Torchwood fic: The Essence of Zhivka (Part 1 of 3)
Title: The Essence of Zhivka
Author: rustydog
Betas: donutsweeper and mad_jaks
Artist: _medley_
Characters/Pairings: Torchwood team (Owen-centric), gen, three OCs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 24,500
Warnings: child and animal endangerment, my attempts at Bulgarian phrases
Author's notes:
* Written for tw_bigbang 2010, my first ever completed Big Bang fic.
* Heaps of thanks to donutsweeper for working through this with me right through to the end, and to mad_jaks for the Mother of All Britchecks. If I could send Gypsy over to you both for hugs, I would!
* Wonderful artist _medley_ was a joy to work with, and please be sure to visit her post and leave feedback on her art!
* One of the characters in this story originated in a ficlet I wrote years ago. On the off chance that anyone remembers him, I should mention that the timeline in that ficlet has since been Russed, so I compressed it and fudged Rhodri's age a bit.
Summary: Torchwood staff find an abandoned child's toy that is a lot more than meets the eye. Meanwhile, roaming Cardiff is a mysterious man who appears to be in pursuit of the toy's owner.
Go here to download versions of this story for printing or offline reading (PDF) and ebook readers (epub)
Link to Artist's post
Story: Part One | Part Two | Part Three
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
~The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
~~~
What is essential is invisible to the eye.
~The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
PART ONE
She knows her wool is damp. She knows the spray from the water below will form a grimy film on her hooves when it dries. She knows the boards beneath her are rough and the sky above her is cold and crusted, salt-like, with distant suns that begin to dim in the growing light of the nearest one.
She knows many things that do not matter. There is only one thing of importance: she is alone.
The quiet of dawn is broken by a creak and the thud-thud-thud vibration of the boards. Then a pair of shoes stand before her, and she is lifted far above the pier into someone's arms. They are the wrong arms. But they are something like hope.
~~~
Ianto stood outside the Tourist Information office, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. It was a crisp morning, and he liked to watch the sunlight inching down the tops of the columns in the plas, pushing away dawn's shadows. It was a rare quiet moment in a world that was too frequently insane.
His breath made puffs of white vapour that disappeared against the dark of the doorway. He decided to take a brief stroll toward the water before going underground for the day, setting his mug on the counter just inside the door before he set off.
When he was closer to the railing overlooking the bay, he noticed a small whitish bundle on the ground just on the edge of the pier. It was hard to make out at that distance: it could be some rubbish, something left by a street person or a tourist, but these days it never hurt to investigate abandoned packages. Especially in Cardiff.
He walked over, approaching cautiously, until he was able to make out-yes, those were definitely ears. He smiled faintly and shook his head. Another item for Lost Property. Under the desk in the Tourist Information office, there was a bin full of jumpers, scarves, sunglasses, and a few single gloves and earrings. It always surprised him how many conscientious people made their way to him with their found items.
The lost soul now at his feet appeared to be a toy sheep. It had a small grey nose, black button eyes, ears that drooped on either side of its head, no neck, and an enormously fat body and hind legs, floppy forelegs and black "hooves." He picked it up by a front leg, being careful not to hold it against his suit when he discovered how damp it was. He would let it dry on the desk before putting it in the box.
As he walked back, he held the sheep up and inspected it more closely. The "wool" was dingy and matted. The felt fabric of its hooves was worn thin, the stuffing starting to peek out in places where the stitching was frayed. It reminded him a little of Jack's greatcoat: this sheep looked like it had seen a lot of action. It seemed a shame to dump it into the box next to a jumper that had languished there for two years now. Someone would want it back, and if it were as small a someone as he was imagining, they might not have the resources to contact him.
He could probably find something on the CCTV of the plas from yesterday, and with Tosh's help a face might lead to an address. Thus, the damp sheep accompanied Ianto down into the Hub.
~ BULGARIA, one year earlier ~
Nelly veered off the cobbled street and stopped in a doorway to adjust the shopping bags she was carrying. She had put milk and apples in one and bread and onions in the other, and they needed re-balancing. She sighed as she swapped the bread and the apples. She hadn't thought it would take her so many months to learn all the tricks to something as simple doing the shopping.
Now the bag with the milk was not as heavy. She stood and continued toward home. They couldn't really afford fresh milk, but Sofie was growing so fast...
Just before she crossed the road to enter the narrow street where they lived, she heard several dogs barking in the distance. Turning toward the sound, her eyes were drawn to the hill above their neighbourhood. On the side of the hill was a pear orchard. She couldn't see the dogs-but there was something there. A smudge among the still-bare trees, a dark shape... a man? The shape lengthened, became taller, as if it were standing up, and Nelly could imagine it now as a man with a wide-brimmed hat. A man in black, with a lumpy shape on his back. The shape shifted again, and suddenly Nelly felt as if it could see her.
Her skin prickled and she felt cold inside.
Then she shook her head, admonishing herself for her silliness, and walked on. Since her mother had died, Nelly felt she had changed. She was braver: she went to the shops on her own, she borrowed eggs from the neighbours, she took Sofie to the childminder and picked her up every day after she'd finished school. She cooked whole meals when she had barely trusted herself with a hot kettle before.
But she also worried about things she hadn't even been aware of a year ago. Buses in pedestrian crossings. Child-stealers. Dirt in food that could make people sick. Blood clots that lodged in people's brains.
One thing she shouldn't be afraid of, she told herself, was a man from a children's story. Torbalan was not real and he could not harm her.
When she stepped into the house and called hello to her father, Sofie came running and threw her arms around Nelly's waist. "Say hello to Zhivka!" she insisted, holding up her toy sheep.
Sofie hadn't been old enough to really understand, when their mother died. She had been affected by the bustle in the house and the adults acting strangely and saying her mummy was not coming back. Nelly had held her while she bawled for hours, for days, but Sofie would not be comforted. Only when someone brought a toy, a fluffy sheep, had Sofie allowed herself to be distracted. From that time on she and Zhivka had been inseparable. As she became more talkative, Sofie spoke to Zhivka as if the sheep were alive. Alone with her inanimate friend, she would chatter for half the day. For Nelly, it had been a great relief.
Nelly smiled, lifted the toy, and kissed it on the nose.
Everything was fine.
~~~
But there were still times when she became frightened. Once, she was walking Sofie to the childminder's house before school. When they turned in to the narrow street where Mrs. Katzarov lived, Sophie took two steps and froze. Nelly looked at her, then followed her stare to the end of the street where a black-clothed figure was lurking. His back was to them, but his wide brimmed hat was distinctive.
Instead of moving quickly foward, hurrying Sofie into Mrs. Katzarov's doorway, Nelly grabbed the little girl's arm and pulled her back around the corner in the direction from which they had come. Her heart sank when Sofie dropped Zhivka, and they had to sneak back around the corner to retrieve her. Then they walked homewards until they reached a corner shop, and she let Sophie choose a sweet while Nelly caught her breath.
They didn't try to return to Mrs. Katzarov's house that day. When Sofie asked about it, Nelly laughed as brightly as she could manage and said, "Silly me, I forgot that my school is closed today! Would you like to go to the park?" They spent the morning swinging and watching ducks. In reality, Sofie chased ducks while Nelly fretted.
Finally she decided to bring up the strange incident from that morning, so that she could reassure her sister.
"Sofie," she said evenly when the tired girl was sitting on a bench next to her, "before I remembered about my school's holiday this morning, did you see something that made you afraid?"
Sofie adjusted her sheep so that it fitted more comfortably under her arm, then frowned. "Zhivka was afraid first. I saw a man, then she was scared, then I was scared."
"Did Zhivka tell you she was scared? Does she talk to you?" Nelly wasn't sure she should be worrying about two things at once, but now she didn't know how to break the incident down into its various concerns. Which was worse, that Sofie was conversing with an inanimate object, or that she had seemed to sense danger?
Sofie giggled. "She doesn't talk. But I know. I just know how she feels."
Well, that wasn't so bad, Nelly hoped. "You don't need to be scared, okay? Zhivka probably just made a mistake and thought she saw something."
Sofie nodded then looked up at Nelly, her eyes shining again. "Can we get another sweet on the way home?"
And that was that, for awhile.
There were other things to be concerned with. One day while Nelly was walking Sofie home after school, Sofie asked, "Where did Mummy go?"
Nelly was holding her sister's hand as they walked, and it took a strong effort not to stop abruptly and possibly jerk Sofie's arm. She kept walking, composed herself for a few seconds, and asked Sofie calmly, "Do you remember we talked about this before? Maichitze went to heaven, agne." She used their mother's pet name for Sofie.
"Teodor says heaven isn't real. He says mummies and daddies go away when they don't like you anymore."
"Well, I'm sorry for Teodor, but your mummy loved you very much. She didn't want to go away."
"Can we visit her? Can we fly there?" Sofie's face was so hopeful, Nelly had to look away. It hurt too much.
"Aeroplanes don't travel to heaven, agne."
After Sofie was asleep that night, Nelly lay in the dark and cried more than she had in a long time. She was careful to be quiet.
~~~
Over the next two weeks, Sofie kept asking questions. She also cried in her sleep and woke up calling for her mother. She didn't understand why Mummy wouldn't come back. Nelly began sleeping in Sofie's bed so that she could comfort her quickly and quietly, before Father woke up. He was too tired from work, and too sad, Nelly thought. He didn't need more trouble.
Nelly assumed it would just be a short phase, but whatever was bothering Sofie didn't seem to be going away. If anything, it was getting worse. Of course she was sad about her mother. But she had only just turned five - did little children grieve that much? Did they claim that their toys were afraid? Nelly didn't know what to do or who to consult for advice.
So she went to the library. The school didn't have the kind of books she needed, and she was embarrassed to ask the librarian there anyway. She arranged with Mrs. Katzarov for Sofie to stay longer one day, and took the 30-minute bus ride from her school to the main city library.
She began by looking for books on child psychology, but those were hard to read and didn't seem to have chapters with the practical advice she was looking for. On her second trip into the public access halls, she happened to walk past a section of books on mythology and folk tales. The titles were mysterious and referenced exciting sounding names from many countries.
Nelly stopped. Torbalan was a folk tale, or so she had thought.
So her research shifted. In the books she had time to look at, she only found one reference to Torbalan, but it seemed there were other creatures like him in other countries.
It wasn't useful information, but in a twist of luck, the fairy tales led her to what she'd come for in the first place. One book had a chapter on folk customs surrounding death, and in one illustration, Japanese mourners floated candles on little paper boats out into a lake. The boats carried messages to the dead, the book explained.
So when she got off the bus in her neighbourhood and headed to Mrs. Katzarov's to fetch Sofie, Nelly was carrying only one book: an instruction manual on how to fold paper into shapes like birds and dragons and many other things. That night, with pages of her father's newspaper, she taught herself to fold boats.
~~~
Nelly promised Sofie that they would send a message to Mummy in heaven. She made some tiny "messengers," dolls of bundled thread like their springtime martenitsa, but instead of the traditional red and white, she let Sofie choose the colors. Sofie chose yellow and green because she said it looked like mummy's favourite dress. Nelly knew that dress. It was hanging in the closet, and once in awhile, Nelly would stand in the dark room and press it to her face. It still smelled faintly of perfume.
On a Saturday evening, they walked to the park and knelt next to the duck pond. Nelly held Zhivka in one arm and supported her sister with the other as the little girl leaned over the water, dropping in two boats. They nestled tiny candles inside them, and very gently, Sofie set the green and yellow dolls into the boats as well. Nelly lit the candles carefully and gave each boat a gentle shove, and then they watched as the boats drifted out into the lake, glowing in the gathering dark. The boats floated out smoothly for a minute, then began to rock in the ripples of a goose paddling by. When Nelly noticed the water beginning to saturate the paper at the bottom of the boat, she took Sofie's hand and they began to walk slowly toward home. Two stars had come out. Sofie squeezed her hand. Looking at her, Nelly thought she hadn't seen her sister's face look so peaceful.
Sofie gave a little gasp and pointed toward the sky, where a tiny silver speck was climbing through the blue. "Maybe it's our messages going to heaven!" she said, bouncing.
Nelly nodded. "Maybe." She knew that what they were seeing was an aeroplane, reflecting the light of the setting sun. She wished it were that easy, sending messages on a plane. She squeezed Sofie's hand and they kept walking.
"What was your message, Nelly?"
"Um, just... goodbye, and I love you." And 'why did you leave us'... "What was yours?"
"I said I miss you, and thank you for my sheep."
"Agne, you know Mummy didn't give you Zhivka, don't you?"
"I know, but it's from her. Zhivka feels like Mummy."
Nelly didn't believe in souls anymore. If there were such a thing, she would be able to feel her mother watching her from heaven. But if it helped Sofie, it helped, she supposed.
~~~
That night was the first peaceful one they'd had in a long time. Sofie didn't cry herself to sleep, and she didn't wake in the night. Nelly felt her body relaxing, muscle by muscle relinquishing its watchfulness, until by early morning she was practically a puddle of relief. She drifted off watching the shadow of a branch moving slightly in the breeze outside their bedroom window.
She was sunk deep in sleep, impossibly lost in the murk of a dream when a scream jerked her awake. She sat up and instantly felt so dizzy that she thought she might throw up, but she managed to feel for the lamp beside the bed and switch it on.
Sofie was still lying beside her. The little girl hadn't even woken; she was breathing quickly, moving in her sleep, clutching Zhivka tightly, but she was still asleep. This was a new thing, screaming in her sleep. Nelly sighed and switched off the lamp.
She still felt too sick to lie down, so she sat until her eyes adjusted to the dark. Then she realized it wasn't quite as dark as she had expected - there was grey in the sky and she could see out of the window.
Grey, and... a gleam, two bright points, almost like... eyes? She was imagining things.
But no, there was a darker shape against the grey sky. Nelly traced the outline with her eyes: broad, almost lumpy at the base, narrowing in the middle like a neck, then flaring out near the top, exactly like - a hat's brim. Barely daring to breathe, Nelly got out of bed, felt along the wall for the broom handle Sofie used as a horse, and tiptoed toward the window.
She raised her arms, ready to strike with the stick if necessary, and just then the head turned and Nelly could clearly see the reflection of sky in the eyes. Then they were gone, the figure disappearing like mist in the dawn.
Knowing she would not sleep again, Nelly went to the kitchen and quietly made herself some tea. She had breakfast ready by the time her father was awake. She had made her decision: she had to tell Father about the Torbalan. If he thought she was being silly, fine, but she couldn't keep it from him any longer.
Once he had drunk half of his tea and was stirring his yoghurt, Nelly opened her mouth to speak.
At the same time, Father looked up at her. "Dŭshtery," he said, "I have something to tell you."
Nelly closed her mouth.
"I've got a new job, but it's far away. Our papers came through this week. We're moving to England."
Nelly didn't know what to say.
"Won't that be nice? To get away from here? A new life?"
Nelly wanted to protest, But I like our home here. It still feels like Mummy here. But then she thought of the terror in the night, the way fear sat in her stomach all the time lately, Sofie's unconscious scream still ringing in her ears... right now it felt more important than even the precious, lingering presence of her mother. Surely they would be safe in another country.
She smiled at Father. "It will be nice."
~ CARDIFF ~
Indoors. Down. Underground. The hands are large and hold her not by a single front hoof, allowing her tail to bump the ground, but firmly around the back of the neck and with a hand under the rump. She can hear fresh water and feel it in the air.
Suddenly, a SHRIEKING ALARM, shouting, running feet and she is dropped. She knows cold water is soaking the wool on her head and front and seeping into her belly. Eventually, the alarm is silenced, the feet above her still, she is lifted dripping from the pool, back in the large hands. An object with blue lights is thrust near her head, waved around her body. She is wrapped in thick cloth and squeezed dry. Faces hover near hers. Speaking. She is the centre of attention.
She is still alone.
~~~
"First of all, can I say it?" Owen was unable to contain his smirk. "Ianto, I knew you would have a teddy bear. I just didn't think you'd start bringing it to work."
Ianto glanced at the toy now sitting on a towel at Tosh's workstation. "I... believe it's a sheep. And-" he continued quickly, anticipating the tiresome Welsh joke coming next, "I hate to disappoint you, but it was outside the tourist information office this morning. I just thought we could return it to its owner."
"I think it's sweet, Ianto," Tosh said without looking round, still busy analysing readings from her scans of the object.
"Yeah, sweet. It sets off an incursion alarm and scans as an alien life form. It's the sweetest teddy bear I've ever seen."
"Sheep," Gwen and Tosh corrected Owen in unison.
Jack appeared in the doorway of his office. "I don't care if it's a bear or a sheep or a plush syphilis microbe, I want to know how it's also managing to be an alien. Tosh, let me know as soon as you find something in that data. Ianto?"
Ianto nodded. "I'll check the archives for mentions of... life forms inhabiting Earth objects, I suppose?"
"Thank you," Jack said. "Owen, we need something to contain it if it decides 'wet stuffed sheep' isn't a fun place to live. And Gwen-"
"We need to find out where it came from," she finished for him. "I'll start checking CCTV footage of the plas from yesterday."
"Good," Jack nodded. "I don't like it when aliens walk into my Hub."
On his way down the stairs, Ianto heard Owen mutter, "Or get carried in by staff," then the sound of a sheaf of papers smacking someone on the head.
~~~
Ianto stood in the archive library, scanning spines. He didn't know precisely which book he was looking for, but he knew the year. When he found the right section, he used his handkerchief to whip away dust from the spine and tops of the pages before removing a volume from the shelf, and made a mental note to increase the frequency of this room on his cleaning schedule. Opening the first book, he took a moment to breathe deeply. The yellowed pages and leather binding smelled like his grandfather.
It was only five minutes before he returned to the main level of the Hub, another brown leather volume open in his hands.
"I found something from the seventies," he announced.
Tosh looked up and tilted her head toward him with a puzzled frown. "Haven't we scanned in everything in the archives from 1925 and after?"
"Everything but the smell of old books," he nodded to her with a small smile. "With respect, it does seem a pity to lose the tactile experience of pages."
Of course, leaving an opening for a suggestive comment was a guarantee that Jack would appear at the same moment.
"Hey, if you want a tactile experience, all you have to do is ask!"
Ianto ignored Jack. "I remembered that someone in 1972 undertook writing an alien bestiary of sorts, and since we haven't got the database thoroughly tagged yet, this may have been faster. See if this fits our wet friend." He lifted the book again, and read aloud.
"Have found that certain daily objects give off readings indicating alien activity or possession. These tend to be objects of personal or emotional significance to the owner. Types of objects testing positive include personal vehicles, items of clothing, children's toys, certain tools, and one weapon. Owners of the objects, when made aware of the readings, report having felt a 'presence' in the object in question. However, we can find no evidence of danger and suspect there is not a high cognitive component to the alien being, whatever it is. In fact, readings cease after a period of separation from the owner. No Rift activity observed in relation to this phenomenon. Based on readings, the possibility of it being technology-based is low. More research needed."
Ianto snapped the book shut. "And it's marked 'low priority.'"
"Well, that's some comfort, I suppose," Tosh said. "I'm sorry, all I can tell from this data is that the sheep is giving off a kind of energy I can't identify, but that it does seem benign. If it's really alive, maybe Owen should have a look at it with his instruments."
Owen put down the container he had brought up and picked up the toy. "We do have much more sensitive equipment than they had in 1972," he said thoughtfully, looking the sheep in the face. "I wonder what you're thinking..."
Seeing Owen was talking to the sheep, Gwen leaned over from her workstation, caught Ianto's eye, and winked.
Jack had been silent for the last few moments, a look of concentration on his face, but now something seemed to dawn on him.
"God, how could I not think of this before? Ianto, read out the objects they tested, again?"
Ianto didn't need to open the book. "Vehicles, clothing, toys, tools, and a weapon," he recited back.
Jack nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I know this thing! I haven't thought about it in..." Centuries? Ianto wondered when Jack paused slightly. "...ah, years," Jack finished. "I didn't know Torchwood was testing them in the 70s. I don't know anything technical, but it's definitely an observed phenomenon. You've seen it yourselves, I'm sure."
"Yeah, like how?" Owen asked. He was tossing the sheep in the air and catching it almost absentmindedly.
"Well, it happens most often with children, but sometimes with adults, too. Haven't you ever been really attached to an object, emotionally? Like if you had your way, you'd be inseparable?"
"I had a doll," Gwen offered. "Sally. Carried her everywhere when I was small. I talked to her more than I did my parents, I think." She smiled at the memory. "I was heartbroken when she got lost. My dad bought me another, but it was never the same. It didn't feel like Sally."
Jack pointed an emphatic finger in the air. "That was because your second doll wasn't inhabited with one of these things." He waved a hand in the direction of the sheep, which happened to be mid-toss above Owen's head.
Gwen looked unsettled. "My doll was alive?"
Jack shrugged. "Sort of. Didn't you feel like it was?"
"Well, yeah, but-" she shook her head, "I was four years old. As far as I knew, SuperTed was real as well."
"Children are a lot smarter than adults in some ways. We lose that trust in the universe..." He shook his head, then looked around. "Anybody else? Ianto?"
Ianto coughed. "Oh, no, sir, I wasn't very fond of toys."
Owen looked up. "Somehow? That doesn't surprise me, either."
Gwen smiled at Ianto encouragingly. "You must have had something you liked, though. A ball? A book?"
Ianto looked at the catwalk above him and wished he were on it instead of here. "A blanket," he nodded. "Blue, with... ducks." To deflect attention, he turned to Owen. "And you?"
Owen grinned. "Nope, I never fell in love with any toys or blankies, thank you." When the others made doubting noises, he held up his hands defensively. The sheep dangling from one hand hurt his credibility slightly. "What? I'm serious. I did not get attached to toys. They just get lost or thrown out, anyway, there's no point."
He tossed the sheep again, but Gwen had risen and stepped over to him, and she intercepted it mid-air and tossed it to Ianto, who caught it by the ear with one hand. "It might be alive, you twat," she told him. "It's probably ill by now!"
Jack shook his head. "I doubt it feels things physically the way we do. All I know is that supposedly there are these creatures, they seek out treasured objects, and it sounds like it has something to do with emotional energy. Which can be pretty powerful stuff, as you know."
Tosh had been watching her computer screen throughout the conversation, but now she turned around with an uncomfortable look on her face. "Ianto," she leaned toward him slightly, "you said Torchwood found these things in clothing?"
Ianto nodded. "'Items of clothing,' it said."
Tosh squirmed visibly. "So my shirt could be alive? Jack?"
Jack chuckled. "Are you emotionally attached to your shirt? Like you never want to take it off?" When Tosh shook her head, he reassured her, "You're fine. It's probably rare in items of clothing anyway. Maybe a hat or scarf someone wears all the time."
Ianto would have liked to pursue the topic of Jack's greatcoat, but just then Gwen was asking Jack about his own personal experience with the phenomenon.
"Toy ship," Jack answered.
"What kind of ship would that be, Sir?" Ianto asked.
This time, Jack ignored him. "Even brought it to school with me, I just felt better when I had it with me." He smiled a little sadly, then shifted back to the present. "Well, I agree with Torchwood 1972, there's probably zero danger, but I'd feel better knowing a little more about this, since we have the opportunity. Owen?"
"As soon as I get the test subject back, boss," Owen replied, holding out his hands ready to catch a pass from Gwen. Instead, Gwen walked the sheep over and placed it gently in Owen's arm.
~~~
She is carried downward again, a few steps farther below the surface of the planet.
A moment before, she had almost flown-small launches, bursts of near-flight. It is nothing like the real thing. As a larva, before she inhabited, she knew flight... she was flight. She was air and space, she soared between the stars with a cloud of her siblings, nothing more than a streak of light, feeding on motion and hope, searching for a scrap of matter, a well of love to pour herself down.
After bonding, she would never fly again. She is this body, in the centre of a hidden pool with ripples crisscrossing between her and the humanchild.
Her loneliness bubbles up and becomes pain. It has been too long. The separation might be permanent.
She is placed near machines, with some of them attached to her like snakes. Three people speak in low voices, and one of them, the one who had been launching her, speaks more than the others.
"...discrepancies... cognitive activity down here... sensory readings way up here... increasing at a constant rate... usually indicates pain... not affected by any physical stimuli... my guess is, pretty soon, this thing is going to be screaming. We just won't hear it."
The words wash over her. When she is home, she is spoken to, but those words are ripples of love. These are not spoken to her, they are meaningless. The speaking person inserts things into her stuffing and she feels nothing. Then the large hands, the ones that picked her up outside, come near, and the memory of hope flits close with them. The voices rise in pitch.
"... sensory readings dipped! Ianto, do that again!"
The people around her work amidst vapours of concentration, anxiety, excitement, and rare bursts of joy. Eventually she is given into the large hands. They are a small comfort to her, but she feels time growing short.
~~~
"That's all I can tell you, Jack." Owen was putting away cords and clamps while he spoke. "I detected energy a lot like our neural electrical impulses, so I'm going to say it's alive. It seems to respond to emotion-you saw the readings when Tosh and Gwen started laughing upstairs-and it has its preferences, inexplicable as they are." He glanced in Ianto's direction. "But it probably doesn't think much of anything, at least not in the way we would define cognitive function. And it can't be very comfortable. Question is, what do we do with that?"
"You mean do we isolate it here, or let it go?" Jack had been standing on the other side of the exam table with his hands in his pockets most of the time. Now he placed his hands on the table and leaned forward.
"Well, no, there's no 'go,' I think if it could have left the..." Owen waved his hand in the direction of Ianto, standing halfway up the autopsy room steps holding the toy, "the body of the sheep, it would have done it a long time ago. I mean... I can't find anything in bright red letters that says 'threat.' But are we sure it's not something really nasty incubating, or trying to enslave our children through toys-it could be anything and how would we know? Are we considering giving an alien back to a child?"
"It's not anything nasty." Jack shook his head. "I've seen them before, in a lot of different places, and I've never heard of any problems. I'm sorry you never experienced it before, I think that's the only way you can really understand."
"Excuse me for not having a prior relationship with a toy," Owen replied, more playful than unkind, and rolled his eyes. "I'm just being cautious, Jack. We don't even know if it came through the Rift, or what."
"Wherever it came from, it's in trouble now," Jack said thoughtfully.
"'Readings cease after a period of separation from the owner,'" Ianto quoted, finishing for Jack. "It's going to die."
~~~
The CCTV footage Gwen had found was timestamped 17:23 on the previous day and showed two girls, one aged about thirteen, one much younger and carrying the toy sheep by a front hoof, occasionally letting it drag on the ground. The older girl stopped by the rail and looked out at the water for a moment while the younger one set the sheep on the ground and squatted in front of it, looking as if she were in conversation.
"Now, their backs are mostly to the camera," Gwen narrated, "but watch, the older girl turns around... here-" and she paused the footage.
The image on the large screen in the board room wasn't very clear, but the even graininess couldn't disguise the tension on the girl's face. Owen shifted forward in his chair. "Looks like she's watching for something."
"Or someone," Jack suggested.
"As if they're being followed," Gwen agreed. "Now watch this." She continued the footage, and a second later the older girl spun back around, grabbed the younger one's arm, and jerked her to her feet, moving them both off almost at a run. The small girl twisted, trying to turn back, but the older one picked her up and carried her in her arms, out of range of the camera.
"Is there any more to that? Were you able to find them on another camera?" Jack asked, his voice more urgent than before.
"Not yet, but just wait," Gwen said, "watch the lower left there."
A few seconds later, a large, dark shape crossed the corner of the screen in the direction the girls had gone. Back where they originally had stopped, the toy sheep sat on the ground, alone. Gwen turned off the footage.
"That's it?" Owen shifted again and scowled. "What was it, a man? I don't like the look of that."
Tosh had been standing back but now stepped forward. "We haven't had time to check the other cameras that might have caught them, but the image of the older girl's face was clear enough for me to run through several databases, and I got a match at Immigration: Anelia Gavrilova. Moved to Wales with her father, who's here on a work visa. According to NHS files she made a single visit to A&E, for a bronchial infection-" Tosh held up a piece of paper about half filled with data, "and I've got an address."
"She lives in Canton, and I expect we'll find they're sisters," Gwen said. "Jack?" she turned to him, the whole question in her face.
"We're not Social Services, Gwen, you know that."
"But-Owen said it's an alien or something? We ought to at least check. God knows we've found enough aliens where we weren't looking before."
Owen nodded. "We could return the sheep, Jack. I mean, I think you were implying that earlier. Alien mercy mission and all that."
Jack nodded. "Right. I just don't want you to overstep your bounds. Don't get involved with this family, Gwen." He and Gwen locked eyes for a second longer than comfort dictated, and finally Gwen nodded back, saying nothing.
Owen pushed back his chair and stood up. "Gwen and I'll go. What street did you say, Tosh?"
"I didn't, but it's Wynne Street."
"Great, I've got a contact there I'd like to check in on anyway. We'll return the sheep and be on our way. Let's just hope our mysterious little friend makes it that long."
Gwen raised her eyebrows at him, and he filled her in, "It's not in good shape as far as I can tell. It needs to get back to its..." he searched for a word and settled on- "lover?" He spluttered. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but what would you call it?" He looked at Jack and Ianto.
"Torchwood 1972 seemed to find the term 'owner,' perfectly serviceable," Ianto said drily.
"Yeah, well, anyway, Gwen, we've gotta go." He put a hand on her back to usher her with him out of the board room with him. "Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep, and apparently it'll die without her."
Continue to Part Two
Author: rustydog
Betas: donutsweeper and mad_jaks
Artist: _medley_
Characters/Pairings: Torchwood team (Owen-centric), gen, three OCs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 24,500
Warnings: child and animal endangerment, my attempts at Bulgarian phrases
Author's notes:
* Written for tw_bigbang 2010, my first ever completed Big Bang fic.
* Heaps of thanks to donutsweeper for working through this with me right through to the end, and to mad_jaks for the Mother of All Britchecks. If I could send Gypsy over to you both for hugs, I would!
* Wonderful artist _medley_ was a joy to work with, and please be sure to visit her post and leave feedback on her art!
* One of the characters in this story originated in a ficlet I wrote years ago. On the off chance that anyone remembers him, I should mention that the timeline in that ficlet has since been Russed, so I compressed it and fudged Rhodri's age a bit.
Summary: Torchwood staff find an abandoned child's toy that is a lot more than meets the eye. Meanwhile, roaming Cardiff is a mysterious man who appears to be in pursuit of the toy's owner.
Go here to download versions of this story for printing or offline reading (PDF) and ebook readers (epub)
Link to Artist's post
Story: Part One | Part Two | Part Three
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
~The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
~~~
What is essential is invisible to the eye.
~The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
PART ONE
She knows her wool is damp. She knows the spray from the water below will form a grimy film on her hooves when it dries. She knows the boards beneath her are rough and the sky above her is cold and crusted, salt-like, with distant suns that begin to dim in the growing light of the nearest one.
She knows many things that do not matter. There is only one thing of importance: she is alone.
The quiet of dawn is broken by a creak and the thud-thud-thud vibration of the boards. Then a pair of shoes stand before her, and she is lifted far above the pier into someone's arms. They are the wrong arms. But they are something like hope.
~~~
Ianto stood outside the Tourist Information office, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. It was a crisp morning, and he liked to watch the sunlight inching down the tops of the columns in the plas, pushing away dawn's shadows. It was a rare quiet moment in a world that was too frequently insane.
His breath made puffs of white vapour that disappeared against the dark of the doorway. He decided to take a brief stroll toward the water before going underground for the day, setting his mug on the counter just inside the door before he set off.
When he was closer to the railing overlooking the bay, he noticed a small whitish bundle on the ground just on the edge of the pier. It was hard to make out at that distance: it could be some rubbish, something left by a street person or a tourist, but these days it never hurt to investigate abandoned packages. Especially in Cardiff.
He walked over, approaching cautiously, until he was able to make out-yes, those were definitely ears. He smiled faintly and shook his head. Another item for Lost Property. Under the desk in the Tourist Information office, there was a bin full of jumpers, scarves, sunglasses, and a few single gloves and earrings. It always surprised him how many conscientious people made their way to him with their found items.
The lost soul now at his feet appeared to be a toy sheep. It had a small grey nose, black button eyes, ears that drooped on either side of its head, no neck, and an enormously fat body and hind legs, floppy forelegs and black "hooves." He picked it up by a front leg, being careful not to hold it against his suit when he discovered how damp it was. He would let it dry on the desk before putting it in the box.
As he walked back, he held the sheep up and inspected it more closely. The "wool" was dingy and matted. The felt fabric of its hooves was worn thin, the stuffing starting to peek out in places where the stitching was frayed. It reminded him a little of Jack's greatcoat: this sheep looked like it had seen a lot of action. It seemed a shame to dump it into the box next to a jumper that had languished there for two years now. Someone would want it back, and if it were as small a someone as he was imagining, they might not have the resources to contact him.
He could probably find something on the CCTV of the plas from yesterday, and with Tosh's help a face might lead to an address. Thus, the damp sheep accompanied Ianto down into the Hub.
~ BULGARIA, one year earlier ~
Nelly veered off the cobbled street and stopped in a doorway to adjust the shopping bags she was carrying. She had put milk and apples in one and bread and onions in the other, and they needed re-balancing. She sighed as she swapped the bread and the apples. She hadn't thought it would take her so many months to learn all the tricks to something as simple doing the shopping.
Now the bag with the milk was not as heavy. She stood and continued toward home. They couldn't really afford fresh milk, but Sofie was growing so fast...
Just before she crossed the road to enter the narrow street where they lived, she heard several dogs barking in the distance. Turning toward the sound, her eyes were drawn to the hill above their neighbourhood. On the side of the hill was a pear orchard. She couldn't see the dogs-but there was something there. A smudge among the still-bare trees, a dark shape... a man? The shape lengthened, became taller, as if it were standing up, and Nelly could imagine it now as a man with a wide-brimmed hat. A man in black, with a lumpy shape on his back. The shape shifted again, and suddenly Nelly felt as if it could see her.
Her skin prickled and she felt cold inside.
Then she shook her head, admonishing herself for her silliness, and walked on. Since her mother had died, Nelly felt she had changed. She was braver: she went to the shops on her own, she borrowed eggs from the neighbours, she took Sofie to the childminder and picked her up every day after she'd finished school. She cooked whole meals when she had barely trusted herself with a hot kettle before.
But she also worried about things she hadn't even been aware of a year ago. Buses in pedestrian crossings. Child-stealers. Dirt in food that could make people sick. Blood clots that lodged in people's brains.
One thing she shouldn't be afraid of, she told herself, was a man from a children's story. Torbalan was not real and he could not harm her.
When she stepped into the house and called hello to her father, Sofie came running and threw her arms around Nelly's waist. "Say hello to Zhivka!" she insisted, holding up her toy sheep.
Sofie hadn't been old enough to really understand, when their mother died. She had been affected by the bustle in the house and the adults acting strangely and saying her mummy was not coming back. Nelly had held her while she bawled for hours, for days, but Sofie would not be comforted. Only when someone brought a toy, a fluffy sheep, had Sofie allowed herself to be distracted. From that time on she and Zhivka had been inseparable. As she became more talkative, Sofie spoke to Zhivka as if the sheep were alive. Alone with her inanimate friend, she would chatter for half the day. For Nelly, it had been a great relief.
Nelly smiled, lifted the toy, and kissed it on the nose.
Everything was fine.
~~~
But there were still times when she became frightened. Once, she was walking Sofie to the childminder's house before school. When they turned in to the narrow street where Mrs. Katzarov lived, Sophie took two steps and froze. Nelly looked at her, then followed her stare to the end of the street where a black-clothed figure was lurking. His back was to them, but his wide brimmed hat was distinctive.
Instead of moving quickly foward, hurrying Sofie into Mrs. Katzarov's doorway, Nelly grabbed the little girl's arm and pulled her back around the corner in the direction from which they had come. Her heart sank when Sofie dropped Zhivka, and they had to sneak back around the corner to retrieve her. Then they walked homewards until they reached a corner shop, and she let Sophie choose a sweet while Nelly caught her breath.
They didn't try to return to Mrs. Katzarov's house that day. When Sofie asked about it, Nelly laughed as brightly as she could manage and said, "Silly me, I forgot that my school is closed today! Would you like to go to the park?" They spent the morning swinging and watching ducks. In reality, Sofie chased ducks while Nelly fretted.
Finally she decided to bring up the strange incident from that morning, so that she could reassure her sister.
"Sofie," she said evenly when the tired girl was sitting on a bench next to her, "before I remembered about my school's holiday this morning, did you see something that made you afraid?"
Sofie adjusted her sheep so that it fitted more comfortably under her arm, then frowned. "Zhivka was afraid first. I saw a man, then she was scared, then I was scared."
"Did Zhivka tell you she was scared? Does she talk to you?" Nelly wasn't sure she should be worrying about two things at once, but now she didn't know how to break the incident down into its various concerns. Which was worse, that Sofie was conversing with an inanimate object, or that she had seemed to sense danger?
Sofie giggled. "She doesn't talk. But I know. I just know how she feels."
Well, that wasn't so bad, Nelly hoped. "You don't need to be scared, okay? Zhivka probably just made a mistake and thought she saw something."
Sofie nodded then looked up at Nelly, her eyes shining again. "Can we get another sweet on the way home?"
And that was that, for awhile.
There were other things to be concerned with. One day while Nelly was walking Sofie home after school, Sofie asked, "Where did Mummy go?"
Nelly was holding her sister's hand as they walked, and it took a strong effort not to stop abruptly and possibly jerk Sofie's arm. She kept walking, composed herself for a few seconds, and asked Sofie calmly, "Do you remember we talked about this before? Maichitze went to heaven, agne." She used their mother's pet name for Sofie.
"Teodor says heaven isn't real. He says mummies and daddies go away when they don't like you anymore."
"Well, I'm sorry for Teodor, but your mummy loved you very much. She didn't want to go away."
"Can we visit her? Can we fly there?" Sofie's face was so hopeful, Nelly had to look away. It hurt too much.
"Aeroplanes don't travel to heaven, agne."
After Sofie was asleep that night, Nelly lay in the dark and cried more than she had in a long time. She was careful to be quiet.
~~~
Over the next two weeks, Sofie kept asking questions. She also cried in her sleep and woke up calling for her mother. She didn't understand why Mummy wouldn't come back. Nelly began sleeping in Sofie's bed so that she could comfort her quickly and quietly, before Father woke up. He was too tired from work, and too sad, Nelly thought. He didn't need more trouble.
Nelly assumed it would just be a short phase, but whatever was bothering Sofie didn't seem to be going away. If anything, it was getting worse. Of course she was sad about her mother. But she had only just turned five - did little children grieve that much? Did they claim that their toys were afraid? Nelly didn't know what to do or who to consult for advice.
So she went to the library. The school didn't have the kind of books she needed, and she was embarrassed to ask the librarian there anyway. She arranged with Mrs. Katzarov for Sofie to stay longer one day, and took the 30-minute bus ride from her school to the main city library.
She began by looking for books on child psychology, but those were hard to read and didn't seem to have chapters with the practical advice she was looking for. On her second trip into the public access halls, she happened to walk past a section of books on mythology and folk tales. The titles were mysterious and referenced exciting sounding names from many countries.
Nelly stopped. Torbalan was a folk tale, or so she had thought.
So her research shifted. In the books she had time to look at, she only found one reference to Torbalan, but it seemed there were other creatures like him in other countries.
It wasn't useful information, but in a twist of luck, the fairy tales led her to what she'd come for in the first place. One book had a chapter on folk customs surrounding death, and in one illustration, Japanese mourners floated candles on little paper boats out into a lake. The boats carried messages to the dead, the book explained.
So when she got off the bus in her neighbourhood and headed to Mrs. Katzarov's to fetch Sofie, Nelly was carrying only one book: an instruction manual on how to fold paper into shapes like birds and dragons and many other things. That night, with pages of her father's newspaper, she taught herself to fold boats.
~~~
Nelly promised Sofie that they would send a message to Mummy in heaven. She made some tiny "messengers," dolls of bundled thread like their springtime martenitsa, but instead of the traditional red and white, she let Sofie choose the colors. Sofie chose yellow and green because she said it looked like mummy's favourite dress. Nelly knew that dress. It was hanging in the closet, and once in awhile, Nelly would stand in the dark room and press it to her face. It still smelled faintly of perfume.
On a Saturday evening, they walked to the park and knelt next to the duck pond. Nelly held Zhivka in one arm and supported her sister with the other as the little girl leaned over the water, dropping in two boats. They nestled tiny candles inside them, and very gently, Sofie set the green and yellow dolls into the boats as well. Nelly lit the candles carefully and gave each boat a gentle shove, and then they watched as the boats drifted out into the lake, glowing in the gathering dark. The boats floated out smoothly for a minute, then began to rock in the ripples of a goose paddling by. When Nelly noticed the water beginning to saturate the paper at the bottom of the boat, she took Sofie's hand and they began to walk slowly toward home. Two stars had come out. Sofie squeezed her hand. Looking at her, Nelly thought she hadn't seen her sister's face look so peaceful.
Sofie gave a little gasp and pointed toward the sky, where a tiny silver speck was climbing through the blue. "Maybe it's our messages going to heaven!" she said, bouncing.
Nelly nodded. "Maybe." She knew that what they were seeing was an aeroplane, reflecting the light of the setting sun. She wished it were that easy, sending messages on a plane. She squeezed Sofie's hand and they kept walking.
"What was your message, Nelly?"
"Um, just... goodbye, and I love you." And 'why did you leave us'... "What was yours?"
"I said I miss you, and thank you for my sheep."
"Agne, you know Mummy didn't give you Zhivka, don't you?"
"I know, but it's from her. Zhivka feels like Mummy."
Nelly didn't believe in souls anymore. If there were such a thing, she would be able to feel her mother watching her from heaven. But if it helped Sofie, it helped, she supposed.
~~~
That night was the first peaceful one they'd had in a long time. Sofie didn't cry herself to sleep, and she didn't wake in the night. Nelly felt her body relaxing, muscle by muscle relinquishing its watchfulness, until by early morning she was practically a puddle of relief. She drifted off watching the shadow of a branch moving slightly in the breeze outside their bedroom window.
She was sunk deep in sleep, impossibly lost in the murk of a dream when a scream jerked her awake. She sat up and instantly felt so dizzy that she thought she might throw up, but she managed to feel for the lamp beside the bed and switch it on.
Sofie was still lying beside her. The little girl hadn't even woken; she was breathing quickly, moving in her sleep, clutching Zhivka tightly, but she was still asleep. This was a new thing, screaming in her sleep. Nelly sighed and switched off the lamp.
She still felt too sick to lie down, so she sat until her eyes adjusted to the dark. Then she realized it wasn't quite as dark as she had expected - there was grey in the sky and she could see out of the window.
Grey, and... a gleam, two bright points, almost like... eyes? She was imagining things.
But no, there was a darker shape against the grey sky. Nelly traced the outline with her eyes: broad, almost lumpy at the base, narrowing in the middle like a neck, then flaring out near the top, exactly like - a hat's brim. Barely daring to breathe, Nelly got out of bed, felt along the wall for the broom handle Sofie used as a horse, and tiptoed toward the window.
She raised her arms, ready to strike with the stick if necessary, and just then the head turned and Nelly could clearly see the reflection of sky in the eyes. Then they were gone, the figure disappearing like mist in the dawn.
Knowing she would not sleep again, Nelly went to the kitchen and quietly made herself some tea. She had breakfast ready by the time her father was awake. She had made her decision: she had to tell Father about the Torbalan. If he thought she was being silly, fine, but she couldn't keep it from him any longer.
Once he had drunk half of his tea and was stirring his yoghurt, Nelly opened her mouth to speak.
At the same time, Father looked up at her. "Dŭshtery," he said, "I have something to tell you."
Nelly closed her mouth.
"I've got a new job, but it's far away. Our papers came through this week. We're moving to England."
Nelly didn't know what to say.
"Won't that be nice? To get away from here? A new life?"
Nelly wanted to protest, But I like our home here. It still feels like Mummy here. But then she thought of the terror in the night, the way fear sat in her stomach all the time lately, Sofie's unconscious scream still ringing in her ears... right now it felt more important than even the precious, lingering presence of her mother. Surely they would be safe in another country.
She smiled at Father. "It will be nice."
~ CARDIFF ~
Indoors. Down. Underground. The hands are large and hold her not by a single front hoof, allowing her tail to bump the ground, but firmly around the back of the neck and with a hand under the rump. She can hear fresh water and feel it in the air.
Suddenly, a SHRIEKING ALARM, shouting, running feet and she is dropped. She knows cold water is soaking the wool on her head and front and seeping into her belly. Eventually, the alarm is silenced, the feet above her still, she is lifted dripping from the pool, back in the large hands. An object with blue lights is thrust near her head, waved around her body. She is wrapped in thick cloth and squeezed dry. Faces hover near hers. Speaking. She is the centre of attention.
She is still alone.
~~~
"First of all, can I say it?" Owen was unable to contain his smirk. "Ianto, I knew you would have a teddy bear. I just didn't think you'd start bringing it to work."
Ianto glanced at the toy now sitting on a towel at Tosh's workstation. "I... believe it's a sheep. And-" he continued quickly, anticipating the tiresome Welsh joke coming next, "I hate to disappoint you, but it was outside the tourist information office this morning. I just thought we could return it to its owner."
"I think it's sweet, Ianto," Tosh said without looking round, still busy analysing readings from her scans of the object.
"Yeah, sweet. It sets off an incursion alarm and scans as an alien life form. It's the sweetest teddy bear I've ever seen."
"Sheep," Gwen and Tosh corrected Owen in unison.
Jack appeared in the doorway of his office. "I don't care if it's a bear or a sheep or a plush syphilis microbe, I want to know how it's also managing to be an alien. Tosh, let me know as soon as you find something in that data. Ianto?"
Ianto nodded. "I'll check the archives for mentions of... life forms inhabiting Earth objects, I suppose?"
"Thank you," Jack said. "Owen, we need something to contain it if it decides 'wet stuffed sheep' isn't a fun place to live. And Gwen-"
"We need to find out where it came from," she finished for him. "I'll start checking CCTV footage of the plas from yesterday."
"Good," Jack nodded. "I don't like it when aliens walk into my Hub."
On his way down the stairs, Ianto heard Owen mutter, "Or get carried in by staff," then the sound of a sheaf of papers smacking someone on the head.
~~~
Ianto stood in the archive library, scanning spines. He didn't know precisely which book he was looking for, but he knew the year. When he found the right section, he used his handkerchief to whip away dust from the spine and tops of the pages before removing a volume from the shelf, and made a mental note to increase the frequency of this room on his cleaning schedule. Opening the first book, he took a moment to breathe deeply. The yellowed pages and leather binding smelled like his grandfather.
It was only five minutes before he returned to the main level of the Hub, another brown leather volume open in his hands.
"I found something from the seventies," he announced.
Tosh looked up and tilted her head toward him with a puzzled frown. "Haven't we scanned in everything in the archives from 1925 and after?"
"Everything but the smell of old books," he nodded to her with a small smile. "With respect, it does seem a pity to lose the tactile experience of pages."
Of course, leaving an opening for a suggestive comment was a guarantee that Jack would appear at the same moment.
"Hey, if you want a tactile experience, all you have to do is ask!"
Ianto ignored Jack. "I remembered that someone in 1972 undertook writing an alien bestiary of sorts, and since we haven't got the database thoroughly tagged yet, this may have been faster. See if this fits our wet friend." He lifted the book again, and read aloud.
"Have found that certain daily objects give off readings indicating alien activity or possession. These tend to be objects of personal or emotional significance to the owner. Types of objects testing positive include personal vehicles, items of clothing, children's toys, certain tools, and one weapon. Owners of the objects, when made aware of the readings, report having felt a 'presence' in the object in question. However, we can find no evidence of danger and suspect there is not a high cognitive component to the alien being, whatever it is. In fact, readings cease after a period of separation from the owner. No Rift activity observed in relation to this phenomenon. Based on readings, the possibility of it being technology-based is low. More research needed."
Ianto snapped the book shut. "And it's marked 'low priority.'"
"Well, that's some comfort, I suppose," Tosh said. "I'm sorry, all I can tell from this data is that the sheep is giving off a kind of energy I can't identify, but that it does seem benign. If it's really alive, maybe Owen should have a look at it with his instruments."
Owen put down the container he had brought up and picked up the toy. "We do have much more sensitive equipment than they had in 1972," he said thoughtfully, looking the sheep in the face. "I wonder what you're thinking..."
Seeing Owen was talking to the sheep, Gwen leaned over from her workstation, caught Ianto's eye, and winked.
Jack had been silent for the last few moments, a look of concentration on his face, but now something seemed to dawn on him.
"God, how could I not think of this before? Ianto, read out the objects they tested, again?"
Ianto didn't need to open the book. "Vehicles, clothing, toys, tools, and a weapon," he recited back.
Jack nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I know this thing! I haven't thought about it in..." Centuries? Ianto wondered when Jack paused slightly. "...ah, years," Jack finished. "I didn't know Torchwood was testing them in the 70s. I don't know anything technical, but it's definitely an observed phenomenon. You've seen it yourselves, I'm sure."
"Yeah, like how?" Owen asked. He was tossing the sheep in the air and catching it almost absentmindedly.
"Well, it happens most often with children, but sometimes with adults, too. Haven't you ever been really attached to an object, emotionally? Like if you had your way, you'd be inseparable?"
"I had a doll," Gwen offered. "Sally. Carried her everywhere when I was small. I talked to her more than I did my parents, I think." She smiled at the memory. "I was heartbroken when she got lost. My dad bought me another, but it was never the same. It didn't feel like Sally."
Jack pointed an emphatic finger in the air. "That was because your second doll wasn't inhabited with one of these things." He waved a hand in the direction of the sheep, which happened to be mid-toss above Owen's head.
Gwen looked unsettled. "My doll was alive?"
Jack shrugged. "Sort of. Didn't you feel like it was?"
"Well, yeah, but-" she shook her head, "I was four years old. As far as I knew, SuperTed was real as well."
"Children are a lot smarter than adults in some ways. We lose that trust in the universe..." He shook his head, then looked around. "Anybody else? Ianto?"
Ianto coughed. "Oh, no, sir, I wasn't very fond of toys."
Owen looked up. "Somehow? That doesn't surprise me, either."
Gwen smiled at Ianto encouragingly. "You must have had something you liked, though. A ball? A book?"
Ianto looked at the catwalk above him and wished he were on it instead of here. "A blanket," he nodded. "Blue, with... ducks." To deflect attention, he turned to Owen. "And you?"
Owen grinned. "Nope, I never fell in love with any toys or blankies, thank you." When the others made doubting noises, he held up his hands defensively. The sheep dangling from one hand hurt his credibility slightly. "What? I'm serious. I did not get attached to toys. They just get lost or thrown out, anyway, there's no point."
He tossed the sheep again, but Gwen had risen and stepped over to him, and she intercepted it mid-air and tossed it to Ianto, who caught it by the ear with one hand. "It might be alive, you twat," she told him. "It's probably ill by now!"
Jack shook his head. "I doubt it feels things physically the way we do. All I know is that supposedly there are these creatures, they seek out treasured objects, and it sounds like it has something to do with emotional energy. Which can be pretty powerful stuff, as you know."
Tosh had been watching her computer screen throughout the conversation, but now she turned around with an uncomfortable look on her face. "Ianto," she leaned toward him slightly, "you said Torchwood found these things in clothing?"
Ianto nodded. "'Items of clothing,' it said."
Tosh squirmed visibly. "So my shirt could be alive? Jack?"
Jack chuckled. "Are you emotionally attached to your shirt? Like you never want to take it off?" When Tosh shook her head, he reassured her, "You're fine. It's probably rare in items of clothing anyway. Maybe a hat or scarf someone wears all the time."
Ianto would have liked to pursue the topic of Jack's greatcoat, but just then Gwen was asking Jack about his own personal experience with the phenomenon.
"Toy ship," Jack answered.
"What kind of ship would that be, Sir?" Ianto asked.
This time, Jack ignored him. "Even brought it to school with me, I just felt better when I had it with me." He smiled a little sadly, then shifted back to the present. "Well, I agree with Torchwood 1972, there's probably zero danger, but I'd feel better knowing a little more about this, since we have the opportunity. Owen?"
"As soon as I get the test subject back, boss," Owen replied, holding out his hands ready to catch a pass from Gwen. Instead, Gwen walked the sheep over and placed it gently in Owen's arm.
~~~
She is carried downward again, a few steps farther below the surface of the planet.
A moment before, she had almost flown-small launches, bursts of near-flight. It is nothing like the real thing. As a larva, before she inhabited, she knew flight... she was flight. She was air and space, she soared between the stars with a cloud of her siblings, nothing more than a streak of light, feeding on motion and hope, searching for a scrap of matter, a well of love to pour herself down.
After bonding, she would never fly again. She is this body, in the centre of a hidden pool with ripples crisscrossing between her and the humanchild.
Her loneliness bubbles up and becomes pain. It has been too long. The separation might be permanent.
She is placed near machines, with some of them attached to her like snakes. Three people speak in low voices, and one of them, the one who had been launching her, speaks more than the others.
"...discrepancies... cognitive activity down here... sensory readings way up here... increasing at a constant rate... usually indicates pain... not affected by any physical stimuli... my guess is, pretty soon, this thing is going to be screaming. We just won't hear it."
The words wash over her. When she is home, she is spoken to, but those words are ripples of love. These are not spoken to her, they are meaningless. The speaking person inserts things into her stuffing and she feels nothing. Then the large hands, the ones that picked her up outside, come near, and the memory of hope flits close with them. The voices rise in pitch.
"... sensory readings dipped! Ianto, do that again!"
The people around her work amidst vapours of concentration, anxiety, excitement, and rare bursts of joy. Eventually she is given into the large hands. They are a small comfort to her, but she feels time growing short.
~~~
"That's all I can tell you, Jack." Owen was putting away cords and clamps while he spoke. "I detected energy a lot like our neural electrical impulses, so I'm going to say it's alive. It seems to respond to emotion-you saw the readings when Tosh and Gwen started laughing upstairs-and it has its preferences, inexplicable as they are." He glanced in Ianto's direction. "But it probably doesn't think much of anything, at least not in the way we would define cognitive function. And it can't be very comfortable. Question is, what do we do with that?"
"You mean do we isolate it here, or let it go?" Jack had been standing on the other side of the exam table with his hands in his pockets most of the time. Now he placed his hands on the table and leaned forward.
"Well, no, there's no 'go,' I think if it could have left the..." Owen waved his hand in the direction of Ianto, standing halfway up the autopsy room steps holding the toy, "the body of the sheep, it would have done it a long time ago. I mean... I can't find anything in bright red letters that says 'threat.' But are we sure it's not something really nasty incubating, or trying to enslave our children through toys-it could be anything and how would we know? Are we considering giving an alien back to a child?"
"It's not anything nasty." Jack shook his head. "I've seen them before, in a lot of different places, and I've never heard of any problems. I'm sorry you never experienced it before, I think that's the only way you can really understand."
"Excuse me for not having a prior relationship with a toy," Owen replied, more playful than unkind, and rolled his eyes. "I'm just being cautious, Jack. We don't even know if it came through the Rift, or what."
"Wherever it came from, it's in trouble now," Jack said thoughtfully.
"'Readings cease after a period of separation from the owner,'" Ianto quoted, finishing for Jack. "It's going to die."
~~~
The CCTV footage Gwen had found was timestamped 17:23 on the previous day and showed two girls, one aged about thirteen, one much younger and carrying the toy sheep by a front hoof, occasionally letting it drag on the ground. The older girl stopped by the rail and looked out at the water for a moment while the younger one set the sheep on the ground and squatted in front of it, looking as if she were in conversation.
"Now, their backs are mostly to the camera," Gwen narrated, "but watch, the older girl turns around... here-" and she paused the footage.
The image on the large screen in the board room wasn't very clear, but the even graininess couldn't disguise the tension on the girl's face. Owen shifted forward in his chair. "Looks like she's watching for something."
"Or someone," Jack suggested.
"As if they're being followed," Gwen agreed. "Now watch this." She continued the footage, and a second later the older girl spun back around, grabbed the younger one's arm, and jerked her to her feet, moving them both off almost at a run. The small girl twisted, trying to turn back, but the older one picked her up and carried her in her arms, out of range of the camera.
"Is there any more to that? Were you able to find them on another camera?" Jack asked, his voice more urgent than before.
"Not yet, but just wait," Gwen said, "watch the lower left there."
A few seconds later, a large, dark shape crossed the corner of the screen in the direction the girls had gone. Back where they originally had stopped, the toy sheep sat on the ground, alone. Gwen turned off the footage.
"That's it?" Owen shifted again and scowled. "What was it, a man? I don't like the look of that."
Tosh had been standing back but now stepped forward. "We haven't had time to check the other cameras that might have caught them, but the image of the older girl's face was clear enough for me to run through several databases, and I got a match at Immigration: Anelia Gavrilova. Moved to Wales with her father, who's here on a work visa. According to NHS files she made a single visit to A&E, for a bronchial infection-" Tosh held up a piece of paper about half filled with data, "and I've got an address."
"She lives in Canton, and I expect we'll find they're sisters," Gwen said. "Jack?" she turned to him, the whole question in her face.
"We're not Social Services, Gwen, you know that."
"But-Owen said it's an alien or something? We ought to at least check. God knows we've found enough aliens where we weren't looking before."
Owen nodded. "We could return the sheep, Jack. I mean, I think you were implying that earlier. Alien mercy mission and all that."
Jack nodded. "Right. I just don't want you to overstep your bounds. Don't get involved with this family, Gwen." He and Gwen locked eyes for a second longer than comfort dictated, and finally Gwen nodded back, saying nothing.
Owen pushed back his chair and stood up. "Gwen and I'll go. What street did you say, Tosh?"
"I didn't, but it's Wynne Street."
"Great, I've got a contact there I'd like to check in on anyway. We'll return the sheep and be on our way. Let's just hope our mysterious little friend makes it that long."
Gwen raised her eyebrows at him, and he filled her in, "It's not in good shape as far as I can tell. It needs to get back to its..." he searched for a word and settled on- "lover?" He spluttered. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but what would you call it?" He looked at Jack and Ianto.
"Torchwood 1972 seemed to find the term 'owner,' perfectly serviceable," Ianto said drily.
"Yeah, well, anyway, Gwen, we've gotta go." He put a hand on her back to usher her with him out of the board room with him. "Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep, and apparently it'll die without her."
Continue to Part Two