand with hers. "Where's Hywel?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in concentration. "Where did they take him? Tell me!" The man jumped, trying to bring his bound hands up to ward her off but Jack grabbed the rope, yanking them back down.
"Not yet," he growled. "Where did they take the kid? Where?"
"He's fighting me," Vanessa said, her voice strained. "He's too strong."
"Give me your hand," Jack said, holding his out. "Let me help you."
"How?"
"Give me your hand." Bracing himself, Jack let her tentative touch pass through his shields as he followed the connection back. She gasped.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting what we need." Eyes closed, Jack gritted his teeth. "Work with me or you're going to get hurt."
He pushed all the way into her mind, ignoring her yelp of protest. With barely a pause, he forced his way onwards, using her mind as a bridge. The grip on his hand tightened as he stripped away any defences he encountered. It was hard work and Guard Dog – Hal, as Jack now knew – was breathing hard, grunting with pain and the effort of fighting back. But he was no match for Jack's determination or experience.
Not caring about damage limitation for any of them, Jack reached deep into himself, focussing on what he wanted to know, visualising it and shaping it so that he could see it almost as a physical object. He realised that, unconsciously, he'd formed it into the mental image of a bullet. Time to pull the trigger.
There was an audible thud which Jack guessed was Hal's head hitting the wall. Right now, he didn't care. The concentrated attack had given him what he needed and more. Opening his eyes, he gently untangled his fingers from Vanessa's, letting the new information settle into his mind. The girl was leaning against the wall, her head on Hal's shoulder and her eyes closed. There was blood running from Hal's nose and, Jack realised as something warm touched his lips, his own. He staunched it with his bowtie then lifted Vanessa's chin to check she was still there. Apart from the extreme whiteness of her face, she seemed fine, just exhausted.
He left her sitting there, staggering a little as he got to his feet and made his way over to the phone. Brian answered on the second ring.
"I've got the address," Jack said, without preamble. "Got a pen?"
He recited it, listening to Brian confer with someone then say, "Okay, we're all set to go."
"Send someone via the hotel. Back entrance."
"You're coming?" Brian's voice was sceptical. "You sound pretty out of it."
"They've got Hywel," Jack said, his tone allowing no argument. "Send a car."
Dropping the receiver, Jack headed into the bathroom, splashing water on his face and dropping the wreckage of his tie into the bin. When he came out, Vanessa was sitting up, her face still pale but her eyes open. She shrank away as he came towards her.
"You used me," she said.
"I had to. Can you stand?" Not waiting for her to answer, Jack reached down and pulled her to her feet. She leant heavily on him but didn't fall.
"Will they live?" she asked as Jack helped her over the recumbent bodies.
"The knockout gas was meant for Weevils, but it shouldn't kill him."
"And the other? Will he be alright?"
"Probably." Finally getting the door open, Jack pulled her out behind him. "We have to get out of here. Now."
He half-carried her down the stairs, glad he'd taken the time to plan the escape routes when he'd first arrived in Vegas two weeks ago. It took barely ten minutes to get through the staff wing to the back door and the car was already waiting for them. Jack pushed Vanessa into the back and climbed in behind her, pulling the door shut.
"How long?" he asked the driver.
"Twenty minutes. It's downtown."
"Right."
Jack sat back in his seat, aware of Vanessa's eyes on him. They drove in silence for a long time, Jack staring out of the window as the neon signs passed in a blur.
As the lights of the strip faded away, Vanessa stirred herself.
"What did you do?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the engine. Jack didn't turn to her.
"Something I was taught," he said. "When you need something and there's no other way."
"You hurt him."
"Better him than Hywel." Turning at last, he met her gaze. "And don't tell me that he means nothing to you." She coloured, the first sign of life since they'd made their escape. Despite himself, despite the knot in his stomach and the buzzing in his head, Jack smiled. "It's like that, is it?"
"I don't…" She looked away, cheeks flushed. But there was something in her face, something in the way her eyes had flashed.
"He came to you last night, didn't he?" Jack said softly. "He was upset, hurting. He needed someone to comfort him, someone to understand without words being used. And so he came to you."
"Yes." There was a challenge in the word, which Jack ignored. Instead, he nodded to himself.
"Explains why he avoided me all day."
"That's not why," Vanessa said quickly. "He told me, showed me what happened." Finally turning to face him, she went on, "He adores you. You know that. He was so guilty, so ashamed."
Jack closed his eyes. "You know," he said in a conversational tone, "ménages á trois are rarely easy, but this is messy even by my standards."
Before Vanessa could reply, the car came to a sudden stop.
"We're here," the driver announced.
As Jack was getting out of the car, Vanessa put a hand on his arm. "I'm coming with you. You might need me."
Jack hesitated for a moment, then nodded, taking her hand and helping her out. "Stay close to somebody," he said, "preferably somebody with a gun." He pulled his own from his pocket as they made their way towards the gaggle of FBI agents.
Brian came over to meet them. "They're in there," he said, pointing to the building. "We've got a perimeter set up so nothing gets out."
"Tell them to blindfold anyone they arrest," Jack said, with a glance at Vanessa. "The mind reading works on line of sight."
"Got it." Brian gestured to another agent, passing on the order then turning back to Jack. "We're ready."
The building, long since abandoned, looked as thought it had once been an apartment block. Which meant, Jack thought as they made their way round the side, long corridors, lots of locked doors and lots of rooms in which to hide. Perfect.
He joined the group gathered at the side door.
"Looks pretty solid. We're going to need the ram round here," one of them said and Jack smiled.
"Allow me." He pulled the tiny screwdriver from his pocket, pushing it into the lock. "It's intelligent metal," he explained. "It takes the shape of the lock and- ah." With a flourish, he turned the handle and swung the door open.
Everyone hit the deck as gun fire rang out, shattering the quiet. Jack crawled to the cover of the wall, making sure Vanessa was still with him and lifting his head to check on the others. As he helped Vanessa to her feet, he caught Brian's eye. The agent was hugging the wall on the opposite side of the doorway to Jack. Seeing Jack's nod, he returned it.
There was a momentary break in the gun fire and Jack used it to throw himself round the corner, still staying close to the wall inside. He was in a corridor leading to a t-junction and the shots had come from both directions. Brian gave cover as Jack made his way forwards, deciding to take the right hand turn first. He was running now, knowing that the defenders would pull themselves together quickly and he was a sitting duck without something to hide behind.
Barrelling round the corner, he barely had time to register the surprise on the faces of the men there. He took two of them down with him, rolling over and using one of the limp bodies as a shield as more shots echoed in the narrow space. They'd be hard to hit down here, he knew, but he didn't need to take any more chances. His eyes were more or less adjusted to the gloom now and the body on top of him wasn't fighting back. He pushed it off, rising to his feet and catching the next man in the face with the handle of his gun.
More shots rang out and he grabbed the dazed man by the shoulders, another human shield as he fired back down the corridor. There was shouting, then the rest of the agents came flooding into the building, making the defenders retreat, still firing the occasional shot.
Jack ignored them, twisting the man in his arms, slamming him against the wall and pressing the barrel of the Webley under his chin.
"Where's the kid? Where did they take him?"
His eyes rolling back in his head, the man lifted a shaking hand, pointing down the corridor to Jack's left.
"Downstairs," he whispered, whimpering as Jack let him go.
Brian reached them as the terrified man slid down the wall to the floor.
"Where?"
"Basement."
Yelling over his shoulder, Brian followed Jack along the corridor. Jack's heart was racing but he forced himself to concentrate. He held the gun in front of him, pausing and checking round each corner before bringing the weapon up again. The familiar, ingrained routine helped to settle him, giving him something to think about other than the hundred scenarios running through his mind.
The door to the basement was at the far end of the building and by the time Jack got there, most of the other agents had caught up with him and Brian. He put a finger to his lips and carefully pulled it open.
There was no immediate reaction, so Jack took a few cautious steps, gesturing for the others to wait at the top. It was even dingier down here, with long fluorescent strips providing garish yellow light. The floor was damp, water running down the walls and along the pipes above Jack's head. At the bottom of the stairs, he checked the corridor in each direction before giving the all clear.
He and Brian went left, following the narrow corridor. Despite the obvious water leakage, Jack noticed that the place was otherwise in good repair. Most of the pipes were intact and all the lights were working. This was somewhere they used regularly.
Jack was becoming sure they'd been lied to and that they were going to have to search the whole building. Turning the corner, his doubts were put to rest and he reacted instinctively, throwing himself backwards and knocking Brian over so that the bullets passed over their heads.
"I think we found them," he said, as they disentangled themselves.
"What makes you say that?" Brian replied, picking up his gun and grinning.
"I'm sensitive that way." They exchanged the same nod as before, waiting for the noise of the shots to die away before taking the corner at a run. Brian stopped after a few steps to give better cover, while Jack kept going. The first of the shooters was so startled that he fell over his own feet, sprawling on the floor. Jack ignored him, lifting his gun as the second man tried to take aim.
"Don't do it!" he yelled, hoping that the sound would be enough. Apparently it wasn't and Jack fired reflexively, catching the man in the throat more by fluke than intention. He knelt over the man's body as Brian raced past, checking doors and rooms as he went.
Further away, Jack could hear shouts as the others closed in on them. His victim (his attacker? It was all a bit blurred now) was clutching his neck, blood running between his fingers. Knowing there was nothing he could do, Jack turned his attention to the other fallen man, who'd made no attempt to get away.
"Where'd they go?" Jack asked, pulling him to his feet. "They've cleared out, I'll bet. All the bosses will be long gone by now. Where did they go? Did they take the kid?"
The man shook his head, fear in his eyes. Shifting his grip, Jack pushed him hard against the wall, holding him in place.
"Vanessa!" he yelled, loud enough to make his prisoner flinch. Jack stepped in closer, pressing the man between his body and the wall. "Either you tell me or I will take it from you," he said, his voice low, "and believe me, it will hurt."
"Jack!" The shout came from further down the corridor in the direction Brian had taken. Then there was another voice, one he didn't recognise, with words that made his blood run cold.
"Get an ambulance."
Turning back, Jack saw Vanessa hurrying down the corridor towards him and he knew her panic was mirrored on his own face. He nodded to her.
"Get in there," he said, waiting until someone relieved him of his prisoner to follow. Shoving his gun into a pocket, he walked slowly to the corner, pausing when he saw the open door. He could hear voices, shouting and muttering; someone was counting to five, pausing, then counting again.
Time stopped. Jack's feet dragged as he tried to move forwards, fear making them almost too heavy to lift. The air felt thick and humid and his face was suddenly drenched in sweat. After an unbearable age, he reached the doorway, wrapping a hand around the frame and pulling himself into the room.
Time came rushing back as Vanessa began to scream.
Now
Jack had no idea how much of the drug would be too much. However human he was, he wasn't a human from this place and Time Agency training had altered his mind along with the rest of him. Just to be sure, he filled the syringe completely, barely pausing to check for air bubbles before ramming the needle into his arm.
The world didn't explode, although his skin burned at the site of the injection, a cold heat that was spreading through his veins. While he still could, Jack turned and went back to Hywel, sitting on the floor and pulling the younger man into his arms. He felt numb in mind and body, unable to do anything but focus on the single, crucial word: live.
The world exploded.
Whenever he returned, whenever he sucked air back into his empty lungs and felt his heart start to beat again, Jack always found it difficult to remember what it had been like. This place, somewhere between life and death, held him and surrounded him, filling his mind and soul with golden light. Normally, he came here unwillingly and violently, resting in the soothing peace until the darkness claimed him again. This time though, he was here through his own choice.
He was still aware of his body, its heavy weight tying him to his purpose. Then he realised it wasn't his own weight he could feel but Hywel's. He wasn't seeking healing and relief; he'd come here to make a demand.
"Send him back!" he shouted, his words muffled and deadened by the cocoon of light. "Use me! Do whatever the hell it is you do and send him back."
He tightened his grip on the body in his arms as he felt the darkness pulling at the edges of his awareness. If it was taking him, it would take Hywel as well. Something plucked at him, trying to draw him away and he shook his head, pressing his face into Hywel's hair. He had no idea if this was happening at the physical level as well as the psychic one, but right now it felt so real that he didn't care.
"If you're taking one of us, you're taking both of us," he said, feeling the impatience grow in the light-mind around him. He was inside its awareness, just as it was inside his, so it had to know that he wouldn't give up Hywel without a fight. He wouldn't give Hywel up at all.
There was a definite edge to the light now, a frustration that Jack wouldn't co-operate as he usually did, that the drug he'd injected himself with was giving him the strength to fight back. It didn't matter that whatever it was that had hold of him probably had enough power to blast both him and Hywel out of existence without noticing. He'd gone back time and time again, sacrificing the peace that he found here to humour whatever whim this higher power had for him. This time, he wasn't going back alone.
As though sensing this, Jack felt the light seeping around him, trying to break his connection to Hywel. He clung on harder, but couldn't pull the limp body any closer than it already was. The light-mind was being gentle, trying to save Jack without letting him risk himself further. It wanted him to let go, to release the dead body and return to where he should be. He had to make it understand. It had to know what this meant to him.
As a last, desperate attempt, he focussed on reaching out with his mind, wrapping it around Hywel's and letting their consciousnesses blend together. He dropped all his defences, not holding back any part of himself as he felt Hywel's mind touch his. The tiny, almost imperceptible stir of awareness was all the encouragement he needed and he pushed on.
There was a sense of hesitation, fleeting enough that Jack was sure he'd imagined it, then he felt the light wrap around them both, binding them even more closely until he no longer knew which thought was his and which was Hywel's. It didn't matter. As the light burst into greater brightness around him, replaced by the familiar darkness, he finally surrendered to it, letting it carry them both away.
Later
Jack ached. He was lying flat on his back on something cold and hard. A heavy weight was bearing down on his chest and something hard was pressed into his shoulder, right on the nerve. Then the weight began to move. He gripped it tightly, knowing that this was what he needed to do. He mustn't let go.
"Jack. Jack, it's alright." Someone was pulling at his arm, gripping his other shoulder. "You can let go now. You're both safe. It's going to be alright."
Foggily, Jack recognised Brian's voice, remembered where he was. The weight in his arms was Hywel, warm against Jack's chest and shifting in his embrace he breathed steadily in and out. He was breathing. Jack carefully released his grip, feeling the weight lifted from him.
"Jack!" Someone – Brian, he assumed – patted his cheek, shook him by the shoulder. "Stay with me Jack." But Jack was already gone, slipping back into the darkness.
When he woke up again, he was still lying on his back, but this time the surface beneath him was soft and warm. He shifted a little, hearing bed springs squeak and feeling something scratchy against his bare arms, probably a blanket. Someone must have taken his shirt off and, he realised as he wiggled his toes, his shoes as well.
"Back in the land of the living, are we?"
Jack blinked his eyes open, managing to focus on the source of the voice. Brian was sitting on an upright chair in the corner of the room. It was daytime, judging by the light streaming through the thin curtains, and the room was sparsely furnished. The agent watched as Jack gradually struggled upright, swinging his legs off the bed and waiting for the dizziness to pass.
"You're in one of our safe houses," he said in answer to Jack's questioning look. "Hywel's next door, sleeping. He's going to be fine." Brian shook his head. "I don't know how the hell you did it, but he's going to be fine. He asks about you every time he wakes up."
"How long?" Jack asked, coughing as his voice cracked.
"There's water on the table," Brian said before answering. "About twelve hours. You were well away. Let's see, what else do you need to know?" He sat back in his chair, smiling a little. "We caught some of the couriers and retrieved enough of the drug to make the lab boys extremely excited. Most of the big guys got away though. They'll be safely back in their casinos and offices, acting like the whole thing's got nothing to do with them."
"We'll get them," Jack promised and Brian nodded.
"I'm sure you will. We've got two guys in hospital with gunshot wounds and two more with really nasty headaches, but nothing more serious than that."
"Good work." Carefully, Jack got to his feet, looking around for his shirt. "I'm going to see Hywel."
"Like I said, he's next door." The shirt was on the back of Brian's chair and he passed it over. "He's still pretty groggy. I'm not sure how much sense you'll get out of him."
"Doesn't matter."
"I guess not." Brian watched him critically as he sat down to put his shoes on. "Jack, what happened in there? He was dead."
"You're sure about that?" Stalling the other man's protests, Jack went on, "No, seriously. It can be deceptive sometimes, just how far gone a person is. Sure, he was out of it-"
"He was dead, Jack," Brian said flatly. "I'm no doctor, but even I know that if a person's got no pulse, they're pretty much dead. And then you did something that damn near killed you too. What happened?"
Jack hesitated. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I did what I had to, to get him back. I can't tell you more than that, I swear."
"Right." There was nothing in Brian's tone to indicate that he believed a word Jack had said, but he didn't get up as Jack headed for the door.
Hywel's room was similar to Jack's, reflecting the classic FBI safehouse design. The carpet was thin and worn, the bed narrow and the frame battered, and the only other furniture was a large, fraying armchair that had been dragged over to the window. Hywel was sitting in it, apparently fascinated by the view. He didn't look round as Jack came in.
Jack coughed, looking round. "I love what they've done with the place."
"Well, we can't all have your exquisite taste." Turning in the chair, Hywel gave Jack a weak smile. "Welcome back."
"Same to you." Jack made his way over to the bed, sitting so that he could see Hywel's face better. "How are you feeling?"
"I have no idea." Before Jack could reply, Hywel went on, "I can't seem to think at all. Can't seem to feel anything."
"It's shock," Jack said, as though he knew what he was talking about. "It'll pass."
"I've been remembering things," Hywel said. "I've been remembering things that I've never seen. And I've got this song stuck in my head. I can't stop singing it and I don't even understand the words."
"Happens to me all the time. Sometimes I've got no idea what they're talking about. There's this one about-"
"No, I mean, they're not in English. Or Welsh. Or any other language that I've ever heard." He frowned, then hummed a few notes. Jack's breath caught in his throat as Hywel sang a couple of bars, forehead creased in concentration. "What is it?" he asked.
Jack swallowed hard before answering. "It's a Venusian lullaby."
"Venusian?"
"As in Venus. The planet?"
Hywel's eyes widened. "You've been to Venus?"
"Not personally. It was taught to me." Jack faltered for a moment. "It was taught to me by an old friend."
"How does it go? All the way through, I mean."
Closing his eyes, Jack tried to remember. Of all the things to stick in Hywel's mind, it would have to be something like this. He hummed the notes, just as Hywel had, trying to remember all the words. The Doctor had sung it to him, trying to illustrate some point or other, and Jack had been intrigued enough to look the rest of it up for himself. The mixture of comfort and humour in the short song had stayed with him. Uncertainly at first, then with growing confidence, he began to sing.
Halfway through the second chorus, he broke off, startled. The memory that had floated to the top of his mind hadn't been the Doctor or Rose or even his own family, such a long way away now. Instead, it had been of Marion and Hugh, looking down and smiling at him. The memory wasn't his.
Seeing the concern on Hywel's face, Jack forced himself to smile.
"I think we're both going to be a bit confused for a few days."
"It'll wear off, then?"
Jack couldn't tell whether the question was hopeful or disappointed.
"It's bound to," he said, hoping he was right. "Anything that shouldn't be in there will gradually fade away."
"Oh."
Definitely disappointed, Jack decided. "Look on the bright side," he said, "it'll be a lot less confusing."
"No," Hywel replied, his voice flat, "it won't."
"Hywel..."
"I know, Jack. I know everything." There was no triumph in the statement, only the weariness that Jack recognised as his own. "I know everything," Hywel repeated. "What you think, what you felt, what you did. Everything."
"I know, Hywel."
"And you're still treating me like I'm a child!" Anger and frustration crept into Hywel's voice. "When I know-" he broke off, shaking his head. "You don't have to protect me, Jack. I knew what I was getting into."
"That's more than I did," Jack said. "Hywel, what we do is dangerous. It's scary, it's exciting and it's overwhelming sometimes. You know that. Torchwood isn't something you do, it's what you are. And it's confusing too. If you've got it all sorted, then great, I'm happy for you. I'll be confused enough for both of us."
Hywel laughed, suddenly, and Jack could hear Hugh, laughing at him down the phone from thousands of miles away. His heart lurched.
"You know, this isn't all about you, Jack," Hywel said when he'd got his breath back. "Some of it might actually be about me, believe it or not."
Even Jack had to smile at that. "You did well. You should be proud of yourself."
"I nearly got myself killed. Vanessa too. Have you seen her?"
"Not yet." Jack realised with a pang of guilt that he hadn't even asked.
"She came to see me earlier," Hywel said. "I said I'd take her back to Cardiff with me, if she wanted. Vegas isn't exactly going to be safe for her anymore."
"And it's a new recruit for Torchwood," Jack said thoughtfully. "Your dad will be delighted."
"Can we leave my father out of this, just for now?" Hywel asked, wincing. "There's still some stuff..."
"Sorry." Jack got to his feet. "I should let you rest."
"No, Jack, it's alright. I didn't mean-" Hywel broke off, shaking his head. "You don't have to go."
"It's not going to get any less confusing if I stay," Jack said softly. "I'll come by later on, if that's alright." When there was no reply, he smiled sadly and put a hand on Hywel's shoulder. "It'll be alright, I promise. Just…let it go."
"And if I don't want to?" Hywel looked up at him, eyes wide and shining. Momentarily thrown, Jack squeezed his shoulder, forcing himself to keep the smile in place as Hywel brought a hand up to cover his.
"These things pass, Hywel. I'll be back later."
He left Hywel slumped in the chair, still staring out of the window as he made his way to the door. Just leave, he kept telling himself. Just walk through the door and leave. He actually had his hand on the handle when Hywel called his name, barely loud enough to be heard. Jack turned.
Hywel was standing, one hand on the back of the chair for support. With his back to the light, it was hard to make out any expression on his face but his free hand was held out towards Jack. Waiting for him.
"Stay."