Torchwood S3 (AU) - Episode 1 "Identity Crisis" Part 3/5
Title: Episode 2 "Identity Crisis" Part 3/5
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, PC Andy
Pairings: Essentially gen. (Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys)
Spoilers: Up to "Exit Wounds" (the events of DW "The Stolen Earth" & "Journey's End" have taken place in the time between Episodes 1 & 2)
Rating: Some swearing, some violence.
Disclaimer: Quite evidently, I don't own Torchwood.
Episode Teaser: When a man comes in to his police station and reports himself missing, PC Andy Davidson has the sneaking suspicion that there well may be some spooky business afoot. He calls Torchwood on the case, but it soon becomes clear that they're all in for more than they ever bargained for.
Previous Episodes/Parts:
Nearer Yet Further Away: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4
Identity Crisis: Part 1 Part 2
The Torchwood SUV pulls up against the pavement smoothly. The clock on the dashboard reads 11.55AM, and the street is alive with people out for a Saturday night drink. Gwen sighs, she’d half thought that she might get out with Rhys tonight. It’s been too long, what with the three of them just barely managing to cope with everything that the Rift throws at them, and she’d been looking forward to some downtime. Instead, she’d had to phone him on their way out of the police station, and inform him that she probably wouldn’t be back at all tonight.
It’s not forever, though. Soon they’ll find someone else, they have to. She’s not sure how long they can continue like this, just the three of them, knows it’s only too long before they’re forced to overstretch themselves so far that something snaps…
She shakes her head. Pull yourself together woman.
“Ianto?” Jack speaks, tapping the Bluetooth in his ear. “That’s us here. Did our masculine maiden’s story check out?”
Gwen listens for Ianto’s response. While she and Jack had made some further inquiries at the police station (to not much avail) and then headed out to where their missing person had vanished, Ianto had taken Jennifer back to the Hub to verify her story through the use of a piece of tech Jack had proclaimed to be the ‘best lie detector on the planet’.
“She got the green light.” Ianto confirms. “That enough for you?”
Gwen sees Jack shrug, his shoulders moving beneath the heavy fabric of his coat.
“It’s the best verification we can get. It would take something special to fool that machine into giving a false result.” Right after the words leave his mouth Jack frowns, as if trying to remember something that’s hovering in some dim corner of his mind, just out of reach. Gwen makes a mental note to ask about it later.
“So, what are we looking for?” She asks out loud, addressing both of them. Ianto replies.
“According to Jennifer, they were in The Walkabout having a drink. They left the pub together and were walking home. Near the junction to Caroline Street she says she was aware of a strange feeling, like someone walking across her grave.”
Jack cuts in with a dramatic sigh. “That saying makes no sense. It’s not like you can feel it, six feet underground.”
“Right. Of course.” Ianto pauses. “I’ll trust in your expertise. I don’t really feel any urge to do the necessary research, I’m afraid. Anyway, she turned to tell her husband of the strange sensation, but he had vanished. So…you probably want to take a look around at that junction, see if you spot anything.”
“And maybe the pub they were in too?” Gwen suggests. “Something in the drinks?”
Jack nods. “It’s a possibility. Although you’d expect that this would have happened to more people, if that was the case. Still, doesn’t hurt to cover all bases!” He slaps his hands down on his legs, before grabbing the key from the ignition and opening the door. “Where do you have Jennifer now, Ianto?” he asks as he steps out onto the street. Gwen follows his example, stepping out into the cool of the night.
“She was hungry, so I picked up some Chinese on the way back. She’s eating it in the boardroom.”
Gwen’s stomach makes a loud rumble at the mention of food, and Jack grins at her, making her blush in embarrassment, before his tone turns commanding.
“Right. I want you to run through some tests with her. We need to know if she’s got her own memories, or if it’s just her consciousness that’s been placed in this body. Oh, and leave your earpiece switched on, incase we need to contact each other.”
“Of course.” Ianto replies, the hint of a grin apparent in his tone. “Right on it.”
“Do you know what I don’t get?” Gwen ponders, as they walk down the street, having to dodge the odd drunkard. In an odd way, it reminds her of nights on the beat. Not that she misses it. Well, not that part of the job, anyway.
Jack glances at her. “What?”
“Well, she didn’t notice that she was in his body until she got to the police station, right? But surely you would. I mean, if I suddenly turned into Rhys…”
Jack smirks. “Please don’t.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” Then she suddenly stops. “Oh Christ, I’ve just jinxed it, haven’t I? It’ll happen now.”
Jack takes her arm, starting her walking again. “Gwen Cooper, you are far too beautiful for me to allow that.”
She can’t help but smile at the compliment, even as she elbows him lightly. “Oi, Rhys is handsome. Just because you go for the pretty boys.”
“Oh!” Jack exclaims dramatically. “It’s just as well Ianto isn’t listening any more. He’d be hurt.”
“Nonsense. He more than anyone knows what you’re like. And it’s a compliment, really.”
Jack grins.
“To him, not you.” Gwen clarifies. “Anyway, as I was saying, I think I’d notice if I was suddenly a bloke. I’d just be…different…I wouldn’t think I’d need to look in a mirror to know that.”
Jack shrugs. “Her husband had just gone missing. She was probably in too much shock to notice much beyond that fact.”
Gwen thinks for a moment of that horrible time, more than a year ago now, when Rhys had been lying on the Torchwood autopsy table, dead. She remembers the shock and the grief flooding her senses, remembers her thoughts ceasing to be more than a list of ways to get him back, because he couldn’t be gone, just couldn’t, not Rhys, not her link to a comfortable, normal life. She swallows.
“You’re right. I suppose you don’t think too clearly when someone you love is in danger.”
Jack nods, and they walk in silence for a moment, both lost in thoughts of love and loss, the air thick around them, weighed down by the past and all those possible futures stretching out before them. Gwen can’t contemplate more than months ahead, not really, everything blurs and seems so very uncertain when she tries to think in periods of years. It used to be so easy, to look ahead and see herself in five years time, married to Rhys, hopefully with a couple of children, maybe moving out of their small flat into something a bit larger, a bit more homely. She can’t see that future now. Sometimes she misses it.
“Right.” Jack stops dead at the street corner. Across the road from them is a pub, Kitty Flynns, and on their side of the road there’s a shuttered down retail unit with a ‘for let’ sign. “This is where it happened.” He strides forward a couple of steps, taking an atmospheric reader from an inside coat pocket, shielding it from the view of any passers-by with his coat. He frowns at it, walking a small way down Caroline Street, before turning and returning to where Gwen stands.
“Anything?” She asks.
“Some very strange readings. Especially…” he steps forward, placing one hand against the shuttered shop window before crouching down, “…here. There was a huge expulsion of C02, and some elements I’ve never even seen before.” He breathes in, pushing himself back up.
Gwen raises her eyebrows. “Reckon it’s got something to do with this body-swapping business then?”
He frowns. “Possibly.” He presses the button on his Bluetooth. “Ianto?”
Ianto’s response is almost immediate. “Yes Jack.”
“How are things your end?”
“Oh…ticking over. Feel a bit like I’m hosting ‘This is Your Life’”
Gwen snorts. “Have you got a secret guest? You always need a secret guest.”
“Well, I was hoping you might get me her husband. That would do.”
“We’re working on it.” Jack promises. “How’s her memory check out?”
“It’s….confused. Bits and pieces of hers, some of his. Also, she doesn’t seem able to differentiate between the two.”
Jack nods, considering. “I’d thought that might be the case. It’s difficult to do a clean switch, and I’ve got a feeling…” He trails off, and Gwen gives him a look, prompting him to continue. Instead, he switches tack.
“Ianto, I’m going to give you the number of a letting agency.”
“And I thought you liked living in the Hub.” Ianto comments blandly.
Jack looks heavenward. “It’s for the retail unit on the corner of Caroline Street. It seems to be empty, but I’m not so sure. I want you to find out if there’s anyone renting the place off the books. Tell them whatever you have to to get it out of them. National security, spies, whatever, as long you get the information.”
“Oh fun. Causing unnecessary panic. I’ll get right on it.”
Despite his dry tone, Gwen thinks that the statement might not be quite as sarcastic as it seems. Ianto loves the ‘secret agent’ type stuff, she knows fine well. He’d been in a good mood for weeks after that time they’d had to pretend to be MI6 agents in order to investigate some funny goings on over in Swansea, not to mention the time she’d walked into the firing range once just in time to hear him proclaim “The name’s Jones, Ianto Jones” as he aimed at a Weevil target. She hadn’t been able to stop giggling for a good half hour after that one, Ianto had not been impressed.
“Thanks.” Jack taps the Bluetooth again, ending the communication, before clapping his hands together and addressing Gwen.
“Up for a spot of breaking and entering, milady?”
Gwen grins. “It would be my pleasure, dear sir.”
* * * * *
“So, do you lot work for the government or something?”
Ianto puts the phone down, very nearly jumping out of his skin at the voice sounding right behind his shoulder, but, thankfully for his reputation, just managing to keep his composure. He turns slightly, so that the other man is within his line of sight. Of course, he probably shouldn’t be thinking of him as a man, given that Jack’s lie detector gizmo pretty much proved that, despite appearances, he is in fact female. But then again, the body is male…which of those should dictate what he thinks of Jennifer as? He pauses, imagining Jack doing one of his ‘you people and your constant need to label everything’ spiels.
“Uh…” He gives Jennifer what he hopes is a reassuring smile “Not exactly. We get our authority from the Queen, strictly speaking, but we don’t really answer to anyone.”
“Oh.” Jennifer blinks, and Ianto wonders for a moment if that was one of those questions that you shouldn’t actually answer. Oh well, he shrugs, she’ll have to be retconned anyway, once they get her back in her own body. He rubs the back of his neck, pulling up CCTV footage on the screen in front of him.
“Do you think they’ll manage to find him?” Jennifer asks, sounding small and naïve despite the gravely, rough voice.
Ianto gives her a quick smile. “They’ll do their best.” He really is awful at being reassuring. He wishes that Gwen were here. He’s altogether too realistic to be good at this.
“What if, what if they’ve done something to him? If he’s not himself anymore, if they’ve…swapped him again with someone…or something? What then?”
Ianto closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he places a hand lightly on Jennifer’s shoulder, barely touching.
“If there’s any way at all that James can be saved, Jack and Gwen will do it.” He promises, knowing that it’s the truth, despite the sick feeling in his chest. They couldn’t have saved Lisa, couldn’t have returned her to the woman that she was. He has to be sure of that.
Jennifer nods sadly, accepting his answer. “Thanks…however it turns out, I want you to know that I really am grateful.” Ianto blinks, slightly stunned for some reason.
“You’re welcome.”
She smiles then, reedy thin and unconvincing. “I saw this week’s ‘Heat’ on one of the desks through there. I wouldn’t mind trying to distract myself with Britney’s latest antics, if you don’t mind? I’ll just be on the sofa.”
“Of course. No problem. I’ll call you if the world starts ending.” Jennifer goes slightly pale. “Not that it’s likely to.” Ianto adds, hurriedly. “Sorry. You work here too long, you get flippant about these things.”
Thick eyebrows rise incredulously. “The end of the world?”
“It’s not exactly your average day job.” Ianto concedes.
Jennifer shakes her head, before wandering off to find Gwen’s magazine, muttering under her breath as she goes. “And I thought swapping bodies with my husband would be the most surprising part of my day…”
* * * * *
Jack pushes open the door quietly, stalking into the shop with what he regards as a high level of stealth, Gwen following after. He slowly draws his gun, keeping it raised, flicking his aim between the many shadows in the large, dark room.
There’s a small ‘click’ from behind him, and the room flickers into light.
“There. Much better.”
He gives Gwen a look, which she returns unashamedly.
“The windows are all shuttered, so no one can see us from outside. We might as well have the lights on, as much as I know you like stumbling about in the dark.”
Jack smirks, then sighs.
“Looks like we’ve hit a dead end.”
The shop is an empty shell, stripped of everything save for a few metal shelves against one wall and a couple of desks. Dust is scattered across every surface, and it looks as though the place has been out of use for some time.
“We might as well take a bit of a look around, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”
“Maybe we’ll have better luck in the pub?” Gwen suggests.
Jack frowns, thinking about the strange readings he’d got outside this building. He’d kind of been expecting to step straight into some nefarious laboratory of sorts. To find instead that they were back to square one, well, it was irritating, to say the least.
“Maybe.” He replies, noncommittal, before wandering over to one of the desks, opening the drawers in turn and looking inside. Gwen goes over to another, and does the same, and he has the feeling that she will find exactly the same as him. Absolutely nothing. Well, not quite nothing. Three blank tax return forms and a takeaway menu from down the road, but nothing connected to strange disappearances and people swapping bodies.
He’s just getting the atmospheric reader back out of his pocket to do a sweep of the room, when Ianto’s voice comes in on his Bluetooth.
“Jack.”
“Ianto, am I glad to hear those beautiful Welsh vowels! Please tell me that you’ve found something.”
“I think I might have, yes.”
Jack straightens, listening in interest, noticing Gwen do the same a couple of metres away, her brow furrowed in attention to Ianto’s words.
“It took some doing, but I finally managed to get out of the letting agency that they actually let out this place last week. The customer came in to their office and paid a large sum in cash for the place. He also asked for them to leave the ‘for let’ sign up outside the shop.”
“Sounds like they didn’t want to be disturbed.” Gwen ponders.
“Yup. The bloke didn’t give them his name either, just said that they’d be needing the place for a month and would clear out after that point.”
“Smart guy. Paying in cash, not giving a name. Leaves us no trail to follow.”
“Ah, but I took the liberty of accessing the letting office’s CCTV for that day. I went through it, and at the time the deal took place, there was only one customer in the shop, and you got a good look at his face on the way out.”
Ianto pauses, and Jack gets the vague impression that he’s pretty darn pleased with himself.
“I managed to match him up against the computer databases. He’s called Collin Rhine, and he was reported missing last Friday.”
Jack grins. “Good work Ianto. Sounds like whoever did this to James and Jennifer has been taking some of their mixed up bodies out on loan.”
He looks over at Gwen, who’s glancing around the empty shop, obviously thinking along the same lines as him. If someone was willing to go to such lengths to get this place and to keep it secret, it can’t be as abandoned as it seems.
“Ianto, would you be able to find a plan of this place?” Gwen asks, frowning.
“Of course, just give me a moment.”
“How’s Jennifer?” Gwen asks, as Ianto finds the information.
“Fine. Perusing the intricacies of Brad and Angelina’s private lives, I think. She found one of your magazines.” Gwen smiles.
“I’m glad that someone’s getting some use out of them, I only buy them for the crosswords.”
“Okay, got the plans. I’ll send them to your PDA, Jack. If you don’t have any more tests or anything you want me to run, I think I’ll run Jennifer back to her home. We can contact her if we find out anything else, and it will be safer than the Hub.” He pauses. “Plus, if Myfanwy has to spend much longer cooped up in that cage we’ll have a very angry pteranodon on our hands.”
“Great.” Jack’s PDA bleeps, and he pulls it from his pocket. “Okay, take her home. We don’t have to worry about Retcon just now, no one’s going to believe her story, we saw that at the police station.”
“Right. Will do. Bye for now.”
The line goes dead and Jack gestures with one hand for Gwen to come and look at the plans that Ianto has sent. When she gets close enough to see, he points at a section of the plan with one finger.
“Quite some basement they’ve got.”
Gwen nods. “Bet you a fiver there’s something alien down there?”
“Come on, you know that Owen’s the only one that ever fell for that one.”
Gwen smiles at him, with only a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I must have made fifty quid over the years. He never did learn.” She looks around, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Ah, there we go.” She points towards the far corner, where the faint outline of a trapdoor can be seen, almost unnoticeable unless you know what you’re looking for.
“So..” she ventures, as they walk towards it. “Are we going in guns blazing, or scoping out the area?”
Jack kneels down next to the trapdoor, digging his fingers into the slight hole in the wood that acts as a handle.
“We’ll play it by ear. Wouldn’t want to leave Ianto out if we’ve got a proper fight on our hands.”
Gwen snorts. “Of course not, he’d never forgive us.”
Jack lifts the trapdoor up in one fluid movement and pauses for a moment, peering downwards. There’s steep concrete stairs leading down underneath the shop, lit by a warm, flickering light from below.
“I’ll go down first. If everything’s fine, I’ll call you and you can join me.”
Gwen nods slightly reluctantly, and Jack heads down the stairs, trying his hardest to make his footsteps silent as he descends. He stops a couple of steps from the bottom, whilst he’s still hidden from view, the light from the large wood stove in the centre of the basement not quite reaching him. He sinks down into a crouch, exhaling slowly at the sight before him. There are two large cages, one on each side of the room, both full of people. There must be at least ten in each cage, some huddling into one another in fear, some standing in shocked silence, others trying in vain to communicate with their counterparts in the other cage. Jack catches sight of a young woman sat apart from the others in the far cage, and recognises her from the picture Jennifer had shown them at the police station. So, that must be James then. Jack’s relieved to see that no harm seems to have come to Jennifer’s body, anyway. Given the trauma of finding himself in someone else’s body and then immediately being imprisoned, it’s possible that the same can’t be said for James’ mental state, but they’ll just have to hope for the best, for him as well as for all the others who must have been subjected to the same treatment. Jack blinks, sure for a moment that he can see faint cords of light shining from one cage to the other, connecting the captives together. His gaze swims for a second, and a slow ache starts up in the back of his head. He blinks again, and tries to focus on the others in the room.
There’s five of them, three women and two men. One woman is at a desk near the stove, seeming to be doing calculations of some kind, whilst the men stand one outside each cage, preventing communication between the separated captives. The other women are making adjustments to what looks like a kind of massive, metallic resonator of sorts. What it’s for, Jack has no idea, but he has the feeling that it will be something more sinister than playing the collected hits of Britney Spears. Which is sinister enough as it is, if you ask him.
As he watches them, the women make a few final adjustments, and then stand back as the resonator starts emitting a strange, high pitched noise. It’s not so much loud as it is piercing, cutting through every other sound in the room, making everything in Jack want to run up the stairs and away. He can see the captives in the cages, cradling their heads in their hands. It must be some kind of sound torture, but why? The five outside of the cages also seem to be in pain, from the tight grimace that Jack catches a glimpse of on one guards face. Why would you design a method of torture that harm you at the same time as your victims?
Jack considers possible courses of action for a moment, as well as he is able to with the noise slicing through his thoughts. He eyes the captors warily from his position in the shadows, sizing them up. Five against one aren’t great odds, and he doesn’t really fancy coming back to life locked up in one of those cages. Also, given the number of captives, there’s a worrying likelihood that this might turn into a rather nasty hostage scenario. With reluctance, Jack begins to slowly, quietly back his way up the stairs. If worse comes to worst, he’ll have to call Ianto and the three of them will attempt a rescue, although he hopes that they can come up with a plan where the odds aren’t quite as stacked up against them.
When he reaches the top of the stairs, he slowly pushes the trapdoor up, his head emerging into the shop above. The sudden bright light makes him see vibrant colours bursting into life behind his eyes, as the throbbing pain in his head from earlier grows into something gnawing and vicious. He’s dimly aware of a large figure standing in front of him, but the edges of his vision are all blurred. He’s forced to close his eyes, just for a moment, gasping in air, trying to rid himself of whatever’s come over him.
His eyes fly back open though as the distinct sound of a gunshot sounds over and above the painful ringing that still emanates from below. The room seems different from before, not in the least due to the portly man lying on the floor in front of him, bleeding from the shoulder. There’s a gun on the floor besides him, and his fingers seem to be trying to reach for it without much success, hampered by the pain that’s drained his face of its colour and left him breathing in tight gasps.
Poor bastard, Jack thinks. But, then again, from the looks of it, he’d been ready to shoot them, which makes him somewhat less of a victim in Jack’s eyes. Gwen must have fired the shot, hidden out of sight when she’d heard the man coming and then used Jack’s appearance as a distraction. Jack frowns, glad that the man hadn’t got his shot off first. He likes to avoid dying, if he can possibly help it. It might not be permanent, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt like a bitch when it happens.
Jack tries to reach for his gun in order to keep it trained on the wounded man on the floor, but suddenly finds that he can’t move his arms. Since when were his hands tied behind his back? He certainly doesn’t remember that happening, unless when thought he’d closed his eyes for a moment he’d actually passed out…which would be slightly embarrassing, and very strange, seeing as somebody would have had to tie his hands together before propping him back up on his feet before he came to consciousness. Unless the aim was to create some kind of living statue, he can’t quite see the point.
There’s another possible scenario, given the situation, but it’s something that he doesn’t really want to contemplate. But seeing as, in addition to his bound state, he’s also without his beloved coat, a good deal shorter, and perhaps most tellingly, currently staring back at himself from across the room, mouth open in shock, it’s beginning to look far too likely.
He continues staring at himself with a mixture of shock, horror, and a vague hint of amusement, before startled by a pointed cough from over near the doorway. He turns his head, and sees his body do the same thing. At the very least, he knows that he’s looking good today.
“Thought you lot were supposed to be the professionals, eh?” Jack blinks, trying to fool his eyes into admitting that they’re just playing exceptionally nasty games on his consciousness, because there by the door, holding a gun rather unprofessionally in one hand, is Cardiff’s very own PC Plod. Andy grins at him, looking quite exceptionally smug. “Good thing for your boss that I came in when I did, although just why you two are breaking into empty shops I don’t know. To be honest, I was expecting a cat to have tripped the alarm, or maybe some kids playing pranks, not Torchwood being threatened at gunpoint! Not something you see everyday.”
Jack groans and closes his eyes. Perfect, just perfect.
* * * * *
He didn’t really expect much from Torchwood, but this, well this really took the biscuit. You’d think, considering the fact that he’d just saved Captain Arrogance from, at the very least, a nasty gun shot wound, he just might get a little appreciation for once.
Nothing outlandish. Sure, something along the lines of “Andy, we fall on our knees in gratitude for your incredible bravery, you are without a doubt the best, most dynamic policeman to ever grace Cardiff’s ranks”…would have been nice, but really, a simple “cheers mate” would have done the trick just fine.
But did he get that? Oh no. Instead, the courage and valour he’d shown in saving their skin had gone pretty much unnoticed by the two of them. Harkness, well, the man had seemed as if he was in a state of shock. Slightly understandable, seeing as he’d very nearly been shot, but still, he usually acted as if he’d been a soldier in pretty much every war since the dawn of time…which was bollocks, obviously, but still, Andy hadn’t expected him to be reduced to such a state by a scare like that. It had been quite amusing, really. Jack had opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and when he had finally spoken, it had been a confused sounding “I…you…”. Then he’d loudly exclaimed “Oh, well this is just brilliant!” with more than a hint of sarcasm, before stomping out the door as if Andy wasn’t even there. Honestly, the cheek of some people.
To be honest, he expected it from Harkness though. But Gwen had been just as bad. She’d actually ordered him to take care of the injured man, not suggested, not asked, but ordered, as if Andy had no choice in the matter. So he’d been left with the clean-up, whilst those two had swanned off. It hadn’t been fun, getting the angry, swearing man into his squad car and to the hospital, and it had been an even less pleasant task convincing Swanson that the injured man needed an armed guard at all times, and explaining exactly why he'd had a gun in the first place (in a place where Roman soldiers and creatures from the deep kept emerging from the woodwork he considered keeping armed to be a necessary evil.) They’d eventually come to what she’d called a compromise, and Andy privately considered to be anything but. There would be a guard at the hospital….one PC Andy Davidson. And she'd confiscated his gun.
He sighs, tapping his pen thoughtfully against the paper in front of him in a rhythm somewhat resembling the theme from ‘Star Wars’. He was willing to bet his uniform that no members of Torchwood were currently sitting bored out of their skulls outside a hospital room, trying halfheartedly to fill in a pointless and longwinded form regarding the discharge of an unauthorised weapon at a premises on St Mary Street earlier. No, they were probably having a right lark fannying about with alien blasters or something. He pauses writing, as he hears raised American and Welsh tones from inside the room. ‘Something’ was evidently ‘yelling at their injured and semi-conscious would-be assailant’ then. Andy folds up the form and puts it and the pen into his jacket pocket. They must have sneaked in when he’d gone to grab a coffee, the sneaky sods.
He clicks the ‘on’ button on his walkie-talkie.
“John, been told that Swanson wants you down at the hospital pronto.” he lies, quite convincingly, even if he does say so himself. He responds to the non-committal grumbling he gets in response by lowering his tone conspiratorially.
“She’s got a right bee in her bonnet over this one - on the warpath, so she is. I wouldn’t like to be the one to get on her bad side today, that’s for sure.”
He grins, as his colleague’s grumbles promptly turn into hurried assertions that he will be there as fast as is humanly possible. He will be as well, everyone knows better than to mess with Swanson when she’s in a mood.
Everyone except Andy, apparently, seeing as he’s technically deserting his post, and giving out fake orders in her name. He gulps, but before he can dwell too long on the truly monumental bollocking he’s likely to get, Gwen and then Jack stride straight past him.
“Hey, Harkness!”
Jack completely ignores him, but Gwen stops, turning towards him slightly before calling out to her boss, sounding vaguely amused.
“I think PC Davidson here wants your attention, Jack.”
That does the trick, and Jack halts, turning around to face him with a frown that, strangely enough, softens into something more friendly upon seeing Andy there.
“Andy! You know, I’m so sorry about earlier, it was just all a bit of a shock-“
Gwen coughs pointedly, and Jack glances at her before continuing.
“-but I’m afraid we can’t hang about, we’ve got to-“
“No way mister.” Andy stands up from his seat in the hospital hallway. “I shot someone for you two, I think that deserves at least some cooperation.”
He stares levelly at first Jack, then Gwen. Jack nods, reluctantly, even as Gwen shakes her head.
“No way.”
Jack looks at her.
“He is right, Jack…“ he pauses for a second, eyes wide “…is grateful.” His voice rises at the end of the last word, and he looks distinctly nervous. Andy glances at Gwen.
“Just out of curiosity, does your boss often speak in the third person?”
Gwen grins.
“Not usually. But, y’know, I think he’s just about dashing enough to pull it off.”
Jack looks like he can’t quite decide whether to be annoyed or amused by the compliment, and Andy considers whether or not he might need to have a quiet word with Rhys at some point. But for the moment, he has bigger fish to fry than trying to dissuade Gwen from fancying Mr Americana. He claps his hands together.
“Well, I’m going to take that break into the third person as a yes.”
Gwen glares at Jack, hands on her hips, and Andy feels a flicker of annoyance and hurt that she’s still trying so hard to keep him in the dark. But it’s fleeting, because he’s pretty sure that he’s in this time, despite any protests from Gwen, and he’s got the perfect words for the occasion.
“Go on then, lead me to the Batcave.”
They both sigh and look at one another, before Gwen shrugs.
“Fine. You can come. But touch anything you're not supposed to and I’ll set a hungry pteranodon on you.”
Andy rolls his eyes.
“You know, I might actually be scared if that threat had a touch more realism, Gwen.”
Jack actually giggles, before glancing at Gwen.
“Fiver says he faints.” Andy feels his eyes widen slightly. Surely they weren’t being serious…
“Done.” Gwen nods, before turning to head off, throwing words over her shoulder at Andy when he fails to immediately follow. “Come along then, work to do.”
Andy swallows. Right. Getting to see the Torchwood base. Great.
He sighs, before jogging to catch up with them, reprimanding himself quietly.
"Bloody Nora, just what exactly have I let myself in for this time?"
PART 4
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, PC Andy
Pairings: Essentially gen. (Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys)
Spoilers: Up to "Exit Wounds" (the events of DW "The Stolen Earth" & "Journey's End" have taken place in the time between Episodes 1 & 2)
Rating: Some swearing, some violence.
Disclaimer: Quite evidently, I don't own Torchwood.
Episode Teaser: When a man comes in to his police station and reports himself missing, PC Andy Davidson has the sneaking suspicion that there well may be some spooky business afoot. He calls Torchwood on the case, but it soon becomes clear that they're all in for more than they ever bargained for.
Previous Episodes/Parts:
Nearer Yet Further Away: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4
Identity Crisis: Part 1 Part 2
The Torchwood SUV pulls up against the pavement smoothly. The clock on the dashboard reads 11.55AM, and the street is alive with people out for a Saturday night drink. Gwen sighs, she’d half thought that she might get out with Rhys tonight. It’s been too long, what with the three of them just barely managing to cope with everything that the Rift throws at them, and she’d been looking forward to some downtime. Instead, she’d had to phone him on their way out of the police station, and inform him that she probably wouldn’t be back at all tonight.
It’s not forever, though. Soon they’ll find someone else, they have to. She’s not sure how long they can continue like this, just the three of them, knows it’s only too long before they’re forced to overstretch themselves so far that something snaps…
She shakes her head. Pull yourself together woman.
“Ianto?” Jack speaks, tapping the Bluetooth in his ear. “That’s us here. Did our masculine maiden’s story check out?”
Gwen listens for Ianto’s response. While she and Jack had made some further inquiries at the police station (to not much avail) and then headed out to where their missing person had vanished, Ianto had taken Jennifer back to the Hub to verify her story through the use of a piece of tech Jack had proclaimed to be the ‘best lie detector on the planet’.
“She got the green light.” Ianto confirms. “That enough for you?”
Gwen sees Jack shrug, his shoulders moving beneath the heavy fabric of his coat.
“It’s the best verification we can get. It would take something special to fool that machine into giving a false result.” Right after the words leave his mouth Jack frowns, as if trying to remember something that’s hovering in some dim corner of his mind, just out of reach. Gwen makes a mental note to ask about it later.
“So, what are we looking for?” She asks out loud, addressing both of them. Ianto replies.
“According to Jennifer, they were in The Walkabout having a drink. They left the pub together and were walking home. Near the junction to Caroline Street she says she was aware of a strange feeling, like someone walking across her grave.”
Jack cuts in with a dramatic sigh. “That saying makes no sense. It’s not like you can feel it, six feet underground.”
“Right. Of course.” Ianto pauses. “I’ll trust in your expertise. I don’t really feel any urge to do the necessary research, I’m afraid. Anyway, she turned to tell her husband of the strange sensation, but he had vanished. So…you probably want to take a look around at that junction, see if you spot anything.”
“And maybe the pub they were in too?” Gwen suggests. “Something in the drinks?”
Jack nods. “It’s a possibility. Although you’d expect that this would have happened to more people, if that was the case. Still, doesn’t hurt to cover all bases!” He slaps his hands down on his legs, before grabbing the key from the ignition and opening the door. “Where do you have Jennifer now, Ianto?” he asks as he steps out onto the street. Gwen follows his example, stepping out into the cool of the night.
“She was hungry, so I picked up some Chinese on the way back. She’s eating it in the boardroom.”
Gwen’s stomach makes a loud rumble at the mention of food, and Jack grins at her, making her blush in embarrassment, before his tone turns commanding.
“Right. I want you to run through some tests with her. We need to know if she’s got her own memories, or if it’s just her consciousness that’s been placed in this body. Oh, and leave your earpiece switched on, incase we need to contact each other.”
“Of course.” Ianto replies, the hint of a grin apparent in his tone. “Right on it.”
“Do you know what I don’t get?” Gwen ponders, as they walk down the street, having to dodge the odd drunkard. In an odd way, it reminds her of nights on the beat. Not that she misses it. Well, not that part of the job, anyway.
Jack glances at her. “What?”
“Well, she didn’t notice that she was in his body until she got to the police station, right? But surely you would. I mean, if I suddenly turned into Rhys…”
Jack smirks. “Please don’t.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” Then she suddenly stops. “Oh Christ, I’ve just jinxed it, haven’t I? It’ll happen now.”
Jack takes her arm, starting her walking again. “Gwen Cooper, you are far too beautiful for me to allow that.”
She can’t help but smile at the compliment, even as she elbows him lightly. “Oi, Rhys is handsome. Just because you go for the pretty boys.”
“Oh!” Jack exclaims dramatically. “It’s just as well Ianto isn’t listening any more. He’d be hurt.”
“Nonsense. He more than anyone knows what you’re like. And it’s a compliment, really.”
Jack grins.
“To him, not you.” Gwen clarifies. “Anyway, as I was saying, I think I’d notice if I was suddenly a bloke. I’d just be…different…I wouldn’t think I’d need to look in a mirror to know that.”
Jack shrugs. “Her husband had just gone missing. She was probably in too much shock to notice much beyond that fact.”
Gwen thinks for a moment of that horrible time, more than a year ago now, when Rhys had been lying on the Torchwood autopsy table, dead. She remembers the shock and the grief flooding her senses, remembers her thoughts ceasing to be more than a list of ways to get him back, because he couldn’t be gone, just couldn’t, not Rhys, not her link to a comfortable, normal life. She swallows.
“You’re right. I suppose you don’t think too clearly when someone you love is in danger.”
Jack nods, and they walk in silence for a moment, both lost in thoughts of love and loss, the air thick around them, weighed down by the past and all those possible futures stretching out before them. Gwen can’t contemplate more than months ahead, not really, everything blurs and seems so very uncertain when she tries to think in periods of years. It used to be so easy, to look ahead and see herself in five years time, married to Rhys, hopefully with a couple of children, maybe moving out of their small flat into something a bit larger, a bit more homely. She can’t see that future now. Sometimes she misses it.
“Right.” Jack stops dead at the street corner. Across the road from them is a pub, Kitty Flynns, and on their side of the road there’s a shuttered down retail unit with a ‘for let’ sign. “This is where it happened.” He strides forward a couple of steps, taking an atmospheric reader from an inside coat pocket, shielding it from the view of any passers-by with his coat. He frowns at it, walking a small way down Caroline Street, before turning and returning to where Gwen stands.
“Anything?” She asks.
“Some very strange readings. Especially…” he steps forward, placing one hand against the shuttered shop window before crouching down, “…here. There was a huge expulsion of C02, and some elements I’ve never even seen before.” He breathes in, pushing himself back up.
Gwen raises her eyebrows. “Reckon it’s got something to do with this body-swapping business then?”
He frowns. “Possibly.” He presses the button on his Bluetooth. “Ianto?”
Ianto’s response is almost immediate. “Yes Jack.”
“How are things your end?”
“Oh…ticking over. Feel a bit like I’m hosting ‘This is Your Life’”
Gwen snorts. “Have you got a secret guest? You always need a secret guest.”
“Well, I was hoping you might get me her husband. That would do.”
“We’re working on it.” Jack promises. “How’s her memory check out?”
“It’s….confused. Bits and pieces of hers, some of his. Also, she doesn’t seem able to differentiate between the two.”
Jack nods, considering. “I’d thought that might be the case. It’s difficult to do a clean switch, and I’ve got a feeling…” He trails off, and Gwen gives him a look, prompting him to continue. Instead, he switches tack.
“Ianto, I’m going to give you the number of a letting agency.”
“And I thought you liked living in the Hub.” Ianto comments blandly.
Jack looks heavenward. “It’s for the retail unit on the corner of Caroline Street. It seems to be empty, but I’m not so sure. I want you to find out if there’s anyone renting the place off the books. Tell them whatever you have to to get it out of them. National security, spies, whatever, as long you get the information.”
“Oh fun. Causing unnecessary panic. I’ll get right on it.”
Despite his dry tone, Gwen thinks that the statement might not be quite as sarcastic as it seems. Ianto loves the ‘secret agent’ type stuff, she knows fine well. He’d been in a good mood for weeks after that time they’d had to pretend to be MI6 agents in order to investigate some funny goings on over in Swansea, not to mention the time she’d walked into the firing range once just in time to hear him proclaim “The name’s Jones, Ianto Jones” as he aimed at a Weevil target. She hadn’t been able to stop giggling for a good half hour after that one, Ianto had not been impressed.
“Thanks.” Jack taps the Bluetooth again, ending the communication, before clapping his hands together and addressing Gwen.
“Up for a spot of breaking and entering, milady?”
Gwen grins. “It would be my pleasure, dear sir.”
* * * * *
“So, do you lot work for the government or something?”
Ianto puts the phone down, very nearly jumping out of his skin at the voice sounding right behind his shoulder, but, thankfully for his reputation, just managing to keep his composure. He turns slightly, so that the other man is within his line of sight. Of course, he probably shouldn’t be thinking of him as a man, given that Jack’s lie detector gizmo pretty much proved that, despite appearances, he is in fact female. But then again, the body is male…which of those should dictate what he thinks of Jennifer as? He pauses, imagining Jack doing one of his ‘you people and your constant need to label everything’ spiels.
“Uh…” He gives Jennifer what he hopes is a reassuring smile “Not exactly. We get our authority from the Queen, strictly speaking, but we don’t really answer to anyone.”
“Oh.” Jennifer blinks, and Ianto wonders for a moment if that was one of those questions that you shouldn’t actually answer. Oh well, he shrugs, she’ll have to be retconned anyway, once they get her back in her own body. He rubs the back of his neck, pulling up CCTV footage on the screen in front of him.
“Do you think they’ll manage to find him?” Jennifer asks, sounding small and naïve despite the gravely, rough voice.
Ianto gives her a quick smile. “They’ll do their best.” He really is awful at being reassuring. He wishes that Gwen were here. He’s altogether too realistic to be good at this.
“What if, what if they’ve done something to him? If he’s not himself anymore, if they’ve…swapped him again with someone…or something? What then?”
Ianto closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he places a hand lightly on Jennifer’s shoulder, barely touching.
“If there’s any way at all that James can be saved, Jack and Gwen will do it.” He promises, knowing that it’s the truth, despite the sick feeling in his chest. They couldn’t have saved Lisa, couldn’t have returned her to the woman that she was. He has to be sure of that.
Jennifer nods sadly, accepting his answer. “Thanks…however it turns out, I want you to know that I really am grateful.” Ianto blinks, slightly stunned for some reason.
“You’re welcome.”
She smiles then, reedy thin and unconvincing. “I saw this week’s ‘Heat’ on one of the desks through there. I wouldn’t mind trying to distract myself with Britney’s latest antics, if you don’t mind? I’ll just be on the sofa.”
“Of course. No problem. I’ll call you if the world starts ending.” Jennifer goes slightly pale. “Not that it’s likely to.” Ianto adds, hurriedly. “Sorry. You work here too long, you get flippant about these things.”
Thick eyebrows rise incredulously. “The end of the world?”
“It’s not exactly your average day job.” Ianto concedes.
Jennifer shakes her head, before wandering off to find Gwen’s magazine, muttering under her breath as she goes. “And I thought swapping bodies with my husband would be the most surprising part of my day…”
* * * * *
Jack pushes open the door quietly, stalking into the shop with what he regards as a high level of stealth, Gwen following after. He slowly draws his gun, keeping it raised, flicking his aim between the many shadows in the large, dark room.
There’s a small ‘click’ from behind him, and the room flickers into light.
“There. Much better.”
He gives Gwen a look, which she returns unashamedly.
“The windows are all shuttered, so no one can see us from outside. We might as well have the lights on, as much as I know you like stumbling about in the dark.”
Jack smirks, then sighs.
“Looks like we’ve hit a dead end.”
The shop is an empty shell, stripped of everything save for a few metal shelves against one wall and a couple of desks. Dust is scattered across every surface, and it looks as though the place has been out of use for some time.
“We might as well take a bit of a look around, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”
“Maybe we’ll have better luck in the pub?” Gwen suggests.
Jack frowns, thinking about the strange readings he’d got outside this building. He’d kind of been expecting to step straight into some nefarious laboratory of sorts. To find instead that they were back to square one, well, it was irritating, to say the least.
“Maybe.” He replies, noncommittal, before wandering over to one of the desks, opening the drawers in turn and looking inside. Gwen goes over to another, and does the same, and he has the feeling that she will find exactly the same as him. Absolutely nothing. Well, not quite nothing. Three blank tax return forms and a takeaway menu from down the road, but nothing connected to strange disappearances and people swapping bodies.
He’s just getting the atmospheric reader back out of his pocket to do a sweep of the room, when Ianto’s voice comes in on his Bluetooth.
“Jack.”
“Ianto, am I glad to hear those beautiful Welsh vowels! Please tell me that you’ve found something.”
“I think I might have, yes.”
Jack straightens, listening in interest, noticing Gwen do the same a couple of metres away, her brow furrowed in attention to Ianto’s words.
“It took some doing, but I finally managed to get out of the letting agency that they actually let out this place last week. The customer came in to their office and paid a large sum in cash for the place. He also asked for them to leave the ‘for let’ sign up outside the shop.”
“Sounds like they didn’t want to be disturbed.” Gwen ponders.
“Yup. The bloke didn’t give them his name either, just said that they’d be needing the place for a month and would clear out after that point.”
“Smart guy. Paying in cash, not giving a name. Leaves us no trail to follow.”
“Ah, but I took the liberty of accessing the letting office’s CCTV for that day. I went through it, and at the time the deal took place, there was only one customer in the shop, and you got a good look at his face on the way out.”
Ianto pauses, and Jack gets the vague impression that he’s pretty darn pleased with himself.
“I managed to match him up against the computer databases. He’s called Collin Rhine, and he was reported missing last Friday.”
Jack grins. “Good work Ianto. Sounds like whoever did this to James and Jennifer has been taking some of their mixed up bodies out on loan.”
He looks over at Gwen, who’s glancing around the empty shop, obviously thinking along the same lines as him. If someone was willing to go to such lengths to get this place and to keep it secret, it can’t be as abandoned as it seems.
“Ianto, would you be able to find a plan of this place?” Gwen asks, frowning.
“Of course, just give me a moment.”
“How’s Jennifer?” Gwen asks, as Ianto finds the information.
“Fine. Perusing the intricacies of Brad and Angelina’s private lives, I think. She found one of your magazines.” Gwen smiles.
“I’m glad that someone’s getting some use out of them, I only buy them for the crosswords.”
“Okay, got the plans. I’ll send them to your PDA, Jack. If you don’t have any more tests or anything you want me to run, I think I’ll run Jennifer back to her home. We can contact her if we find out anything else, and it will be safer than the Hub.” He pauses. “Plus, if Myfanwy has to spend much longer cooped up in that cage we’ll have a very angry pteranodon on our hands.”
“Great.” Jack’s PDA bleeps, and he pulls it from his pocket. “Okay, take her home. We don’t have to worry about Retcon just now, no one’s going to believe her story, we saw that at the police station.”
“Right. Will do. Bye for now.”
The line goes dead and Jack gestures with one hand for Gwen to come and look at the plans that Ianto has sent. When she gets close enough to see, he points at a section of the plan with one finger.
“Quite some basement they’ve got.”
Gwen nods. “Bet you a fiver there’s something alien down there?”
“Come on, you know that Owen’s the only one that ever fell for that one.”
Gwen smiles at him, with only a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I must have made fifty quid over the years. He never did learn.” She looks around, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Ah, there we go.” She points towards the far corner, where the faint outline of a trapdoor can be seen, almost unnoticeable unless you know what you’re looking for.
“So..” she ventures, as they walk towards it. “Are we going in guns blazing, or scoping out the area?”
Jack kneels down next to the trapdoor, digging his fingers into the slight hole in the wood that acts as a handle.
“We’ll play it by ear. Wouldn’t want to leave Ianto out if we’ve got a proper fight on our hands.”
Gwen snorts. “Of course not, he’d never forgive us.”
Jack lifts the trapdoor up in one fluid movement and pauses for a moment, peering downwards. There’s steep concrete stairs leading down underneath the shop, lit by a warm, flickering light from below.
“I’ll go down first. If everything’s fine, I’ll call you and you can join me.”
Gwen nods slightly reluctantly, and Jack heads down the stairs, trying his hardest to make his footsteps silent as he descends. He stops a couple of steps from the bottom, whilst he’s still hidden from view, the light from the large wood stove in the centre of the basement not quite reaching him. He sinks down into a crouch, exhaling slowly at the sight before him. There are two large cages, one on each side of the room, both full of people. There must be at least ten in each cage, some huddling into one another in fear, some standing in shocked silence, others trying in vain to communicate with their counterparts in the other cage. Jack catches sight of a young woman sat apart from the others in the far cage, and recognises her from the picture Jennifer had shown them at the police station. So, that must be James then. Jack’s relieved to see that no harm seems to have come to Jennifer’s body, anyway. Given the trauma of finding himself in someone else’s body and then immediately being imprisoned, it’s possible that the same can’t be said for James’ mental state, but they’ll just have to hope for the best, for him as well as for all the others who must have been subjected to the same treatment. Jack blinks, sure for a moment that he can see faint cords of light shining from one cage to the other, connecting the captives together. His gaze swims for a second, and a slow ache starts up in the back of his head. He blinks again, and tries to focus on the others in the room.
There’s five of them, three women and two men. One woman is at a desk near the stove, seeming to be doing calculations of some kind, whilst the men stand one outside each cage, preventing communication between the separated captives. The other women are making adjustments to what looks like a kind of massive, metallic resonator of sorts. What it’s for, Jack has no idea, but he has the feeling that it will be something more sinister than playing the collected hits of Britney Spears. Which is sinister enough as it is, if you ask him.
As he watches them, the women make a few final adjustments, and then stand back as the resonator starts emitting a strange, high pitched noise. It’s not so much loud as it is piercing, cutting through every other sound in the room, making everything in Jack want to run up the stairs and away. He can see the captives in the cages, cradling their heads in their hands. It must be some kind of sound torture, but why? The five outside of the cages also seem to be in pain, from the tight grimace that Jack catches a glimpse of on one guards face. Why would you design a method of torture that harm you at the same time as your victims?
Jack considers possible courses of action for a moment, as well as he is able to with the noise slicing through his thoughts. He eyes the captors warily from his position in the shadows, sizing them up. Five against one aren’t great odds, and he doesn’t really fancy coming back to life locked up in one of those cages. Also, given the number of captives, there’s a worrying likelihood that this might turn into a rather nasty hostage scenario. With reluctance, Jack begins to slowly, quietly back his way up the stairs. If worse comes to worst, he’ll have to call Ianto and the three of them will attempt a rescue, although he hopes that they can come up with a plan where the odds aren’t quite as stacked up against them.
When he reaches the top of the stairs, he slowly pushes the trapdoor up, his head emerging into the shop above. The sudden bright light makes him see vibrant colours bursting into life behind his eyes, as the throbbing pain in his head from earlier grows into something gnawing and vicious. He’s dimly aware of a large figure standing in front of him, but the edges of his vision are all blurred. He’s forced to close his eyes, just for a moment, gasping in air, trying to rid himself of whatever’s come over him.
His eyes fly back open though as the distinct sound of a gunshot sounds over and above the painful ringing that still emanates from below. The room seems different from before, not in the least due to the portly man lying on the floor in front of him, bleeding from the shoulder. There’s a gun on the floor besides him, and his fingers seem to be trying to reach for it without much success, hampered by the pain that’s drained his face of its colour and left him breathing in tight gasps.
Poor bastard, Jack thinks. But, then again, from the looks of it, he’d been ready to shoot them, which makes him somewhat less of a victim in Jack’s eyes. Gwen must have fired the shot, hidden out of sight when she’d heard the man coming and then used Jack’s appearance as a distraction. Jack frowns, glad that the man hadn’t got his shot off first. He likes to avoid dying, if he can possibly help it. It might not be permanent, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt like a bitch when it happens.
Jack tries to reach for his gun in order to keep it trained on the wounded man on the floor, but suddenly finds that he can’t move his arms. Since when were his hands tied behind his back? He certainly doesn’t remember that happening, unless when thought he’d closed his eyes for a moment he’d actually passed out…which would be slightly embarrassing, and very strange, seeing as somebody would have had to tie his hands together before propping him back up on his feet before he came to consciousness. Unless the aim was to create some kind of living statue, he can’t quite see the point.
There’s another possible scenario, given the situation, but it’s something that he doesn’t really want to contemplate. But seeing as, in addition to his bound state, he’s also without his beloved coat, a good deal shorter, and perhaps most tellingly, currently staring back at himself from across the room, mouth open in shock, it’s beginning to look far too likely.
He continues staring at himself with a mixture of shock, horror, and a vague hint of amusement, before startled by a pointed cough from over near the doorway. He turns his head, and sees his body do the same thing. At the very least, he knows that he’s looking good today.
“Thought you lot were supposed to be the professionals, eh?” Jack blinks, trying to fool his eyes into admitting that they’re just playing exceptionally nasty games on his consciousness, because there by the door, holding a gun rather unprofessionally in one hand, is Cardiff’s very own PC Plod. Andy grins at him, looking quite exceptionally smug. “Good thing for your boss that I came in when I did, although just why you two are breaking into empty shops I don’t know. To be honest, I was expecting a cat to have tripped the alarm, or maybe some kids playing pranks, not Torchwood being threatened at gunpoint! Not something you see everyday.”
Jack groans and closes his eyes. Perfect, just perfect.
* * * * *
He didn’t really expect much from Torchwood, but this, well this really took the biscuit. You’d think, considering the fact that he’d just saved Captain Arrogance from, at the very least, a nasty gun shot wound, he just might get a little appreciation for once.
Nothing outlandish. Sure, something along the lines of “Andy, we fall on our knees in gratitude for your incredible bravery, you are without a doubt the best, most dynamic policeman to ever grace Cardiff’s ranks”…would have been nice, but really, a simple “cheers mate” would have done the trick just fine.
But did he get that? Oh no. Instead, the courage and valour he’d shown in saving their skin had gone pretty much unnoticed by the two of them. Harkness, well, the man had seemed as if he was in a state of shock. Slightly understandable, seeing as he’d very nearly been shot, but still, he usually acted as if he’d been a soldier in pretty much every war since the dawn of time…which was bollocks, obviously, but still, Andy hadn’t expected him to be reduced to such a state by a scare like that. It had been quite amusing, really. Jack had opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and when he had finally spoken, it had been a confused sounding “I…you…”. Then he’d loudly exclaimed “Oh, well this is just brilliant!” with more than a hint of sarcasm, before stomping out the door as if Andy wasn’t even there. Honestly, the cheek of some people.
To be honest, he expected it from Harkness though. But Gwen had been just as bad. She’d actually ordered him to take care of the injured man, not suggested, not asked, but ordered, as if Andy had no choice in the matter. So he’d been left with the clean-up, whilst those two had swanned off. It hadn’t been fun, getting the angry, swearing man into his squad car and to the hospital, and it had been an even less pleasant task convincing Swanson that the injured man needed an armed guard at all times, and explaining exactly why he'd had a gun in the first place (in a place where Roman soldiers and creatures from the deep kept emerging from the woodwork he considered keeping armed to be a necessary evil.) They’d eventually come to what she’d called a compromise, and Andy privately considered to be anything but. There would be a guard at the hospital….one PC Andy Davidson. And she'd confiscated his gun.
He sighs, tapping his pen thoughtfully against the paper in front of him in a rhythm somewhat resembling the theme from ‘Star Wars’. He was willing to bet his uniform that no members of Torchwood were currently sitting bored out of their skulls outside a hospital room, trying halfheartedly to fill in a pointless and longwinded form regarding the discharge of an unauthorised weapon at a premises on St Mary Street earlier. No, they were probably having a right lark fannying about with alien blasters or something. He pauses writing, as he hears raised American and Welsh tones from inside the room. ‘Something’ was evidently ‘yelling at their injured and semi-conscious would-be assailant’ then. Andy folds up the form and puts it and the pen into his jacket pocket. They must have sneaked in when he’d gone to grab a coffee, the sneaky sods.
He clicks the ‘on’ button on his walkie-talkie.
“John, been told that Swanson wants you down at the hospital pronto.” he lies, quite convincingly, even if he does say so himself. He responds to the non-committal grumbling he gets in response by lowering his tone conspiratorially.
“She’s got a right bee in her bonnet over this one - on the warpath, so she is. I wouldn’t like to be the one to get on her bad side today, that’s for sure.”
He grins, as his colleague’s grumbles promptly turn into hurried assertions that he will be there as fast as is humanly possible. He will be as well, everyone knows better than to mess with Swanson when she’s in a mood.
Everyone except Andy, apparently, seeing as he’s technically deserting his post, and giving out fake orders in her name. He gulps, but before he can dwell too long on the truly monumental bollocking he’s likely to get, Gwen and then Jack stride straight past him.
“Hey, Harkness!”
Jack completely ignores him, but Gwen stops, turning towards him slightly before calling out to her boss, sounding vaguely amused.
“I think PC Davidson here wants your attention, Jack.”
That does the trick, and Jack halts, turning around to face him with a frown that, strangely enough, softens into something more friendly upon seeing Andy there.
“Andy! You know, I’m so sorry about earlier, it was just all a bit of a shock-“
Gwen coughs pointedly, and Jack glances at her before continuing.
“-but I’m afraid we can’t hang about, we’ve got to-“
“No way mister.” Andy stands up from his seat in the hospital hallway. “I shot someone for you two, I think that deserves at least some cooperation.”
He stares levelly at first Jack, then Gwen. Jack nods, reluctantly, even as Gwen shakes her head.
“No way.”
Jack looks at her.
“He is right, Jack…“ he pauses for a second, eyes wide “…is grateful.” His voice rises at the end of the last word, and he looks distinctly nervous. Andy glances at Gwen.
“Just out of curiosity, does your boss often speak in the third person?”
Gwen grins.
“Not usually. But, y’know, I think he’s just about dashing enough to pull it off.”
Jack looks like he can’t quite decide whether to be annoyed or amused by the compliment, and Andy considers whether or not he might need to have a quiet word with Rhys at some point. But for the moment, he has bigger fish to fry than trying to dissuade Gwen from fancying Mr Americana. He claps his hands together.
“Well, I’m going to take that break into the third person as a yes.”
Gwen glares at Jack, hands on her hips, and Andy feels a flicker of annoyance and hurt that she’s still trying so hard to keep him in the dark. But it’s fleeting, because he’s pretty sure that he’s in this time, despite any protests from Gwen, and he’s got the perfect words for the occasion.
“Go on then, lead me to the Batcave.”
They both sigh and look at one another, before Gwen shrugs.
“Fine. You can come. But touch anything you're not supposed to and I’ll set a hungry pteranodon on you.”
Andy rolls his eyes.
“You know, I might actually be scared if that threat had a touch more realism, Gwen.”
Jack actually giggles, before glancing at Gwen.
“Fiver says he faints.” Andy feels his eyes widen slightly. Surely they weren’t being serious…
“Done.” Gwen nods, before turning to head off, throwing words over her shoulder at Andy when he fails to immediately follow. “Come along then, work to do.”
Andy swallows. Right. Getting to see the Torchwood base. Great.
He sighs, before jogging to catch up with them, reprimanding himself quietly.
"Bloody Nora, just what exactly have I let myself in for this time?"
PART 4