Fic: Reign of Scars; 3/15 [PG-13] TW/HL/DW crossover. Fix!it Big Bang
Title: Reign of Scars
Author: aeron_lanart
Beta: idontlikegravy
Artist: idontlikegravy - Art!.
Fandom(s): Highlander/Torchwood/Doctor Who (part of the Mystery Verse, my existing AU)
Characters/pairing: Gwen/Rhys, Siannon O'Niall (OFC) and Richie Ryan, with appearances from lots of other Torchwood and Doctor Who characters (both Classic and New Who).
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/teen. The only warnings are for language and angst, as it is a post Children of Earth story in the Torchwood scheme of things and the outcome of CoE is NOT the thing that's being fixed in this fic. Miracle Day is ignored in this verse. This is the direct sequel to Shattered in Aspect and includes some dialogue from that fic as part of it takes place in the same time period.
Disclaimer: The BBC/RTD own the Torchwood/Who universe and its characters. Panzer/Davis Productions own the Highlander universe and its characters. I own the OCs.
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made. Title and quote from the song of the same name by Pro-Jekt.
Summary: The Torchwood Hub is a hole in the ground, Jack Harkness has fled with no-one any the wiser as to his whereabouts and Gwen is dealing with an unplanned pregnancy. However, while she still stands, there's a chance Torchwood could rise from the ashes of its destruction even though the road ahead is hidden in the shadows. This is the story of what happened to Torchwood in this verse during the 6 months at the end of Children of Earth, after the 456 and the destruction of The Hub, while Jack and Methos were wandering the world.
A/N:
Written for Fix-it Big Bang fixitstory. Please go here to see the lovely art.
Can also be read at AO3.
~*~
2
*
Gwen stared sightless at the computer screen in front of her, eyes too full of tears to make out much beyond the predominant blue colour of the Torchwood screen saver.
"I can’t do this," she said, her voice almost unrecognisable to her ears. "The funeral was bad enough but this… this is like cutting the last piece of him out of existence. It’s too final."
"What happened after Owen and Tosh? Who logged them out?" Siannon asked. Gwen sniffed, and ran her hands over her face, knuckling the tears from her eyes.
"Who do you think?"
"Ah."
"I never envied Ianto this part of his job, tying up loose ends in the wake of destruction - especially when those loose ends were people. And here I am, having to do just that. I don’t think I’ve got the strength."
"Now that I don’t believe for one minute, and I know that Rhys would agree with me. You are one of the strongest people I know, Gwen, or we wouldn’t be sitting here trying to carry on."
"I don’t feel very strong at the moment."
"Neither do I."
"We make a right pair." Gwen turned back to the computer with an air of determination, but her fingers faltered over the keys. "It’s no good, I really can't do this." The swirling patterns on the screen seemed to mock her as she turned away to find Siannon gazing thoughtfully at her. "What?"
"I have full access, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Then give me a little while and I’ll do it." Siannon scrambled off the floor - she seemed to prefer the cushions and bean bags to the couch and chairs - and headed out of the room.
"Siannon?" Gwen called out in query after the retreating figure. There was no answer, but there was the distinct clink and clatter of glassware from the direction of the kitchen. She reappeared with an almost full bottle of what looked like whisky and a couple of glasses, setting them down on the low table near the desk. Gwen noticed that the green eyes were suspiciously bright, as if Siannon too was having trouble holding back her tears. It wasn’t a surprise, Siannon and Ianto had become close friends since she’d first appeared in their lives and his loss had hit her just as hard as it had hit Gwen, despite not being an official part of the Torchwood team.
"I’ll do it, but I can’t do it stone cold sober." Siannon explained as she hefted the bottle, pausing before she poured. "Deal?" It sounded like a bloody good idea to Gwen and she nodded. She knew she shouldn’t really *be* drinking, not with the baby on the way, and Rhys would probably give her hell for it but given the circumstances she thought he’d understand.
"Deal. I’ll let Rhys know I might not make it back."
"You do realise he’ll be round to check up on you?"
Gwen shrugged. "He can join in; he misses Ianto too. Then we can walk each other home…"
In the end Gwen didn’t really need Rhys’ supporting arm around her on the way home because she was drunk - Siannon had done enough drinking for all three of them and then some - but she needed it all the same. She was ridiculously glad she had Rhys and even though she’d felt guilty for leaving Siannon alone, she couldn’t have stayed, no matter what she had intended. After tonight she needed to get away from Torchwood and Rhys was her real escape, just as he always had been. Gwen unsuccessfully tried to avoid the thought that if Jack never came back, Siannon would more than likely be doing the same for her as she had done for Ianto tonight, and it struck her that the ones who died - the ones who never got to say goodbye - were actually the lucky ones. Rhys held her tight as she cried herself to sleep, staying mercifully silent.
*
Siannon leant on the railing and watched the sun descend in its fiery, temporary death over Cardiff, turning the water of the Bay a molten bronze. Tomorrow would be a new dawn in more than one way. Gwen was silent beside her, lost in her thoughts for the time being; Siannon was grateful for that as her own were also in a whirl. So far their strange partnership seemed to be working; Gwen was dealing with personnel issues, letting the Powers that Be know that Torchwood might be down - somewhat battered and bruised to say the least - but it certainly wasn't out. She was also putting out careful feelers for other team members and maintaining useful contacts with organisations such as the police, while Siannon dealt with logistics. They needed a home after all, even if it was only a temporary one and Siannon was of the opinion that the best thing for Torchwood Cardiff would be to have the potential for more than one base of operations, something she had more than a few ideas about.
Eventually Gwen found her voice.
"A Warehouse." It wasn't exactly phrased as a question though Siannon could tell there was a question there, as well as a kind of tired inevitability.
"It'll do for now," Siannon replied with determined casualness.
"Won't be the first time we've made do with a warehouse." There was a wistful tone to Gwen's voice, and a hint of the underlying pain that never seemed to be far from the surface these days. Siannon sighed.
"Probably won't be the last either. Useful things, warehouses," she said - pleased when her comment teased a smile out of Gwen; they could both probably stand to smile a little more. Gwen turned to lean her back against the railings, casting her eyes towards the site of the warehouse.
"We're really going to do this, Siannon, aren't we? A new Torchwood."
Siannon glanced up at Gwen. "Did you ever really doubt it?"
"Of course I did! But now... it actually seems possible. It's amazing."
"You're amazing," Siannon said with a smile. "Without you there wouldn't be the possibility of a new Torchwood."
Gwen leaned over and gently punched Siannon on the upper arm.
"We're amazing as I couldn't do it without you."
"OK, we're amazing. I'll give you that." They shared a grin as Gwen moved away to sit on a bench not far away. Siannon glanced back at the sunset, the sun was almost gone now. Impulsively, she closed her eyes and raised her voice in an old song to salute the end of the day only to have it cut short by an unexpected gust of a breeze, a wordless cry from Gwen and a loud splat as something hit the ground behind her. Siannon spun round to find Gwen gazing into the sunset with the hugest grin on her face.
"That was Myfanwy," Gwen said as she walked closer.
"It was? That's brilliant! What did she... oh." Siannon caught sight of the very dead, very fresh fish that had been dropped on the ground. Gwen was still grinning as she poked at the offending fish with a toe.
"I think she was giving us a present."
"That was very thoughtful of her. Now all we've got to do is catch her - again." Neither Siannon nor Gwen had been around when Myfanwy first arrived through the rift, but they had both heard the story - though Siannon was fairly certain that the version she'd had from Ianto was the more accurate, right down to the desperation he'd felt at the time. She bet Gwen had heard Jack's version, which was almost confirmed by Gwen's bright laugh.
"The first job for our Torchwood!"
Siannon grinned in response, Gwen's enthusiasm was infectious. "It is kind of appropriate and it'll be good to have her round the place, despite the mess."
"We could make it part of the selection criteria... Trial by pterodactyl poop."
What made it so funny was the way Gwen managed to keep a completely straight face and Siannon couldn't help but dissolve into giggles at the thought. It did have an element of merit though; anyone who couldn't cope with a relatively tame pterodactyl was unlikely to be able to cope with a weevil or a hoix or any of the other weird and wonderful things that fell through the rift. Still giggling, she followed Gwen back to where they'd left their cars, feeling strangely optimistic about the days ahead rather than overwhelmed like she had been; Myfanwy had always had the ability to make her smile and it seemed that hadn't changed.
*
Operation Myfanwy, as Siannon laughingly referred to it, was made somewhat easier by her discovery that the tracking device that Ianto had insisted on implanting into her - after one too many close calls with irate sheep farmers - was still working. It hadn’t stopped Myfanwy’s penchant for an occasional woolly snack but according to Ianto it had enabled them to be a lot quicker on the uptake that she’d sneaked off for one. Easier however, did not make it easy, tracking device or no.
Siannon's feet pounded down the pavement, her breath coming in hard pants. Although she was trained for both speed and endurance, it was for the less prosaic art of the blade rather than running around late-night Cardiff after a thrice-damned flying dinosaur, and it was bloody hard work chasing down something that didn’t seem to want to be caught. Fortunately for everyone concerned Myfanwy seemed to prefer hunting at night, and as yet there had been no reported sightings from the public; but even so they needed to get her back quickly. Siannon paused in her mad dash for a moment, partly to get her breath back and partly to await further directions from Gwen who was coordinating the whole thing from the relative comfort of the Torchwood warehouse base.
"Three hundred metres on your right," Gwen said over the comms. "She seems to have come to rest; maybe it's her nesting site."
"Roger that," Siannon replied and she could practically hear Gwen's grin at the military term. Maybe she’d been spending too much time with Bambera and the other UNIT liaisons, she shrugged, she could think of worse people with whom to be spending it. Chocolate firmly in hand, Siannon approached the location Gwen had given her; but once she saw the building that Myfanwy had taken residence in she stopped and began laughing. It took several attempts for her to stop laughing long enough to understand that Gwen was trying to say something.
"Siannon? Care to let me in on the joke?"
"Sorry, Gwen. It's just, I think I've found our new HQ," she replied. "The building Myfanwy's nesting in, it's one of my churches. I’d bought it anyway as I knew it would be perfect for me if it didn’t meet Torchwood’s needs but I reckon that if it gets the Myfanwy seal of approval it belongs to Torchwood after all."
Siannon heard Gwen chuckle on the other end of the comms.
"Guess I should come and have a reccie then," she said before signing off.
Siannon looked down at the chocolate in her hands and smiled in relief. Despite her assurances to Gwen, she hadn't been entirely sure that she'd be able to catch Myfanwy on her own. At least now that wouldn't be a problem; one of the advantages of already being the owner of the building concerned was that she happened to have a key, which meant that reaching Myfanwy where she was perched on the roof would be the easiest job of the night. It also meant she would have to start thinking about how to make the old church of St James a home for Torchwood, instead of a home for herself - or another immortal - as she’d planned.
*
With Myfanwy back on board as it were, Siannon began to feel like they were getting somewhere, although she had precious little time to spend on what she felt were Torchwood specific issues as she dealt with trying to make a base out of an old church and bringing herself up to speed with some essential medical training. She found the latter infinitely more difficult - she already had the contacts in place for the church conversion because of her business and many of them were well used to secrecy - hacking into the necessary NHS databases was problematical at times and she found she missed Tosh more than ever. In the meantime, Gwen was left to deal with UNIT and the Torchwood site. They were both thankful that the rift, and Cardiff’s resident Weevil population, remained quiescent.
Siannon felt like she was neck deep in paperwork - both physical and electronic - when Gwen returned from the Bay one evening but when she was given no more than a distracted ‘hi’ she turned around to find Gwen staring thoughtfully into space, clutching a small box tightly to her chest.
"What is it?" Siannon asked gently. Gwen didn’t immediately answer but hugged the box closer making Siannon wonder just what it contained.
"Do you trust UNIT?"
Siannon frowned; it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected to hear.
"I trust Bambera and her immediate team," she said with conviction. "The rest? Probably no further than I could throw them but as they’re all terrified of her they’re kept in line." Gwen loosened her hold on the box, but didn’t let go of it as she came to perch alongside Siannon on the desk.
"What do you think makes Bambera and her team so special?"
Gwen didn't sound like she was just asking for an opinion as far as Siannon was concerned; she sounded like she needed to understand. It seemed the fact that Bambera was special wasn't up for debate, but the reason behind why she was special was of utmost importance. As Siannon had been of the same mind she wasn't surprised that Gwen appeared to feel that way.
"You knew she’d been in contact with Martha?" Siannon asked; Gwen nodded her reply. "Did you know why though?"
"I didn’t ask; I trust Martha. I assumed Bambera wanted a few recommendations of people that might be more sympathetic toward Torchwood."
"That’s true as far as it goes, but I did a little digging and found out it went deeper than that." Siannon tilted her chair back and looked up at Gwen with a smile. The box had found its way to the desk, but Gwen still had one hand resting on it in an almost protective manner. "Do you know her husband’s name?"
"Bambera's? What’s that got to do with anything?" Gwen's face crinkled in a puzzled frown, but she didn't move her hand from the box.
"You’d be surprised," Siannon replied, with a smile and a raised eyebrow. Gwen sighed, folded her arms and half perched on the desk beside the mysterious box.
"So enlighten me then, just who is Winifred Bambera’s husband?" She asked, managing to sound both bored and interested at the same time. Siannon waited for a moment before continuing.
"Ancelyn ap Gwalchmai."
"Gwalchmai. GWALCHMAI?" Gwen's voice rose, but stopped short of becoming a disbelieving shriek - just. "You mean Arthurian Gwalchmai?"
"So it would seem, though not from our universe."
"How the hell did a UNIT Brigadier manage to bump into him?" That was the same question Siannon had initially, but for different reasons; she'd wanted to know if she would be meeting him at swordpoint - or not - in a fight for her head. It turned out not, luckily for her, though the truth of Ancelyn had turned out to be even stranger than immortality. She told Gwen the important part of what she had discovered.
"It was Jack’s Doctor; but not exactly Jack’s Doctor as we know him."
"So what does a time-travelling, face-changing alien have to do with the sons of legendary Arthurian knights?"
"Apparently he’s Merlin - or he will be - in a different universe." Siannon had been reassured by the alternate twist, she'd had trouble equating what she knew about Jack's Doctor, despite his sometimes Machiavellian tendencies, with the version of Merlin she'd heard about in her youth.
"Why am I not surprised? It makes a twisted kind of sense in a way - everything he seems to have a hand in gets complicated to say the least. That explains Bambera; what about the rest of them?"
"Most of them are simply good people, but her two aides… well, Ross Jenkins almost died defending the ATMOS factory from the Sontarans. He didn’t because a certain time-travelling alien had planted a device on him that defused some of the power of the shot that was fired at him, just enough to give him a fighting chance at surviving, which was all he needed."
"That probably made him more loyal to the Doctor than to UNIT, I would have thought."
"Exactly."
"What about Beth Sullivan? I thought her parents were UNIT personnel."
"They were - but they were also both companions of the Doctor at different times."
"How did you find out all of this? None of it is in the databases - official and otherwise - I checked."
"I have to admit I resorted to rather underhand tactics."
"Oh? That sounds very Torchwood of you."
"I thought so too, I was rather pleased with myself."
"So what ‘underhand tactics’ did you use?"
"I asked them nicely."
"You asked them nicely." Gwen didn't sound terribly convinced and Siannon chuckled.
"Uh-huh. Over a couple of very large whiskies…"
"And?"
"It seems that a message had been sent, via Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, that we were to be assisted in any way."
"So that’s who Bambera meant when she said her orders were from a higher authority. I thought she was talking about The Queen."
"Bambera was appointed by The Queen; I have a feeling Elizabeth R might have received a message too."
"Oh that just takes the bloody biscuit, that does. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen when Iant… when we needed him and now he’s condescending to send us messages. Lovely. You know, I don’t think I care any more. The important thing is that Bambera and her team remain willing to help; that’s what we need after all."
"Remain willing?" Siannon queried.
"Yeah. Bambera gave me this today; seems she found it after one of the ‘normal’ UNIT people had passed it by." Gwen picked up the box from the desk and passed it to Siannon, who took it off her somewhat gingerly. It was obviously something important judging by how protective Gwen had been about it, but beyond that Siannon had no idea what might be enclosed, though her brain helpfully threw a few suggestions at her, all wrong as it turned out. She opened the box cautiously to find the coral from Jack’s desk in the Hub nestling inside and obviously wrapped very carefully against damage. Siannon couldn’t help but smile.
"How did they miss this? It isn’t exactly small."
"Now there’s the thing," Gwen said. "Bambera tells me it just appeared out of nowhere when she drew close - ‘phased into existence’ were her exact words - and if you scan it," Gwen demonstrated, "you’ll notice that it’s giving off a ridiculous amount of Rift Energy."
"Which implies it was hiding in the rift, and is sentient." Siannon could have sworn the coral glowed briefly at her words, but she put it down to imagination when Gwen didn’t appear to notice anything. "It explains why Ianto used to wash it in tea occasionally; he obviously knew what it wanted."
"That means he knew what it was, which isn’t really surprising I suppose considering whose desk it lived on." Gwen sighed. "I really miss him, even more than Jack if that’s possible."
"You and me both. We could always go and tell him our good news, you know."
"What?"
"First Myfanwy, now the coral; I think that’s good news and worth sharing. We can go and have a coffee and a chat."
"You’re suggesting we go to Ianto’s grave…"
"With a coffee…"
"And tell him about it?"
"Yup. And Tosh - don't forget she's right there next to him."
"Siannon, you’re brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?"
Siannon didn’t answer that out loud, but she was fairly certain Gwen knew anyway; she’d had no option but to learn how to deal with loss given her life span and sometimes simple things were what enabled a person to cope. She also didn't mention the empty grave - empty that is except for his stethoscope and white coat - that was all they'd been able to give Owen.
*
Chapter Three
Author: aeron_lanart
Beta: idontlikegravy
Artist: idontlikegravy - Art!.
Fandom(s): Highlander/Torchwood/Doctor Who (part of the Mystery Verse, my existing AU)
Characters/pairing: Gwen/Rhys, Siannon O'Niall (OFC) and Richie Ryan, with appearances from lots of other Torchwood and Doctor Who characters (both Classic and New Who).
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/teen. The only warnings are for language and angst, as it is a post Children of Earth story in the Torchwood scheme of things and the outcome of CoE is NOT the thing that's being fixed in this fic. Miracle Day is ignored in this verse. This is the direct sequel to Shattered in Aspect and includes some dialogue from that fic as part of it takes place in the same time period.
Disclaimer: The BBC/RTD own the Torchwood/Who universe and its characters. Panzer/Davis Productions own the Highlander universe and its characters. I own the OCs.
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made. Title and quote from the song of the same name by Pro-Jekt.
Summary: The Torchwood Hub is a hole in the ground, Jack Harkness has fled with no-one any the wiser as to his whereabouts and Gwen is dealing with an unplanned pregnancy. However, while she still stands, there's a chance Torchwood could rise from the ashes of its destruction even though the road ahead is hidden in the shadows. This is the story of what happened to Torchwood in this verse during the 6 months at the end of Children of Earth, after the 456 and the destruction of The Hub, while Jack and Methos were wandering the world.
A/N:
Written for Fix-it Big Bang fixitstory. Please go here to see the lovely art.
Can also be read at AO3.
~*~
2
*
Gwen stared sightless at the computer screen in front of her, eyes too full of tears to make out much beyond the predominant blue colour of the Torchwood screen saver.
"I can’t do this," she said, her voice almost unrecognisable to her ears. "The funeral was bad enough but this… this is like cutting the last piece of him out of existence. It’s too final."
"What happened after Owen and Tosh? Who logged them out?" Siannon asked. Gwen sniffed, and ran her hands over her face, knuckling the tears from her eyes.
"Who do you think?"
"Ah."
"I never envied Ianto this part of his job, tying up loose ends in the wake of destruction - especially when those loose ends were people. And here I am, having to do just that. I don’t think I’ve got the strength."
"Now that I don’t believe for one minute, and I know that Rhys would agree with me. You are one of the strongest people I know, Gwen, or we wouldn’t be sitting here trying to carry on."
"I don’t feel very strong at the moment."
"Neither do I."
"We make a right pair." Gwen turned back to the computer with an air of determination, but her fingers faltered over the keys. "It’s no good, I really can't do this." The swirling patterns on the screen seemed to mock her as she turned away to find Siannon gazing thoughtfully at her. "What?"
"I have full access, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Then give me a little while and I’ll do it." Siannon scrambled off the floor - she seemed to prefer the cushions and bean bags to the couch and chairs - and headed out of the room.
"Siannon?" Gwen called out in query after the retreating figure. There was no answer, but there was the distinct clink and clatter of glassware from the direction of the kitchen. She reappeared with an almost full bottle of what looked like whisky and a couple of glasses, setting them down on the low table near the desk. Gwen noticed that the green eyes were suspiciously bright, as if Siannon too was having trouble holding back her tears. It wasn’t a surprise, Siannon and Ianto had become close friends since she’d first appeared in their lives and his loss had hit her just as hard as it had hit Gwen, despite not being an official part of the Torchwood team.
"I’ll do it, but I can’t do it stone cold sober." Siannon explained as she hefted the bottle, pausing before she poured. "Deal?" It sounded like a bloody good idea to Gwen and she nodded. She knew she shouldn’t really *be* drinking, not with the baby on the way, and Rhys would probably give her hell for it but given the circumstances she thought he’d understand.
"Deal. I’ll let Rhys know I might not make it back."
"You do realise he’ll be round to check up on you?"
Gwen shrugged. "He can join in; he misses Ianto too. Then we can walk each other home…"
In the end Gwen didn’t really need Rhys’ supporting arm around her on the way home because she was drunk - Siannon had done enough drinking for all three of them and then some - but she needed it all the same. She was ridiculously glad she had Rhys and even though she’d felt guilty for leaving Siannon alone, she couldn’t have stayed, no matter what she had intended. After tonight she needed to get away from Torchwood and Rhys was her real escape, just as he always had been. Gwen unsuccessfully tried to avoid the thought that if Jack never came back, Siannon would more than likely be doing the same for her as she had done for Ianto tonight, and it struck her that the ones who died - the ones who never got to say goodbye - were actually the lucky ones. Rhys held her tight as she cried herself to sleep, staying mercifully silent.
*
Siannon leant on the railing and watched the sun descend in its fiery, temporary death over Cardiff, turning the water of the Bay a molten bronze. Tomorrow would be a new dawn in more than one way. Gwen was silent beside her, lost in her thoughts for the time being; Siannon was grateful for that as her own were also in a whirl. So far their strange partnership seemed to be working; Gwen was dealing with personnel issues, letting the Powers that Be know that Torchwood might be down - somewhat battered and bruised to say the least - but it certainly wasn't out. She was also putting out careful feelers for other team members and maintaining useful contacts with organisations such as the police, while Siannon dealt with logistics. They needed a home after all, even if it was only a temporary one and Siannon was of the opinion that the best thing for Torchwood Cardiff would be to have the potential for more than one base of operations, something she had more than a few ideas about.
Eventually Gwen found her voice.
"A Warehouse." It wasn't exactly phrased as a question though Siannon could tell there was a question there, as well as a kind of tired inevitability.
"It'll do for now," Siannon replied with determined casualness.
"Won't be the first time we've made do with a warehouse." There was a wistful tone to Gwen's voice, and a hint of the underlying pain that never seemed to be far from the surface these days. Siannon sighed.
"Probably won't be the last either. Useful things, warehouses," she said - pleased when her comment teased a smile out of Gwen; they could both probably stand to smile a little more. Gwen turned to lean her back against the railings, casting her eyes towards the site of the warehouse.
"We're really going to do this, Siannon, aren't we? A new Torchwood."
Siannon glanced up at Gwen. "Did you ever really doubt it?"
"Of course I did! But now... it actually seems possible. It's amazing."
"You're amazing," Siannon said with a smile. "Without you there wouldn't be the possibility of a new Torchwood."
Gwen leaned over and gently punched Siannon on the upper arm.
"We're amazing as I couldn't do it without you."
"OK, we're amazing. I'll give you that." They shared a grin as Gwen moved away to sit on a bench not far away. Siannon glanced back at the sunset, the sun was almost gone now. Impulsively, she closed her eyes and raised her voice in an old song to salute the end of the day only to have it cut short by an unexpected gust of a breeze, a wordless cry from Gwen and a loud splat as something hit the ground behind her. Siannon spun round to find Gwen gazing into the sunset with the hugest grin on her face.
"That was Myfanwy," Gwen said as she walked closer.
"It was? That's brilliant! What did she... oh." Siannon caught sight of the very dead, very fresh fish that had been dropped on the ground. Gwen was still grinning as she poked at the offending fish with a toe.
"I think she was giving us a present."
"That was very thoughtful of her. Now all we've got to do is catch her - again." Neither Siannon nor Gwen had been around when Myfanwy first arrived through the rift, but they had both heard the story - though Siannon was fairly certain that the version she'd had from Ianto was the more accurate, right down to the desperation he'd felt at the time. She bet Gwen had heard Jack's version, which was almost confirmed by Gwen's bright laugh.
"The first job for our Torchwood!"
Siannon grinned in response, Gwen's enthusiasm was infectious. "It is kind of appropriate and it'll be good to have her round the place, despite the mess."
"We could make it part of the selection criteria... Trial by pterodactyl poop."
What made it so funny was the way Gwen managed to keep a completely straight face and Siannon couldn't help but dissolve into giggles at the thought. It did have an element of merit though; anyone who couldn't cope with a relatively tame pterodactyl was unlikely to be able to cope with a weevil or a hoix or any of the other weird and wonderful things that fell through the rift. Still giggling, she followed Gwen back to where they'd left their cars, feeling strangely optimistic about the days ahead rather than overwhelmed like she had been; Myfanwy had always had the ability to make her smile and it seemed that hadn't changed.
*
Operation Myfanwy, as Siannon laughingly referred to it, was made somewhat easier by her discovery that the tracking device that Ianto had insisted on implanting into her - after one too many close calls with irate sheep farmers - was still working. It hadn’t stopped Myfanwy’s penchant for an occasional woolly snack but according to Ianto it had enabled them to be a lot quicker on the uptake that she’d sneaked off for one. Easier however, did not make it easy, tracking device or no.
Siannon's feet pounded down the pavement, her breath coming in hard pants. Although she was trained for both speed and endurance, it was for the less prosaic art of the blade rather than running around late-night Cardiff after a thrice-damned flying dinosaur, and it was bloody hard work chasing down something that didn’t seem to want to be caught. Fortunately for everyone concerned Myfanwy seemed to prefer hunting at night, and as yet there had been no reported sightings from the public; but even so they needed to get her back quickly. Siannon paused in her mad dash for a moment, partly to get her breath back and partly to await further directions from Gwen who was coordinating the whole thing from the relative comfort of the Torchwood warehouse base.
"Three hundred metres on your right," Gwen said over the comms. "She seems to have come to rest; maybe it's her nesting site."
"Roger that," Siannon replied and she could practically hear Gwen's grin at the military term. Maybe she’d been spending too much time with Bambera and the other UNIT liaisons, she shrugged, she could think of worse people with whom to be spending it. Chocolate firmly in hand, Siannon approached the location Gwen had given her; but once she saw the building that Myfanwy had taken residence in she stopped and began laughing. It took several attempts for her to stop laughing long enough to understand that Gwen was trying to say something.
"Siannon? Care to let me in on the joke?"
"Sorry, Gwen. It's just, I think I've found our new HQ," she replied. "The building Myfanwy's nesting in, it's one of my churches. I’d bought it anyway as I knew it would be perfect for me if it didn’t meet Torchwood’s needs but I reckon that if it gets the Myfanwy seal of approval it belongs to Torchwood after all."
Siannon heard Gwen chuckle on the other end of the comms.
"Guess I should come and have a reccie then," she said before signing off.
Siannon looked down at the chocolate in her hands and smiled in relief. Despite her assurances to Gwen, she hadn't been entirely sure that she'd be able to catch Myfanwy on her own. At least now that wouldn't be a problem; one of the advantages of already being the owner of the building concerned was that she happened to have a key, which meant that reaching Myfanwy where she was perched on the roof would be the easiest job of the night. It also meant she would have to start thinking about how to make the old church of St James a home for Torchwood, instead of a home for herself - or another immortal - as she’d planned.
*
With Myfanwy back on board as it were, Siannon began to feel like they were getting somewhere, although she had precious little time to spend on what she felt were Torchwood specific issues as she dealt with trying to make a base out of an old church and bringing herself up to speed with some essential medical training. She found the latter infinitely more difficult - she already had the contacts in place for the church conversion because of her business and many of them were well used to secrecy - hacking into the necessary NHS databases was problematical at times and she found she missed Tosh more than ever. In the meantime, Gwen was left to deal with UNIT and the Torchwood site. They were both thankful that the rift, and Cardiff’s resident Weevil population, remained quiescent.
Siannon felt like she was neck deep in paperwork - both physical and electronic - when Gwen returned from the Bay one evening but when she was given no more than a distracted ‘hi’ she turned around to find Gwen staring thoughtfully into space, clutching a small box tightly to her chest.
"What is it?" Siannon asked gently. Gwen didn’t immediately answer but hugged the box closer making Siannon wonder just what it contained.
"Do you trust UNIT?"
Siannon frowned; it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected to hear.
"I trust Bambera and her immediate team," she said with conviction. "The rest? Probably no further than I could throw them but as they’re all terrified of her they’re kept in line." Gwen loosened her hold on the box, but didn’t let go of it as she came to perch alongside Siannon on the desk.
"What do you think makes Bambera and her team so special?"
Gwen didn't sound like she was just asking for an opinion as far as Siannon was concerned; she sounded like she needed to understand. It seemed the fact that Bambera was special wasn't up for debate, but the reason behind why she was special was of utmost importance. As Siannon had been of the same mind she wasn't surprised that Gwen appeared to feel that way.
"You knew she’d been in contact with Martha?" Siannon asked; Gwen nodded her reply. "Did you know why though?"
"I didn’t ask; I trust Martha. I assumed Bambera wanted a few recommendations of people that might be more sympathetic toward Torchwood."
"That’s true as far as it goes, but I did a little digging and found out it went deeper than that." Siannon tilted her chair back and looked up at Gwen with a smile. The box had found its way to the desk, but Gwen still had one hand resting on it in an almost protective manner. "Do you know her husband’s name?"
"Bambera's? What’s that got to do with anything?" Gwen's face crinkled in a puzzled frown, but she didn't move her hand from the box.
"You’d be surprised," Siannon replied, with a smile and a raised eyebrow. Gwen sighed, folded her arms and half perched on the desk beside the mysterious box.
"So enlighten me then, just who is Winifred Bambera’s husband?" She asked, managing to sound both bored and interested at the same time. Siannon waited for a moment before continuing.
"Ancelyn ap Gwalchmai."
"Gwalchmai. GWALCHMAI?" Gwen's voice rose, but stopped short of becoming a disbelieving shriek - just. "You mean Arthurian Gwalchmai?"
"So it would seem, though not from our universe."
"How the hell did a UNIT Brigadier manage to bump into him?" That was the same question Siannon had initially, but for different reasons; she'd wanted to know if she would be meeting him at swordpoint - or not - in a fight for her head. It turned out not, luckily for her, though the truth of Ancelyn had turned out to be even stranger than immortality. She told Gwen the important part of what she had discovered.
"It was Jack’s Doctor; but not exactly Jack’s Doctor as we know him."
"So what does a time-travelling, face-changing alien have to do with the sons of legendary Arthurian knights?"
"Apparently he’s Merlin - or he will be - in a different universe." Siannon had been reassured by the alternate twist, she'd had trouble equating what she knew about Jack's Doctor, despite his sometimes Machiavellian tendencies, with the version of Merlin she'd heard about in her youth.
"Why am I not surprised? It makes a twisted kind of sense in a way - everything he seems to have a hand in gets complicated to say the least. That explains Bambera; what about the rest of them?"
"Most of them are simply good people, but her two aides… well, Ross Jenkins almost died defending the ATMOS factory from the Sontarans. He didn’t because a certain time-travelling alien had planted a device on him that defused some of the power of the shot that was fired at him, just enough to give him a fighting chance at surviving, which was all he needed."
"That probably made him more loyal to the Doctor than to UNIT, I would have thought."
"Exactly."
"What about Beth Sullivan? I thought her parents were UNIT personnel."
"They were - but they were also both companions of the Doctor at different times."
"How did you find out all of this? None of it is in the databases - official and otherwise - I checked."
"I have to admit I resorted to rather underhand tactics."
"Oh? That sounds very Torchwood of you."
"I thought so too, I was rather pleased with myself."
"So what ‘underhand tactics’ did you use?"
"I asked them nicely."
"You asked them nicely." Gwen didn't sound terribly convinced and Siannon chuckled.
"Uh-huh. Over a couple of very large whiskies…"
"And?"
"It seems that a message had been sent, via Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, that we were to be assisted in any way."
"So that’s who Bambera meant when she said her orders were from a higher authority. I thought she was talking about The Queen."
"Bambera was appointed by The Queen; I have a feeling Elizabeth R might have received a message too."
"Oh that just takes the bloody biscuit, that does. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen when Iant… when we needed him and now he’s condescending to send us messages. Lovely. You know, I don’t think I care any more. The important thing is that Bambera and her team remain willing to help; that’s what we need after all."
"Remain willing?" Siannon queried.
"Yeah. Bambera gave me this today; seems she found it after one of the ‘normal’ UNIT people had passed it by." Gwen picked up the box from the desk and passed it to Siannon, who took it off her somewhat gingerly. It was obviously something important judging by how protective Gwen had been about it, but beyond that Siannon had no idea what might be enclosed, though her brain helpfully threw a few suggestions at her, all wrong as it turned out. She opened the box cautiously to find the coral from Jack’s desk in the Hub nestling inside and obviously wrapped very carefully against damage. Siannon couldn’t help but smile.
"How did they miss this? It isn’t exactly small."
"Now there’s the thing," Gwen said. "Bambera tells me it just appeared out of nowhere when she drew close - ‘phased into existence’ were her exact words - and if you scan it," Gwen demonstrated, "you’ll notice that it’s giving off a ridiculous amount of Rift Energy."
"Which implies it was hiding in the rift, and is sentient." Siannon could have sworn the coral glowed briefly at her words, but she put it down to imagination when Gwen didn’t appear to notice anything. "It explains why Ianto used to wash it in tea occasionally; he obviously knew what it wanted."
"That means he knew what it was, which isn’t really surprising I suppose considering whose desk it lived on." Gwen sighed. "I really miss him, even more than Jack if that’s possible."
"You and me both. We could always go and tell him our good news, you know."
"What?"
"First Myfanwy, now the coral; I think that’s good news and worth sharing. We can go and have a coffee and a chat."
"You’re suggesting we go to Ianto’s grave…"
"With a coffee…"
"And tell him about it?"
"Yup. And Tosh - don't forget she's right there next to him."
"Siannon, you’re brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?"
Siannon didn’t answer that out loud, but she was fairly certain Gwen knew anyway; she’d had no option but to learn how to deal with loss given her life span and sometimes simple things were what enabled a person to cope. She also didn't mention the empty grave - empty that is except for his stethoscope and white coat - that was all they'd been able to give Owen.
*
Chapter Three