fic: SJA / TW crossover, "The Other" (3/5)
Part 2
Part 3
"T is for Torchwood. This is the Torchwood logo, and Ian drew it on the bathroom mirror this morning."
She'd dug up a UNIT file and printed out the linked hexagonal T-symbol she'd recognised with a feeling of dread, and then had to wait, fretting for the rest of the morning, until they'd all had lunch and Clyde had come back.
In spite of his quick recovery, Ian still had little energy for anything more strenuous than reading the papers or playing video games with Luke. Now he was in the living room, safely asleep again under the Sunday Times, but Sarah Jane still found herself whispering across the kitchen table as she placed the printed page in the middle.
Maria looked thoughtful. Clyde shook his head, shrugging, but Luke nodded.
"The Torchwood Institute. Founded in 1879 by Queen Victoria, to defend the British Empire against the threat of infiltration and attack by alien forces."
Sarah Jane looked at him sharply. "How do you know about Torchwood?" she asked, just as Clyde was saying, "Aliens? Queen Victoria? You've got to be having a laugh, right?"
Luke looked guilty. "Sorry. I asked Mr Smith to tell me everything he knew about verified alien activity on Earth. I didn't think that was wrong. Torchwood came up a lot."
"I'm sure it did," she said grimly. "Don't worry, I understand that you're curious. It's just - Torchwood. And yes, Clyde, Queen Victoria encountered aliens. A race of haemovores - alien werewolves - trying to assassinate her. She was lucky that the Doctor was there to save her."
"Your friend the Doctor?" Maria asked. Sarah Jane nodded. "So he told her to set up this - Torchwood Institute - to protect herself?"
"No, that's the stupid part. He saved her, and she decided that he was the biggest alien threat of them all! Victoria created Torchwood, gave them total power to do what they liked, with one rule - the name right at the top of Torchwood's list of threats to the Empire was to be the Doctor himself!" She shook her head, annoyed. "And they've been like that ever since - arrogant, violent, quite hopeless... Remember when we first met, Maria? I told you there were people out there whose idea of protecting the Earth was to go in with guns blazing. Well, that's Torchwood. Shoot first, and never apologise afterwards. They think they have all the answers, and that's what makes them more dangerous than anything."
Luke was frowning. "But they don't exist anymore. Mr Smith said there was a battle, just before I - came here. Torchwood was destroyed."
"Their headquarters, yes. The battle at Canary Wharf." She closed her eyes, remembering and suddenly regretting her angry outburst. UNIT had helped with the clean-up: she'd seen some of the reports. "It was a terrible massacre - whatever Torchwood had done, the people there never deserved it. Hundreds were killed, almost everyone who worked there. The people in charge of Torchwood had become so sure, so certain they had all the answers, and they were so wrong. A catastrophe..."
"Canary Wharf?" Clyde chipped in "Hey, I remember that - the big tower that got bombed. They said on the news that was terrorists, wasn't it?"
Cybermen and Daleks, and memories she never wanted anyone else to have to bear. "Terrorists - yes, in a way I suppose they were. Just terrorists from another planet, another dimension even. Not human, and totally without any mercy."
"But if Torchwood was destroyed," Luke persisted, "How can it have anything to do with Ian?"
"Oh well, you see, not all of Torchwood was in London. They had a couple of regional offices, if you like - one in Glasgow and one in Cardiff. And one that's sort of... gone walkabout."
"Cardiff in Wales?" Maria exclaimed. "But Ian's Welsh! You can hear his accent, now he's starting to speak again. You - you think he's one of them? From this Torchwood?"
"Oh no, no," Sarah Jane shook her head, thinking about the way Ian spoke, realising Maria was right. "But I think maybe he's met them. Look, the man who runs what's left of Torchwood invented a drug called Retcon. They use it all the time - to hide what they're doing, or to make sure people who've had alien encounters won't remember what happened to them. And Retcon is an amnesia drug! It wipes memories completely. The last day of your life, or the last week, month. However much of your past they want to obliterate."
Across the table, three pairs of eyes widened.
"Exactly! It's one of the things I've always hated about Torchwood. They think they have a right to decide what other people can know, and that's just wrong. People need to know the truth, not be left walking around with holes in their memories. Retcon is a horrible weapon, and Torchwood uses it just because it makes things easier for them. No matter what harm it might be doing to the people they've drugged!"
"Ian's been given Retcon!" Luke breathed.
"I think so, yes. It would explain why he's lost so much of his memory. Who knows what dosage he might have been given?"
"Whoa, hang on," Clive interrupted. "If Torchwood uses this Retcon drug to wipe out memories, how come he can still remember their logo?"
"I don't know," Sarah Jane admitted. "But Retcon isn't foolproof. Some people react differently to it - a few of them aren't affected by it at all. Sometimes, memories that don't get completely lost. UNIT medics seem to think it could even be reversed by accident, if the victim sees something that reminds them strongly enough of whatever they were supposed to forget."
"Anyway, he can't be from Torchwood," Luke insisted. "The way you describe them - that's not Ian at all."
"Why don't we just ask him?" Clyde suggested.
"Maybe we'll have to." She sighed, hesitating. "Right now, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I know I said people shouldn't be kept in the dark, but... Look, someone shot at that man, wiped his memory and brought him here, to a ruined building hundreds of miles from Wales. If that was Torchwood, then the last thing they'll want is him remembering why. If he remembers what happened to him, tries to go back, I don't know what they might do. Take away every memory he's ever had, wipe his mind completely, even - Retcon can do that. They might do something worse."
"Then he's safer here. If he stays here, he'll be fine. He can get a job, we can help him find somewhere to live. And Torchwood won't be able to hurt him anymore." Luke was nodding as he spoke, no doubt at all in his mind. But Maria looked less convinced.
"Okay, none of us wants anything more to happen to him. We want him to be safe. But he's not happy like this - not remembering, not knowing who he is. And even if we're trying to protect him, he might start to remember by himself anyway, you said."
"But people don't always react well to the truth," Luke argued. "Remember when you finally told your Dad about all the stuff that was happening here? He freaked out - wanted to move house and make sure you never saw us again!"
Clyde was nodding. "And if this Torchwood lot are so dangerous, maybe it's just better for everyone if they never find him again - or us, for that matter. But what if they track him down to here anyway?"
"I don't know. Look, I'm not saying they're murderers, it's just - " Sarah Jane broke off, trying to find the right words. "It's Torchwood - something about that place always gets to me! Too many guns, not nearly enough compassion. I don't know what to do, I really don't."
"So, is he safe staying here like he is now, with no idea of who he is?"
"Not just him - us too! Are we safe hiding him here?"
"But it's not just what's safest, it's about what's right! If we think we might know anything about what's happened to him, don't we have to tell him?"
Sarah Jane closed her eyes, listening to the three of them quietly but passionately chewing it over. They made a good team, she thought: none of them afraid to speak up, all of them ready to listen to each other. More than anything, she knew they'd all want to find some way to ultimately agree with each other. It was lucky they -
There was a quiet cough behind her.
"Excuse me," Ian was standing in the kitchen doorway. "Sorry to interrupt. Wondered if I could make myself some coffee? I can't stay asleep all the time."
His voice was getting stronger now: no mistaking the Welsh lilt that Maria had picked up. "Of course - you're not interrupting. I've got filter coffee somewhere if you want something a bit better than instant..."
She tailed off. Ian was staring at the sheet of paper in the middle of the table. Too late to whip it out of sight. Oh, how stupid!
Keeping her voice carefully calm, Sarah Jane said, "Do you recognise that?"
"Yes," Ian said. He paused. "It's the symbol I drew on the bathroom mirror this morning. Thought I'd cleaned up in there, sorry."
"Do you know what it is?"
He shook his head, frowning. "No idea. I was dreaming last night - can't remember much, just a jumble of random, um, stuff. But I was standing in front of a window at some point, and that shape was on it. Thought it might jog my memory if I drew it in the steam, like the way I'd dreamed it."
"Did it?" Maria asked.
"No, not really. It's all too vague, like a feeling of things - stone walls, a man yelling. Smell of metal..." He sighed, but Sarah Jane smiled brightly at him.
"Cheer up! This is good - you are starting to remember at last! I don't remember seeing this sign in the Bubble Shock warehouse, which might mean it's something you've seen from before that - before whatever happened to you, yes?"
Ian nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yes, I suppose... Do you know what it is?"
Under the table, Sarah Jane crossed her fingers. "I'm not sure. But I think I know a man who might be able to help figure it out."
She caught the look of distress on Luke's face, Maria biting her lip, Clyde suddenly very still. Ian, though, let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God! Who is he? When can you speak to him?"
So happy at the possibility of finally finding out who he was. Sarah Jane sighed. "The thing is, this man, he's, well, he's - a bit odd. I've never met him, but we've talked a couple of times." Probably best not to mention - to Ian or any of the kids - that the maverick Captain Harkness had tried to recruit her to join Torchwood, a few years ago. "Rather unconventional, you might say, and not always reliable. Before I approach him, I want to be sure we really don't have any other options. Just in case he knows the people who did this to you in the first place."
Ian looked disappointed for a moment, then nodded. "Good thinking, yeah. Best play it safe. I just - " He waved a hand at himself. " - this is all very... must be inconvenient for you. Having to look after some stranger coming out of nowhere, I mean."
"Not at all!" She caught Luke's eye and smiled reassuringly. "Not nearly as unusual as you might think. Look, it doesn't matter how long this takes, you're welcome to stay with us as long as you need to. Now, let's see if I can remember where I put my cafetière -"
"It's in the pantry! Come with me!" Luke almost bounced out of his chair, smiling again. Clyde waited until they were both out of the room, before pointing at the sheet of paper and saying softly, "I take it this unreliable guy you mentioned works for that lot, then?"
"He's the boss."
"The boss? The one you said invented this Retcon drug?" Maria looked agitated, but she was also whispering. Sarah Jane nodded.
"I know. Look, maybe Ian's memory is coming back by itself anyway. Let's leave it another day or two, see what happens. I'm not in any rush to pick up the phone to that man, don't worry!"
***
After lunch, it fell back into being a pretty average Sunday afternoon. Ian fussed quietly with the cafetière, finally producing a brew that Maria and Luke both sampled reluctantly ("Gah!" Maria exclaimed, horrified. "I'll stick with the Nescafe") but which Sarah Jane had to admit tasted far better than she'd usually managed to make herself. Ian started on a long, detailed explanation to Luke of the science of perfect coffee, but it made him go hoarse again, so he sat at the table and wrote everything down, his handwriting faster and also noticeably loopier after the second cup.
Coffee Manifesto, he wrote at the top of the page, underlining it and adding a small doodled crown. Luke leaned over his shoulder, pointing. "What's the crown for?"
I'm the King of Coffee, Ian scrawled, and Clyde laughed.
"Ahh, got it, mate! You're not a millionaire - you're one of those barista guys in Starbucks!"
Ian smiled, inclining his head as he scribbled. Mystery solved! Congratulations, Clint.
The living room had, of course, been tidied thoroughly while they'd been debating in the kitchen. There was something faintly unreal about the sight of her sofa with all the cushions plumped and smoothed and neatly arranged at each corner.
Luke wanted Clyde and Maria to challenge Ian on the Wii game they'd been playing that morning. Sarah Jane left them all to it, taking her laptop out into the garden to see if she could finish her corporate manslaughter article at last. It was quite a warm day for early May, and the garden was starting to sprout everywhere. It took willpower not to start wandering around, poking at the vine growing over the dilapidated gazebo to see if pruning it back might stop the whole thing falling over, or starting the mammoth task of weeding the flowerbeds. She liked gardening, but since Luke had arrived, it had to be said that she'd let things slide.
Still, work was work. Most of the article was already written, and she was finally making good progress - enough to feel briefly irritated when the kitchen door opened and the kids trooped out into the garden.
"We had to put the Wii away," Luke said. "Maria thinks we were making Ian go mopey again."
"That's not what I said!" Maria exclaimed. "He's an adult, Luke. Maybe he doesn't want to sit around all day playing Metroid Prime III with a bunch of kids."
"Only because we both kept beating the pants off him," Clyde said cheerfully. "Anyway, he probably just needed another nap. Right, we can't hang around here. You're not the only one with work to do, Sarah Jane!"
"Oh - don't tell me you're starting your half-term projects already?"
"No, we're going to bike over to the Bubble Shock plant, have a dig around. Investigate! See if there's anything there, like that Torchwood sign thing, maybe. Or some other clues."
She wanted to tell them not to go, but there didn't seem much point - not that Clyde and Maria were obliged to take any notice of her anyway. And the truth was, if they were in the habit of following leads, satisfying their curiosity no matter how risky, well, she only had to look in the nearest mirror to see whose example they were following.
All she could do was wave them off, with firm instructions not to hang around, to watch where they were walking and to get out immediately if they saw anyone else or found anything suspicious. "Especially that logo!"
It had only been a short interruption, but her concentration had ebbed away. Now, her thoughts kept straying back to the Bubble Shock factory, remembering that first sight of Ian crouched in a dark cupboard, fearful and lost. And that only made her think of the first time she'd seen Luke, of course, hiding in the Ladies with Maria. There was something eerily similar in the way they'd both stared at her, so helplessly confused...
Not really the same at all. Ian had a past, even if he'd been forcibly relieved of it, but at least there was a chance he could recover his memories. For Luke, there had been nothing before that unique, terrifying moment of coming into full human consciousness. She'd tried before to imagine what it must have been like for him, the shock and fear. Enough to drive anyone mad! Not her son, though: even then, right from the start, he'd trusted her to help him. And all he'd wanted to do was the right thing. Is that good or bad?, he'd asked her, again and again about every new thing he encountered: names, books, a cup of tea. Always trusting that she would know the right answer.
Sometimes, it felt like an impossible burden. And sometimes it made her feel that she finally understood the Doctor, in ways that wouldn't have been possible before. She'd always trusted that he would have the right answers, that he'd keep her safe, never once thinking about the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Maybe that was why he never travelled with any one companion for too long. Was Rose Tyler still there with him?
Sarah Jane shook her head. This wasn't getting the writing done! Maybe one more small cup of Ian's lethally strong coffee, to help her focus? She'd have to hang on to that list of instructions he'd scrawled out, for the next time Alistair came to stay - another man who loved coffee that took the lining off your throat on the way down.
The house was quiet. In the kitchen, as she squeezed one last cup out of the cafetière, the utility room door opened and Ian came out, his shoes in his hand. He jumped at the sight of her, then smiled brightly. "My, uh, feet were getting a bit cold. Thought I'd see if these were OK."
The shoes had been cleaned and polished back to a flawless lustre. Sarah Jane nodded. "You've done a good job with those! Sorry, I totally forgot about socks. Shoes won't be very comfortable around the house, though - I'll give Luke a call, see if he can pop over to the shops on his way back. Marks & Spencer might still be open."
Ian hesitated, then said smoothly, "If you tell me where the shops are, I could walk there myself. Could do with stretching my legs, you know. Bit of fresh air."
He was glib, but she knew he wasn't thinking about a quick trip to the shops and back. There was an odd tension in him, the way he glanced at her and then back at the shoes, not looking up again.
He was planning to run away, she was certain of it, though she couldn't say why. She kept her voice light. "You know, two days ago you fainted dead away right here in this kitchen, young man. Let's not go wild just yet. Why don't you come with me and have a stroll around the garden first, see how you feel? It's nice out there."
He didn't argue, just put the shoes down and followed her meekly out, barefoot. They walked around the lawn, as Sarah Jane pointed out the plant that wasn't really an Earth-sourced hellebore, taking up a bit too much of the side wall now, and the rockery that was crying out for a good weeding, before ending up back by the gazebo. She gestured at the laptop.
"I've just got to finish the last bit of this article, then I can get it sent off. Do you mind if I...?" He nodded and sat down next to her, eyes closed and face turned to catch the gentle May sunshine as she tapped out the final revisions. He looked as if he might have dozed off, but when she shut the lid of the laptop he spoke without opening his eyes.
"Luke said you're a journalist. Funny working hours come with the job, I suppose."
"I think that's more to do with me putting everything off until the last possible minute of every deadline, though that's a great journalist's tradition too, of course."
He nodded, then sat up, pointing up at the gazebo behind them. "The frame there, that corner's come right out of its joint. Working loose at the top, too. Might not be all that safe, you know."
"I know," Sarah Jane sighed. "I keep meaning to do something about that. I have this terrible stepladder, though - I'm always scared it's going to collapse under me."
"I could do it," Ian offered. "If you have tools - it'd just need a hammer and a bit of epoxy to go in the socket."
She frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, not yet. What if you get dizzy again and fall over, or -"
"Your son, the others, you let them go back to that place where you found me -" She started to speak but this time he ploughed on, determined in spite of his still-faltering voice. "I heard them talking in the kitchen, and they're just kids. How do you know they won't be in danger there? You can't let them do that and, and - sit here worrying about someone you don't know falling off a stepladder!"
She couldn't exactly explain to him that the children had taken on unimaginable dangers, alien warriors and monsters, and beaten them every time. "I trust them. They may be 'just kids' but they're pretty smart, you know? Anyway, it's not as if I could tell Maria and Clyde what to do."
"You could. They look up to you, all of them. They're your responsibility." He hesitated, the anxiety clear on his face. "I can't stay here. I shouldn't be here. You don't know anything about me, how can you be sure that they're safe with me? I could be a mon- anything. Dangerous."
"Yes, I suppose that's possible. But come on, be sensible for a minute, think of the odds. Sixty million people in this country, and how many of them are really evil? It's a tiny fraction, Ian, and you're not one of them. The evil people are the ones who did this to you, stole your memories, shot you, left you to... Well, they weren't trying to help you. And I love my son, and Maria and Clyde too. Believe me, I wouldn't let you stay here with us if I thought for one minute you were any kind of a threat to them or me."
He frowned, slumping back on the garden bench, shoulders drooping.
"Can't help thinking about that too. If there's someone out there looking for me. Like - people, family worrying. Not knowing what's happened. Or maybe no-one's even noticed I'm gone." He gave a small, rusty laugh. "Don't really know which would be worse."
"Oh, someone's missing you, I'm sure of it." She thought of the Slitheen and their horrible plan to get hold of Luke, the moment when they'd stolen her child away. She'd never have imagined that she could feel so alone. "God forbid, but if Luke was ever lost, I'd have to hope someone out there would keep him safe, look after him until I could find him and bring him home. And that's exactly why you need to stay right here with us, d'you see?"
He nodded, sighing. "I understand. And you're very kind. I just - have to do something, you know? Can't just sit around all day waiting for my memory to come back."
She stood up, picking up the laptop. "Well, I tell you what. Let's go in and get your dressing changed, and if it's still doing well, I promise to show you where the key to the toolshed is - you can take your chances with my death-trap stepladder tomorrow, if you're still feeling like you need a job to do!"
***
Luke came back alone: Maria and Clyde had gone home. "We didn't find anything," he announced to Sarah Jane, sounding not in the least bit unhappy about that. Behind him in the living room, Ian sat down heavily on the couch, not looking at either of them.
Maybe he was just tired. She'd been right to tell him to take it slow. Luke seemed to be the only one of them with any energy left. After tea, he brought down his science project books to show Ian, who nodded politely as Luke turned the pages, pointing out press cuttings of reports from the Phoenix expedition or the countdown to activating the Hadron Collider in Geneva. Occasionally, Ian would ask a question in that frail and charmingly-accented voice, but to Sarah Jane's eye he seemed distracted or lost in thought. Luke carried on regardless, thrilled to be sharing his hobby with someone who was apparently quite at home with a detailed discussion of quark-gluon plasma.
Sarah Jane emailed the finished article off to her editor and checked for new mail. Ah, poor Colonel Wells must have been working on a Sunday, too. He'd sent her the UNIT report on the Bubble Shock fire. It was disappointing, though: short, and with nothing exceptional. A small but intense fire, under control within half an hour from the first alert (UNIT had a couple of sensors installed at the factory, as a standard precaution on all sites with a record of alien activity). The Fire Service had suggested an electrical fault - after all, the whole ruined factory was classed as unsafe, and there were still flammable materials there that hadn't been consumed in the explosion that had destroyed the Bane.
It was only when she'd finished reading the report that she noticed the message at the end of the Colonel's email.
I thought you should know this is the second request I've had this weekend for that report. Torchwood want to see it, something to do with logging baryon spikes? No other explanation - you know what they're like. I wanted to check with you before sending it to Captain Harkness. Should I delay replying? Anything I need to know?"
"Oh," she said aloud. Torchwood. Harkness. It couldn't be a coincidence. She started typing her reply to Colonel Wells, feeling rattled. Nothing to worry about but thank you for asking. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't any possibility the Bane were coming back! Please let Captain Harkness have the report. Who knows what Torchwood are up to this time!
When she glanced up, Ian was watching her, eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
"It's an email from a friend. I - I'm pretty sure now that the man I told you about today does know something about what happened to you. It looks like I'll have to get in touch with him."
Ian's "Good!" came at the same time as Luke's loud "No!" He shook his head to underline the point. "You said he was unreliable. Why do we have to tell him anything?"
"Because I need to know, Luke." Ian said quietly.
"Why? You're safe here. Why can't you just leave things as they are?" His face fell. "Don't you like it here? Is it me?"
Ian shook his head. He wasn't smiling. "No of course not. When you found me, you just wanted to help me. You've all been - Luke, listen to me. I look at you and all I can think is, where is my family, my friends? Are they missing me? Are they safe? I have to find out."
"What if there's no-one waiting for you?" Luke said bluntly.
"Luke!"
He ignored her: all his attention was on Ian. "Why aren't they looking for you, then? There might not be anyone - look!" He jumped to his feet, pointing at her and the room around them. "Before Mum found me, I didn't have a life, I didn't have anything. All this is me, and I'm happy! Can't you just be happy here with us?"
"No," Ian whispered, shaking his head, but he didn't look away. It was Luke who turned abruptly and left, hurrying up the stairs. The bathroom door slammed shut and after a moment, she heard the sound of the shower running.
Ian was picking up Luke's scrapbooks, folding loose pages carefully back into place as he stacked them together. Sarah Jane helped him.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Did you know that I adopted Luke? About a year ago now."
He nodded. "He told me yesterday. He's very proud: it makes sense, why he's being - He wants to help, I understand that. It's good that he feels so safe with you..." His voice had faded down to a whisper again, but she didn't think it was the laryngitis this time.
When he looked up again, he was frowning. "Sarah Jane, there's something you need to see." He glanced towards the stairs: the shower was still running overhead. He switched the Wii console back on, selecting a cartridge from Luke's shelf of games. She didn't know which one, they all looked much the same to her.
"Watch," Ian said urgently as the game started up. It was some kind of urban battlezone that reminded her for one brief, nasty moment of the Kudlak and their Combat 3000 arena.
In front of the TV, Ian was standing still, the console's remote controller held loosely at his side. He turned the sound down almost completely, and as the first little figure scuttled across the screen, there was a sudden change: feet apart, the hand of his bandaged arm clasping the other's wrist, Ian was upright, still, utterly focused.
Shooting.
She could hear the muffled gunfire, see the little animated figures flying about the screen, tiny distant screams and yells as he aimed and fired over and over, hand rock-steady. She hardly needed to see the score tally whizzing up at the bottom of the screen.
The screen cleared, flashing up cheery congratulations for a new high score, and Ian moved quickly, shutting the game down and turning the machine off. Sarah Jane was on her feet, staring at him.
He was breathing a little faster, but his expression was calm. "D'you see?"
She took a breath, let it out slowly. "I take it that wasn't the beginner level?"
"I cranked it up as high as it could go." He placed the remote gently down next to the console. "We were playing this afternoon, Clyde got this game out. It was the first shoot-em-up we'd played. Mario Olympics and Guitar Hero before that. The moment it was my turn, I realised - Don't worry, I made sure they didn't see what I could do. How well I could..."
"So, so you've been spending a bit too much time on arcade games," Sarah Jane said faintly, trying to smile.
"It's no game. I know how to shoot, I mean, shoot really well. Can't explain it, but I know what I'm doing. How to stand, how to think..."
Guns, she hated guns so much. Sarah Jane took a breath, trying to stay calm. "Alright, alright. You're - you can hit a target. But that doesn't mean anything by itself! You could be a sportsman - shooting is an Olympic sport, you know. Or, oh, a policeman, in the military, something like that?"
"Yes, I could be." He stared her down, his face set. "Or I could be something worse. I don't think a trained marksman with no memory is the kind of person who should be under the same roof as you, or your son, or his friends. Right?"
He was still calm, oddly determined as he held her gaze. Sarah Jane hesitated. "Look, I'm certain you're not a threat -"
"But you can't be certain. That man you mentioned, the one who might know what happened to me. Is he any kind of threat to you? Could he harm you, or Luke or the others?"
She wrestled with the idea of how to explain Captain Jack Harkness. The wild rumours, the UNIT files she'd read and the handful of stilted, innuendo-laden conversations she'd had with him. "Not to me, no, I don't think so. He's a sort of law unto himself, more than anything. I suppose that makes him dangerous in a way... But it's you I'm worried about. If he finds you through me, I can't be sure what he'd do - except to look after his own interests, not yours or anyone else's. If I talk to him, Ian, I can't promise you'll still be safe."
"Then don't do it for my sake. Do it to protect Luke. Maria. Clyde. Yourself. Please."
He kept his eyes on her, pleading silently, until she nodded. It felt like a betrayal. "Alright, I'll call him. Tomorrow, though. I promise, but it can wait until tomorrow."
Ian nodded solemnly, and went back to tidying Luke's scrapbooks away.
In bed that night, she reached out to turn off the bedside lamp, but her own thoughts refused to be so easily dimmed. Luke hadn't come back downstairs after his shower, and she'd left him in peace - partly because she didn't want to crowd him, and at the end of the day he really was a teenager, one who could be as touchy and insecure as any of his peers. Mostly, though, the truth was that she didn't want to face him and have to tell him the truth. I'm going to call Captain Harkness. I have to, Luke. It's for the best.
Not for Ian, she was sure of it. Torchwood, who existed to hunt down the Doctor as if he was the enemy of humankind! Torchwood in London had destroyed the Sycorax ship, even as it was fleeing from Earth. She hadn't paid them much attention before that Christmas: after that, she'd worked her way through the UNIT archives, charting the rise of the Institute from Queen Victoria to their gleaming glass tower dominating the skyline at Canary Wharf.
A secret organisation with enough boundless arrogance to hide in plain sight and defy anyone to try to act against it. She'd seen reports of failed exposés by journalists going back over decades, every story quashed by interventions from the Government of the day, the secret services... In recent years, one UNIT archivist had noted acidly, there was a statistically significant incidence of people investigating Torchwood who suffered mental breakdowns or sought psychiatric help for memory loss or clinical paranoia.
Almost as bad was the fact that Torchwood couldn't even protect its own. Years ago, she'd heard UNIT personnel jokingly refer to Torchwood as the James Dean Gang. Live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse. In the darkness she sighed. There had been something only recently... a terrorist attack on Cardiff last month, or what the media had called terrorists. UNIT had classed it as an alien incursion, through the space-time Rift there, with two Torchwood operatives killed in the bombings, along with nine other fatalities that night. And hadn't Torchwood Cardiff only been a handful of people anyway?
Another terrible thought struck her - Oh God, could Ian have been involved in that attack? But that had happened weeks ago, a month at least. He wasn't an alien, Mr Smith had been certain. And even if he was tied up in it all, somehow, then what was Torchwood doing - meting out its own brand of justice? Oh, that was all too likely, though. Torchwood had always been happy playing judge, jury and executioner, she thought furiously, even before Canary Wharf. Harkness was no different to Yvonne Hartman and all her ruthless predecessors. Given what Torchwood thought of the Doctor, nothing they did could be all that surprising. It was -
The phone rang, shocking her out of her thoughts. Her alarm clock read 00.54 in its soft blue glow. She fumbled for the phone by the bed - who on earth would call at that time of night? Maria? Clyde? UNIT? No, they'd have rung her mobile. Wrong number, most likely.
"Hello?" she said cautiously, and a man's voice boomed, "Sarah Jane Smith, it's been a while!"
Her shock this time was so great, she nearly dropped the receiver. That accent - American, loud, confident - it couldn't be! How could he have possibly...? No, too great a coincidence, it had to be her mistake. "Who - who is this?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already? Now that hurts. Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am. We need to talk."
It was him. How? "Captain... Harkness," she said weakly, playing for time to let her brain catch up "This is a - I hope this is something urgent, do you have any idea how late it is?"
"Yeah, sorry about that." There wasn't even a hint of contrition in his voice. "Working all hours, we're kind of short-staffed here at the moment."
She felt a surge of remorse. "Of course - I'm so sorry for your loss, you must be finding it hard -"
"What do you mean?" Harkness snapped, his voice suddenly harsh.
"The attack in Cardiff last month - I read the UNIT reports. Your people, they..." There had been personnel photographs. She couldn't remember the names, but the faces had stayed with her. The woman pretty and slight, with a shy smile. A pale, sharp-faced man favouring the camera with a cocky smirk. Both so ridiculously young. "I meant, you must miss them. I can't imagine -"
"Yes we do, and no you can't. Okay listen, I need to check something with you. That factory in Ealing, where you took the Bane incursion out last year - nice piece of work, by the way - UNIT reported a fire there a week ago. You know anything about that?"
She weighed up the risk of being caught out lying any more than she had to. "Yes, my son mentioned it - some of the other children at his school were talking about it. I asked Colonel Wells to send me -"
"- You have a son?" Harkness cut across her. "Don't remember that on your file."
It was tempting to tell him to mind his own business. Sarah Jane gritted her teeth: she needed to keep him as friendly as she could manage. "Yes, Luke - I adopted him. He's wonderful, I had no idea - "
"Huh, must be something in the air," Harkness was interrupting again. "Everyone's settling down - marriages, engagements, parenthood. You're all going to make me nostalgic if you keep this up. So why did you ask UNIT to send you the report?"
The sudden jump back on-topic threw her for a moment. "Oh, you know - well, maybe you don't, unless you've encountered the Bane yourself. They nearly took over the planet last year. Perhaps I'm just a little paranoid now. I wanted to be sure they weren't back here and up to something else."
"Yeah, I've met 'em. If you're feeling jittery, go get yourself a pressure jet and a couple of litres of sodium chlorate - they won't bother you after that, I guarantee. Did you go check out the fire?"
"No, the UNIT report said it was just an electrical fault." This was crazy, she needed to get a grip on the conversation. "Captain Harkness, not that I don't enjoy a good interrogation by phone in the middle of the night, but what exactly is Torchwood's interest in all this? Is there something I should be worrying about?"
He laughed. "Hey, call me Jack. And I'm sorry, I'm not exactly having a good week right now. What do you know about Bane technology?"
It was her turn to laugh. "Not much. I'm just a journalist."
"Yeah, right. I've seen your files, ma'am - including the ones your old buddy Lethbridge-Stewart didn't want me to hack. I'll have to tell you all about Toshiko Sato one day - she wasn't UNIT's greatest fan, my Toshiko. Okay, the Bane use a form of harnessed sub-particle cascade based on baryon fission, and I'm trying to track down recent surges in baryon radiation. Like your fire down there. I guess UNIT didn't do as good a job on the alien tech clear-up as Torchwood would've."
"Well apparently not," she replied, more tartly than she'd meant to. Snooping around in her restricted files, indeed! Sarah Jane shook herself. "So, will you be coming here to check the site for yourself?"
"Probably not any time soon. Like you say, it looks like the baryon spike wasn't significant, just a residual contamination footprint kicked up by the fire. I've got a few more leads to go through for now. Just thought it was worth a call to you - and it gives me an excuse to keep in touch, you know."
Check up on me, you mean! Pulling her mouth into a reluctant smile in the darkness, Sarah Jane said, "That's a pity, Jack! You know, I'd been meaning to give you a call myself. Something I've been wanting your advice on, it's a little complicated, actually, but if we could meet, maybe -"
"Yep, another time, I guess -" Harkness broke off abruptly: someone else was speaking in the background. A woman's voice. With a quick stab of insult piled on insult, Sarah Jane realised that Harkness had been talking to her on a speakerphone! She gripped her own phone hard as the voices debated something too softly for her to hear, then the Captain was back at full blast. "Okay, change of plan. I'm going to drive down to London tomorrow, that way I can check the site out for myself, cross it off the list for certain, then I can swing by Bannerman Road and see if I can help with whatever your thing is. I can't stay long, though."
He even knew where she - wait, come to the house? Oh God, no - far too risky! She screwed up her face, thinking desperately. "That's very kind of you! But why don't I make things easier? There's a nice little cafe just off Ealing Broadway, Rosalie's - it's ten minutes from the Bubble Shock site. If we meet there, you'll still be close to the M4. Saves you getting stuck in more London traffic than you have to. And I can buy you lunch if you have time."
"Sarah Jane Smith, are you flirting with me?" The playful tone was back, and she laughed in spite of herself.
"Not at all! I'd appreciate your help, and I don't want to add to your bad week, that's all."
"I'm sure meeting you will make the whole trip worthwhile." God, he was slick. "Okay, it's a deal. I'll give you a call when I'm at the factory. See you tomorrow." And with that he hung up, leaving Sarah Jane still clutching the receiver tightly, feeling rushed and now hopelessly awake. With a sigh, she put it back on the cradle and fussed with her pillows. What on earth was she going to say to Luke?
***
Part 4
Part 3
"T is for Torchwood. This is the Torchwood logo, and Ian drew it on the bathroom mirror this morning."
She'd dug up a UNIT file and printed out the linked hexagonal T-symbol she'd recognised with a feeling of dread, and then had to wait, fretting for the rest of the morning, until they'd all had lunch and Clyde had come back.
In spite of his quick recovery, Ian still had little energy for anything more strenuous than reading the papers or playing video games with Luke. Now he was in the living room, safely asleep again under the Sunday Times, but Sarah Jane still found herself whispering across the kitchen table as she placed the printed page in the middle.
Maria looked thoughtful. Clyde shook his head, shrugging, but Luke nodded.
"The Torchwood Institute. Founded in 1879 by Queen Victoria, to defend the British Empire against the threat of infiltration and attack by alien forces."
Sarah Jane looked at him sharply. "How do you know about Torchwood?" she asked, just as Clyde was saying, "Aliens? Queen Victoria? You've got to be having a laugh, right?"
Luke looked guilty. "Sorry. I asked Mr Smith to tell me everything he knew about verified alien activity on Earth. I didn't think that was wrong. Torchwood came up a lot."
"I'm sure it did," she said grimly. "Don't worry, I understand that you're curious. It's just - Torchwood. And yes, Clyde, Queen Victoria encountered aliens. A race of haemovores - alien werewolves - trying to assassinate her. She was lucky that the Doctor was there to save her."
"Your friend the Doctor?" Maria asked. Sarah Jane nodded. "So he told her to set up this - Torchwood Institute - to protect herself?"
"No, that's the stupid part. He saved her, and she decided that he was the biggest alien threat of them all! Victoria created Torchwood, gave them total power to do what they liked, with one rule - the name right at the top of Torchwood's list of threats to the Empire was to be the Doctor himself!" She shook her head, annoyed. "And they've been like that ever since - arrogant, violent, quite hopeless... Remember when we first met, Maria? I told you there were people out there whose idea of protecting the Earth was to go in with guns blazing. Well, that's Torchwood. Shoot first, and never apologise afterwards. They think they have all the answers, and that's what makes them more dangerous than anything."
Luke was frowning. "But they don't exist anymore. Mr Smith said there was a battle, just before I - came here. Torchwood was destroyed."
"Their headquarters, yes. The battle at Canary Wharf." She closed her eyes, remembering and suddenly regretting her angry outburst. UNIT had helped with the clean-up: she'd seen some of the reports. "It was a terrible massacre - whatever Torchwood had done, the people there never deserved it. Hundreds were killed, almost everyone who worked there. The people in charge of Torchwood had become so sure, so certain they had all the answers, and they were so wrong. A catastrophe..."
"Canary Wharf?" Clyde chipped in "Hey, I remember that - the big tower that got bombed. They said on the news that was terrorists, wasn't it?"
Cybermen and Daleks, and memories she never wanted anyone else to have to bear. "Terrorists - yes, in a way I suppose they were. Just terrorists from another planet, another dimension even. Not human, and totally without any mercy."
"But if Torchwood was destroyed," Luke persisted, "How can it have anything to do with Ian?"
"Oh well, you see, not all of Torchwood was in London. They had a couple of regional offices, if you like - one in Glasgow and one in Cardiff. And one that's sort of... gone walkabout."
"Cardiff in Wales?" Maria exclaimed. "But Ian's Welsh! You can hear his accent, now he's starting to speak again. You - you think he's one of them? From this Torchwood?"
"Oh no, no," Sarah Jane shook her head, thinking about the way Ian spoke, realising Maria was right. "But I think maybe he's met them. Look, the man who runs what's left of Torchwood invented a drug called Retcon. They use it all the time - to hide what they're doing, or to make sure people who've had alien encounters won't remember what happened to them. And Retcon is an amnesia drug! It wipes memories completely. The last day of your life, or the last week, month. However much of your past they want to obliterate."
Across the table, three pairs of eyes widened.
"Exactly! It's one of the things I've always hated about Torchwood. They think they have a right to decide what other people can know, and that's just wrong. People need to know the truth, not be left walking around with holes in their memories. Retcon is a horrible weapon, and Torchwood uses it just because it makes things easier for them. No matter what harm it might be doing to the people they've drugged!"
"Ian's been given Retcon!" Luke breathed.
"I think so, yes. It would explain why he's lost so much of his memory. Who knows what dosage he might have been given?"
"Whoa, hang on," Clive interrupted. "If Torchwood uses this Retcon drug to wipe out memories, how come he can still remember their logo?"
"I don't know," Sarah Jane admitted. "But Retcon isn't foolproof. Some people react differently to it - a few of them aren't affected by it at all. Sometimes, memories that don't get completely lost. UNIT medics seem to think it could even be reversed by accident, if the victim sees something that reminds them strongly enough of whatever they were supposed to forget."
"Anyway, he can't be from Torchwood," Luke insisted. "The way you describe them - that's not Ian at all."
"Why don't we just ask him?" Clyde suggested.
"Maybe we'll have to." She sighed, hesitating. "Right now, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I know I said people shouldn't be kept in the dark, but... Look, someone shot at that man, wiped his memory and brought him here, to a ruined building hundreds of miles from Wales. If that was Torchwood, then the last thing they'll want is him remembering why. If he remembers what happened to him, tries to go back, I don't know what they might do. Take away every memory he's ever had, wipe his mind completely, even - Retcon can do that. They might do something worse."
"Then he's safer here. If he stays here, he'll be fine. He can get a job, we can help him find somewhere to live. And Torchwood won't be able to hurt him anymore." Luke was nodding as he spoke, no doubt at all in his mind. But Maria looked less convinced.
"Okay, none of us wants anything more to happen to him. We want him to be safe. But he's not happy like this - not remembering, not knowing who he is. And even if we're trying to protect him, he might start to remember by himself anyway, you said."
"But people don't always react well to the truth," Luke argued. "Remember when you finally told your Dad about all the stuff that was happening here? He freaked out - wanted to move house and make sure you never saw us again!"
Clyde was nodding. "And if this Torchwood lot are so dangerous, maybe it's just better for everyone if they never find him again - or us, for that matter. But what if they track him down to here anyway?"
"I don't know. Look, I'm not saying they're murderers, it's just - " Sarah Jane broke off, trying to find the right words. "It's Torchwood - something about that place always gets to me! Too many guns, not nearly enough compassion. I don't know what to do, I really don't."
"So, is he safe staying here like he is now, with no idea of who he is?"
"Not just him - us too! Are we safe hiding him here?"
"But it's not just what's safest, it's about what's right! If we think we might know anything about what's happened to him, don't we have to tell him?"
Sarah Jane closed her eyes, listening to the three of them quietly but passionately chewing it over. They made a good team, she thought: none of them afraid to speak up, all of them ready to listen to each other. More than anything, she knew they'd all want to find some way to ultimately agree with each other. It was lucky they -
There was a quiet cough behind her.
"Excuse me," Ian was standing in the kitchen doorway. "Sorry to interrupt. Wondered if I could make myself some coffee? I can't stay asleep all the time."
His voice was getting stronger now: no mistaking the Welsh lilt that Maria had picked up. "Of course - you're not interrupting. I've got filter coffee somewhere if you want something a bit better than instant..."
She tailed off. Ian was staring at the sheet of paper in the middle of the table. Too late to whip it out of sight. Oh, how stupid!
Keeping her voice carefully calm, Sarah Jane said, "Do you recognise that?"
"Yes," Ian said. He paused. "It's the symbol I drew on the bathroom mirror this morning. Thought I'd cleaned up in there, sorry."
"Do you know what it is?"
He shook his head, frowning. "No idea. I was dreaming last night - can't remember much, just a jumble of random, um, stuff. But I was standing in front of a window at some point, and that shape was on it. Thought it might jog my memory if I drew it in the steam, like the way I'd dreamed it."
"Did it?" Maria asked.
"No, not really. It's all too vague, like a feeling of things - stone walls, a man yelling. Smell of metal..." He sighed, but Sarah Jane smiled brightly at him.
"Cheer up! This is good - you are starting to remember at last! I don't remember seeing this sign in the Bubble Shock warehouse, which might mean it's something you've seen from before that - before whatever happened to you, yes?"
Ian nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yes, I suppose... Do you know what it is?"
Under the table, Sarah Jane crossed her fingers. "I'm not sure. But I think I know a man who might be able to help figure it out."
She caught the look of distress on Luke's face, Maria biting her lip, Clyde suddenly very still. Ian, though, let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God! Who is he? When can you speak to him?"
So happy at the possibility of finally finding out who he was. Sarah Jane sighed. "The thing is, this man, he's, well, he's - a bit odd. I've never met him, but we've talked a couple of times." Probably best not to mention - to Ian or any of the kids - that the maverick Captain Harkness had tried to recruit her to join Torchwood, a few years ago. "Rather unconventional, you might say, and not always reliable. Before I approach him, I want to be sure we really don't have any other options. Just in case he knows the people who did this to you in the first place."
Ian looked disappointed for a moment, then nodded. "Good thinking, yeah. Best play it safe. I just - " He waved a hand at himself. " - this is all very... must be inconvenient for you. Having to look after some stranger coming out of nowhere, I mean."
"Not at all!" She caught Luke's eye and smiled reassuringly. "Not nearly as unusual as you might think. Look, it doesn't matter how long this takes, you're welcome to stay with us as long as you need to. Now, let's see if I can remember where I put my cafetière -"
"It's in the pantry! Come with me!" Luke almost bounced out of his chair, smiling again. Clyde waited until they were both out of the room, before pointing at the sheet of paper and saying softly, "I take it this unreliable guy you mentioned works for that lot, then?"
"He's the boss."
"The boss? The one you said invented this Retcon drug?" Maria looked agitated, but she was also whispering. Sarah Jane nodded.
"I know. Look, maybe Ian's memory is coming back by itself anyway. Let's leave it another day or two, see what happens. I'm not in any rush to pick up the phone to that man, don't worry!"
***
After lunch, it fell back into being a pretty average Sunday afternoon. Ian fussed quietly with the cafetière, finally producing a brew that Maria and Luke both sampled reluctantly ("Gah!" Maria exclaimed, horrified. "I'll stick with the Nescafe") but which Sarah Jane had to admit tasted far better than she'd usually managed to make herself. Ian started on a long, detailed explanation to Luke of the science of perfect coffee, but it made him go hoarse again, so he sat at the table and wrote everything down, his handwriting faster and also noticeably loopier after the second cup.
Coffee Manifesto, he wrote at the top of the page, underlining it and adding a small doodled crown. Luke leaned over his shoulder, pointing. "What's the crown for?"
I'm the King of Coffee, Ian scrawled, and Clyde laughed.
"Ahh, got it, mate! You're not a millionaire - you're one of those barista guys in Starbucks!"
Ian smiled, inclining his head as he scribbled. Mystery solved! Congratulations, Clint.
The living room had, of course, been tidied thoroughly while they'd been debating in the kitchen. There was something faintly unreal about the sight of her sofa with all the cushions plumped and smoothed and neatly arranged at each corner.
Luke wanted Clyde and Maria to challenge Ian on the Wii game they'd been playing that morning. Sarah Jane left them all to it, taking her laptop out into the garden to see if she could finish her corporate manslaughter article at last. It was quite a warm day for early May, and the garden was starting to sprout everywhere. It took willpower not to start wandering around, poking at the vine growing over the dilapidated gazebo to see if pruning it back might stop the whole thing falling over, or starting the mammoth task of weeding the flowerbeds. She liked gardening, but since Luke had arrived, it had to be said that she'd let things slide.
Still, work was work. Most of the article was already written, and she was finally making good progress - enough to feel briefly irritated when the kitchen door opened and the kids trooped out into the garden.
"We had to put the Wii away," Luke said. "Maria thinks we were making Ian go mopey again."
"That's not what I said!" Maria exclaimed. "He's an adult, Luke. Maybe he doesn't want to sit around all day playing Metroid Prime III with a bunch of kids."
"Only because we both kept beating the pants off him," Clyde said cheerfully. "Anyway, he probably just needed another nap. Right, we can't hang around here. You're not the only one with work to do, Sarah Jane!"
"Oh - don't tell me you're starting your half-term projects already?"
"No, we're going to bike over to the Bubble Shock plant, have a dig around. Investigate! See if there's anything there, like that Torchwood sign thing, maybe. Or some other clues."
She wanted to tell them not to go, but there didn't seem much point - not that Clyde and Maria were obliged to take any notice of her anyway. And the truth was, if they were in the habit of following leads, satisfying their curiosity no matter how risky, well, she only had to look in the nearest mirror to see whose example they were following.
All she could do was wave them off, with firm instructions not to hang around, to watch where they were walking and to get out immediately if they saw anyone else or found anything suspicious. "Especially that logo!"
It had only been a short interruption, but her concentration had ebbed away. Now, her thoughts kept straying back to the Bubble Shock factory, remembering that first sight of Ian crouched in a dark cupboard, fearful and lost. And that only made her think of the first time she'd seen Luke, of course, hiding in the Ladies with Maria. There was something eerily similar in the way they'd both stared at her, so helplessly confused...
Not really the same at all. Ian had a past, even if he'd been forcibly relieved of it, but at least there was a chance he could recover his memories. For Luke, there had been nothing before that unique, terrifying moment of coming into full human consciousness. She'd tried before to imagine what it must have been like for him, the shock and fear. Enough to drive anyone mad! Not her son, though: even then, right from the start, he'd trusted her to help him. And all he'd wanted to do was the right thing. Is that good or bad?, he'd asked her, again and again about every new thing he encountered: names, books, a cup of tea. Always trusting that she would know the right answer.
Sometimes, it felt like an impossible burden. And sometimes it made her feel that she finally understood the Doctor, in ways that wouldn't have been possible before. She'd always trusted that he would have the right answers, that he'd keep her safe, never once thinking about the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Maybe that was why he never travelled with any one companion for too long. Was Rose Tyler still there with him?
Sarah Jane shook her head. This wasn't getting the writing done! Maybe one more small cup of Ian's lethally strong coffee, to help her focus? She'd have to hang on to that list of instructions he'd scrawled out, for the next time Alistair came to stay - another man who loved coffee that took the lining off your throat on the way down.
The house was quiet. In the kitchen, as she squeezed one last cup out of the cafetière, the utility room door opened and Ian came out, his shoes in his hand. He jumped at the sight of her, then smiled brightly. "My, uh, feet were getting a bit cold. Thought I'd see if these were OK."
The shoes had been cleaned and polished back to a flawless lustre. Sarah Jane nodded. "You've done a good job with those! Sorry, I totally forgot about socks. Shoes won't be very comfortable around the house, though - I'll give Luke a call, see if he can pop over to the shops on his way back. Marks & Spencer might still be open."
Ian hesitated, then said smoothly, "If you tell me where the shops are, I could walk there myself. Could do with stretching my legs, you know. Bit of fresh air."
He was glib, but she knew he wasn't thinking about a quick trip to the shops and back. There was an odd tension in him, the way he glanced at her and then back at the shoes, not looking up again.
He was planning to run away, she was certain of it, though she couldn't say why. She kept her voice light. "You know, two days ago you fainted dead away right here in this kitchen, young man. Let's not go wild just yet. Why don't you come with me and have a stroll around the garden first, see how you feel? It's nice out there."
He didn't argue, just put the shoes down and followed her meekly out, barefoot. They walked around the lawn, as Sarah Jane pointed out the plant that wasn't really an Earth-sourced hellebore, taking up a bit too much of the side wall now, and the rockery that was crying out for a good weeding, before ending up back by the gazebo. She gestured at the laptop.
"I've just got to finish the last bit of this article, then I can get it sent off. Do you mind if I...?" He nodded and sat down next to her, eyes closed and face turned to catch the gentle May sunshine as she tapped out the final revisions. He looked as if he might have dozed off, but when she shut the lid of the laptop he spoke without opening his eyes.
"Luke said you're a journalist. Funny working hours come with the job, I suppose."
"I think that's more to do with me putting everything off until the last possible minute of every deadline, though that's a great journalist's tradition too, of course."
He nodded, then sat up, pointing up at the gazebo behind them. "The frame there, that corner's come right out of its joint. Working loose at the top, too. Might not be all that safe, you know."
"I know," Sarah Jane sighed. "I keep meaning to do something about that. I have this terrible stepladder, though - I'm always scared it's going to collapse under me."
"I could do it," Ian offered. "If you have tools - it'd just need a hammer and a bit of epoxy to go in the socket."
She frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, not yet. What if you get dizzy again and fall over, or -"
"Your son, the others, you let them go back to that place where you found me -" She started to speak but this time he ploughed on, determined in spite of his still-faltering voice. "I heard them talking in the kitchen, and they're just kids. How do you know they won't be in danger there? You can't let them do that and, and - sit here worrying about someone you don't know falling off a stepladder!"
She couldn't exactly explain to him that the children had taken on unimaginable dangers, alien warriors and monsters, and beaten them every time. "I trust them. They may be 'just kids' but they're pretty smart, you know? Anyway, it's not as if I could tell Maria and Clyde what to do."
"You could. They look up to you, all of them. They're your responsibility." He hesitated, the anxiety clear on his face. "I can't stay here. I shouldn't be here. You don't know anything about me, how can you be sure that they're safe with me? I could be a mon- anything. Dangerous."
"Yes, I suppose that's possible. But come on, be sensible for a minute, think of the odds. Sixty million people in this country, and how many of them are really evil? It's a tiny fraction, Ian, and you're not one of them. The evil people are the ones who did this to you, stole your memories, shot you, left you to... Well, they weren't trying to help you. And I love my son, and Maria and Clyde too. Believe me, I wouldn't let you stay here with us if I thought for one minute you were any kind of a threat to them or me."
He frowned, slumping back on the garden bench, shoulders drooping.
"Can't help thinking about that too. If there's someone out there looking for me. Like - people, family worrying. Not knowing what's happened. Or maybe no-one's even noticed I'm gone." He gave a small, rusty laugh. "Don't really know which would be worse."
"Oh, someone's missing you, I'm sure of it." She thought of the Slitheen and their horrible plan to get hold of Luke, the moment when they'd stolen her child away. She'd never have imagined that she could feel so alone. "God forbid, but if Luke was ever lost, I'd have to hope someone out there would keep him safe, look after him until I could find him and bring him home. And that's exactly why you need to stay right here with us, d'you see?"
He nodded, sighing. "I understand. And you're very kind. I just - have to do something, you know? Can't just sit around all day waiting for my memory to come back."
She stood up, picking up the laptop. "Well, I tell you what. Let's go in and get your dressing changed, and if it's still doing well, I promise to show you where the key to the toolshed is - you can take your chances with my death-trap stepladder tomorrow, if you're still feeling like you need a job to do!"
***
Luke came back alone: Maria and Clyde had gone home. "We didn't find anything," he announced to Sarah Jane, sounding not in the least bit unhappy about that. Behind him in the living room, Ian sat down heavily on the couch, not looking at either of them.
Maybe he was just tired. She'd been right to tell him to take it slow. Luke seemed to be the only one of them with any energy left. After tea, he brought down his science project books to show Ian, who nodded politely as Luke turned the pages, pointing out press cuttings of reports from the Phoenix expedition or the countdown to activating the Hadron Collider in Geneva. Occasionally, Ian would ask a question in that frail and charmingly-accented voice, but to Sarah Jane's eye he seemed distracted or lost in thought. Luke carried on regardless, thrilled to be sharing his hobby with someone who was apparently quite at home with a detailed discussion of quark-gluon plasma.
Sarah Jane emailed the finished article off to her editor and checked for new mail. Ah, poor Colonel Wells must have been working on a Sunday, too. He'd sent her the UNIT report on the Bubble Shock fire. It was disappointing, though: short, and with nothing exceptional. A small but intense fire, under control within half an hour from the first alert (UNIT had a couple of sensors installed at the factory, as a standard precaution on all sites with a record of alien activity). The Fire Service had suggested an electrical fault - after all, the whole ruined factory was classed as unsafe, and there were still flammable materials there that hadn't been consumed in the explosion that had destroyed the Bane.
It was only when she'd finished reading the report that she noticed the message at the end of the Colonel's email.
I thought you should know this is the second request I've had this weekend for that report. Torchwood want to see it, something to do with logging baryon spikes? No other explanation - you know what they're like. I wanted to check with you before sending it to Captain Harkness. Should I delay replying? Anything I need to know?"
"Oh," she said aloud. Torchwood. Harkness. It couldn't be a coincidence. She started typing her reply to Colonel Wells, feeling rattled. Nothing to worry about but thank you for asking. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't any possibility the Bane were coming back! Please let Captain Harkness have the report. Who knows what Torchwood are up to this time!
When she glanced up, Ian was watching her, eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
"It's an email from a friend. I - I'm pretty sure now that the man I told you about today does know something about what happened to you. It looks like I'll have to get in touch with him."
Ian's "Good!" came at the same time as Luke's loud "No!" He shook his head to underline the point. "You said he was unreliable. Why do we have to tell him anything?"
"Because I need to know, Luke." Ian said quietly.
"Why? You're safe here. Why can't you just leave things as they are?" His face fell. "Don't you like it here? Is it me?"
Ian shook his head. He wasn't smiling. "No of course not. When you found me, you just wanted to help me. You've all been - Luke, listen to me. I look at you and all I can think is, where is my family, my friends? Are they missing me? Are they safe? I have to find out."
"What if there's no-one waiting for you?" Luke said bluntly.
"Luke!"
He ignored her: all his attention was on Ian. "Why aren't they looking for you, then? There might not be anyone - look!" He jumped to his feet, pointing at her and the room around them. "Before Mum found me, I didn't have a life, I didn't have anything. All this is me, and I'm happy! Can't you just be happy here with us?"
"No," Ian whispered, shaking his head, but he didn't look away. It was Luke who turned abruptly and left, hurrying up the stairs. The bathroom door slammed shut and after a moment, she heard the sound of the shower running.
Ian was picking up Luke's scrapbooks, folding loose pages carefully back into place as he stacked them together. Sarah Jane helped him.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Did you know that I adopted Luke? About a year ago now."
He nodded. "He told me yesterday. He's very proud: it makes sense, why he's being - He wants to help, I understand that. It's good that he feels so safe with you..." His voice had faded down to a whisper again, but she didn't think it was the laryngitis this time.
When he looked up again, he was frowning. "Sarah Jane, there's something you need to see." He glanced towards the stairs: the shower was still running overhead. He switched the Wii console back on, selecting a cartridge from Luke's shelf of games. She didn't know which one, they all looked much the same to her.
"Watch," Ian said urgently as the game started up. It was some kind of urban battlezone that reminded her for one brief, nasty moment of the Kudlak and their Combat 3000 arena.
In front of the TV, Ian was standing still, the console's remote controller held loosely at his side. He turned the sound down almost completely, and as the first little figure scuttled across the screen, there was a sudden change: feet apart, the hand of his bandaged arm clasping the other's wrist, Ian was upright, still, utterly focused.
Shooting.
She could hear the muffled gunfire, see the little animated figures flying about the screen, tiny distant screams and yells as he aimed and fired over and over, hand rock-steady. She hardly needed to see the score tally whizzing up at the bottom of the screen.
The screen cleared, flashing up cheery congratulations for a new high score, and Ian moved quickly, shutting the game down and turning the machine off. Sarah Jane was on her feet, staring at him.
He was breathing a little faster, but his expression was calm. "D'you see?"
She took a breath, let it out slowly. "I take it that wasn't the beginner level?"
"I cranked it up as high as it could go." He placed the remote gently down next to the console. "We were playing this afternoon, Clyde got this game out. It was the first shoot-em-up we'd played. Mario Olympics and Guitar Hero before that. The moment it was my turn, I realised - Don't worry, I made sure they didn't see what I could do. How well I could..."
"So, so you've been spending a bit too much time on arcade games," Sarah Jane said faintly, trying to smile.
"It's no game. I know how to shoot, I mean, shoot really well. Can't explain it, but I know what I'm doing. How to stand, how to think..."
Guns, she hated guns so much. Sarah Jane took a breath, trying to stay calm. "Alright, alright. You're - you can hit a target. But that doesn't mean anything by itself! You could be a sportsman - shooting is an Olympic sport, you know. Or, oh, a policeman, in the military, something like that?"
"Yes, I could be." He stared her down, his face set. "Or I could be something worse. I don't think a trained marksman with no memory is the kind of person who should be under the same roof as you, or your son, or his friends. Right?"
He was still calm, oddly determined as he held her gaze. Sarah Jane hesitated. "Look, I'm certain you're not a threat -"
"But you can't be certain. That man you mentioned, the one who might know what happened to me. Is he any kind of threat to you? Could he harm you, or Luke or the others?"
She wrestled with the idea of how to explain Captain Jack Harkness. The wild rumours, the UNIT files she'd read and the handful of stilted, innuendo-laden conversations she'd had with him. "Not to me, no, I don't think so. He's a sort of law unto himself, more than anything. I suppose that makes him dangerous in a way... But it's you I'm worried about. If he finds you through me, I can't be sure what he'd do - except to look after his own interests, not yours or anyone else's. If I talk to him, Ian, I can't promise you'll still be safe."
"Then don't do it for my sake. Do it to protect Luke. Maria. Clyde. Yourself. Please."
He kept his eyes on her, pleading silently, until she nodded. It felt like a betrayal. "Alright, I'll call him. Tomorrow, though. I promise, but it can wait until tomorrow."
Ian nodded solemnly, and went back to tidying Luke's scrapbooks away.
In bed that night, she reached out to turn off the bedside lamp, but her own thoughts refused to be so easily dimmed. Luke hadn't come back downstairs after his shower, and she'd left him in peace - partly because she didn't want to crowd him, and at the end of the day he really was a teenager, one who could be as touchy and insecure as any of his peers. Mostly, though, the truth was that she didn't want to face him and have to tell him the truth. I'm going to call Captain Harkness. I have to, Luke. It's for the best.
Not for Ian, she was sure of it. Torchwood, who existed to hunt down the Doctor as if he was the enemy of humankind! Torchwood in London had destroyed the Sycorax ship, even as it was fleeing from Earth. She hadn't paid them much attention before that Christmas: after that, she'd worked her way through the UNIT archives, charting the rise of the Institute from Queen Victoria to their gleaming glass tower dominating the skyline at Canary Wharf.
A secret organisation with enough boundless arrogance to hide in plain sight and defy anyone to try to act against it. She'd seen reports of failed exposés by journalists going back over decades, every story quashed by interventions from the Government of the day, the secret services... In recent years, one UNIT archivist had noted acidly, there was a statistically significant incidence of people investigating Torchwood who suffered mental breakdowns or sought psychiatric help for memory loss or clinical paranoia.
Almost as bad was the fact that Torchwood couldn't even protect its own. Years ago, she'd heard UNIT personnel jokingly refer to Torchwood as the James Dean Gang. Live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse. In the darkness she sighed. There had been something only recently... a terrorist attack on Cardiff last month, or what the media had called terrorists. UNIT had classed it as an alien incursion, through the space-time Rift there, with two Torchwood operatives killed in the bombings, along with nine other fatalities that night. And hadn't Torchwood Cardiff only been a handful of people anyway?
Another terrible thought struck her - Oh God, could Ian have been involved in that attack? But that had happened weeks ago, a month at least. He wasn't an alien, Mr Smith had been certain. And even if he was tied up in it all, somehow, then what was Torchwood doing - meting out its own brand of justice? Oh, that was all too likely, though. Torchwood had always been happy playing judge, jury and executioner, she thought furiously, even before Canary Wharf. Harkness was no different to Yvonne Hartman and all her ruthless predecessors. Given what Torchwood thought of the Doctor, nothing they did could be all that surprising. It was -
The phone rang, shocking her out of her thoughts. Her alarm clock read 00.54 in its soft blue glow. She fumbled for the phone by the bed - who on earth would call at that time of night? Maria? Clyde? UNIT? No, they'd have rung her mobile. Wrong number, most likely.
"Hello?" she said cautiously, and a man's voice boomed, "Sarah Jane Smith, it's been a while!"
Her shock this time was so great, she nearly dropped the receiver. That accent - American, loud, confident - it couldn't be! How could he have possibly...? No, too great a coincidence, it had to be her mistake. "Who - who is this?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already? Now that hurts. Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am. We need to talk."
It was him. How? "Captain... Harkness," she said weakly, playing for time to let her brain catch up "This is a - I hope this is something urgent, do you have any idea how late it is?"
"Yeah, sorry about that." There wasn't even a hint of contrition in his voice. "Working all hours, we're kind of short-staffed here at the moment."
She felt a surge of remorse. "Of course - I'm so sorry for your loss, you must be finding it hard -"
"What do you mean?" Harkness snapped, his voice suddenly harsh.
"The attack in Cardiff last month - I read the UNIT reports. Your people, they..." There had been personnel photographs. She couldn't remember the names, but the faces had stayed with her. The woman pretty and slight, with a shy smile. A pale, sharp-faced man favouring the camera with a cocky smirk. Both so ridiculously young. "I meant, you must miss them. I can't imagine -"
"Yes we do, and no you can't. Okay listen, I need to check something with you. That factory in Ealing, where you took the Bane incursion out last year - nice piece of work, by the way - UNIT reported a fire there a week ago. You know anything about that?"
She weighed up the risk of being caught out lying any more than she had to. "Yes, my son mentioned it - some of the other children at his school were talking about it. I asked Colonel Wells to send me -"
"- You have a son?" Harkness cut across her. "Don't remember that on your file."
It was tempting to tell him to mind his own business. Sarah Jane gritted her teeth: she needed to keep him as friendly as she could manage. "Yes, Luke - I adopted him. He's wonderful, I had no idea - "
"Huh, must be something in the air," Harkness was interrupting again. "Everyone's settling down - marriages, engagements, parenthood. You're all going to make me nostalgic if you keep this up. So why did you ask UNIT to send you the report?"
The sudden jump back on-topic threw her for a moment. "Oh, you know - well, maybe you don't, unless you've encountered the Bane yourself. They nearly took over the planet last year. Perhaps I'm just a little paranoid now. I wanted to be sure they weren't back here and up to something else."
"Yeah, I've met 'em. If you're feeling jittery, go get yourself a pressure jet and a couple of litres of sodium chlorate - they won't bother you after that, I guarantee. Did you go check out the fire?"
"No, the UNIT report said it was just an electrical fault." This was crazy, she needed to get a grip on the conversation. "Captain Harkness, not that I don't enjoy a good interrogation by phone in the middle of the night, but what exactly is Torchwood's interest in all this? Is there something I should be worrying about?"
He laughed. "Hey, call me Jack. And I'm sorry, I'm not exactly having a good week right now. What do you know about Bane technology?"
It was her turn to laugh. "Not much. I'm just a journalist."
"Yeah, right. I've seen your files, ma'am - including the ones your old buddy Lethbridge-Stewart didn't want me to hack. I'll have to tell you all about Toshiko Sato one day - she wasn't UNIT's greatest fan, my Toshiko. Okay, the Bane use a form of harnessed sub-particle cascade based on baryon fission, and I'm trying to track down recent surges in baryon radiation. Like your fire down there. I guess UNIT didn't do as good a job on the alien tech clear-up as Torchwood would've."
"Well apparently not," she replied, more tartly than she'd meant to. Snooping around in her restricted files, indeed! Sarah Jane shook herself. "So, will you be coming here to check the site for yourself?"
"Probably not any time soon. Like you say, it looks like the baryon spike wasn't significant, just a residual contamination footprint kicked up by the fire. I've got a few more leads to go through for now. Just thought it was worth a call to you - and it gives me an excuse to keep in touch, you know."
Check up on me, you mean! Pulling her mouth into a reluctant smile in the darkness, Sarah Jane said, "That's a pity, Jack! You know, I'd been meaning to give you a call myself. Something I've been wanting your advice on, it's a little complicated, actually, but if we could meet, maybe -"
"Yep, another time, I guess -" Harkness broke off abruptly: someone else was speaking in the background. A woman's voice. With a quick stab of insult piled on insult, Sarah Jane realised that Harkness had been talking to her on a speakerphone! She gripped her own phone hard as the voices debated something too softly for her to hear, then the Captain was back at full blast. "Okay, change of plan. I'm going to drive down to London tomorrow, that way I can check the site out for myself, cross it off the list for certain, then I can swing by Bannerman Road and see if I can help with whatever your thing is. I can't stay long, though."
He even knew where she - wait, come to the house? Oh God, no - far too risky! She screwed up her face, thinking desperately. "That's very kind of you! But why don't I make things easier? There's a nice little cafe just off Ealing Broadway, Rosalie's - it's ten minutes from the Bubble Shock site. If we meet there, you'll still be close to the M4. Saves you getting stuck in more London traffic than you have to. And I can buy you lunch if you have time."
"Sarah Jane Smith, are you flirting with me?" The playful tone was back, and she laughed in spite of herself.
"Not at all! I'd appreciate your help, and I don't want to add to your bad week, that's all."
"I'm sure meeting you will make the whole trip worthwhile." God, he was slick. "Okay, it's a deal. I'll give you a call when I'm at the factory. See you tomorrow." And with that he hung up, leaving Sarah Jane still clutching the receiver tightly, feeling rushed and now hopelessly awake. With a sigh, she put it back on the cradle and fussed with her pillows. What on earth was she going to say to Luke?
***
Part 4