sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-17 02:25 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-17 02:25 pm
Entry tags:
The Theory of Two Centres 6/8
Title: The Theory of Two Centres
Pairings: Canon. Set post-S2.
Summary: "Water pistols," Ianto observed. "We're going to save the world using water pistols."
Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
la_rainette, adina_atl, and spiderine for advice on fighting, firearms, italics, titles, eggs, and grammar. All are important!
Chapter Six
There were dozens of new readings to be sifted through, that much was evident. None of the other Eggs had come down anywhere near the kind of sensitive equipment they kept in the Hub. There were machines to measure everything from its density on arrival to the width and breadth of the rift it had passed through, and aside from that there were other readings from past events to compare it to. By the time Ianto and Martha returned, Jack and Gwen had covered a board with bits of paper and diagrams, some hand-drawn.
"It's a theory," Jack was saying as they entered. "It's good, but it's still a theory."
"But it makes sense!" Gwen insisted, then fell silent when she saw them waiting for the cage doors to open. Jack turned with a ready smile.
"No suit?" he asked. Ianto looked down at the oxford shirt and jeans.
"No, thanks," he replied, and gestured Martha through the doors first.
"Still a gentleman though," she said, walking up to the board. "So, what've we got?"
Jack looked amused. "Here it is. Eggs, scrambled."
"You're awful."
"Look at this," Gwen said, moving past Jack to the left side of the board. "Here's a normal Rift spike, right?"
"Normal," Martha repeated.
"Well, natural. Occurring on its own. Here's the spike, random activity patterns, and then an afterspike," Gwen continued, fingers tracing what looked to Ianto like an arbitrary series of lines. "We've dozens of these, hundreds if you go back far enough. Here," she added, pointing to another group of lines on a separate sheet of paper, "is what we took off the last two intentional spikes. When we -- "
She glanced at Jack, who gestured for her to continue.
"When we opened the Rift last year, using the Manipulator, and again when John Hart opened it a few months ago. They're not controlled, but they're more regular. And if we fit the last time the Manipulator opened the Rift up against the readings the computers grabbed last night when the Egg came through..."
She pulled one of the charts off the board and held it up over a third chart, aiming a lamp at both of them. The lines weren't the same length, but they were in all the same places.
"It's definitely intentional," she finished.
"Hadn't we already decided that?" Ianto asked, confused.
"It's just proof. Groundwork, right? So, now, look at where the Eggs came down. One in Cardiff, very near the Rift, underground. Then one in London, bit further off, aboveground. Then one still aboveground in America, but then after that we're back to Cardiff, over the Bay -- really close by," Gwen's words were picking up as she established each location. "Like they were aiming for us and got close, then a bit further off, then further off still, then they realised what they were doing -- "
"And came back to Cardiff. Went the other way," Martha finished. "Happens to me driving round London sometimes. You get lost, you finally see you're going the wrong way, you get your bearings and turn around."
"And then the next one's actually in the Hub," Gwen finished. "So could be they're aiming for us."
"Or it's a random pattern that keeps hitting us because we're on the Rift," Jack added. "We don't know yet."
"Not enough data -- just like whoever's sending them," Gwen replied.
"Seems pretty solid to me," Martha said. "Ianto?"
"I...think I don't understand enough about these to know," Ianto found himself saying, with an ingratiating grin for Gwen. In the back of his mind some sort of alarm was going off, but it was distant and unimportant at the moment. "Got one or two ideas, though," he added.
"Oh?" Gwen tilted her head.
"Let me..." he glanced at the tech desk. "Research. Let me polish them a bit. Am I still cleared on everything in the database?"
"Should be."
"Probably best for him anyway," Martha smiled at him. "Sit, work, rest a bit. I'm going to have a look at some of this kit -- "
"Readings," Gwen said, holding up another sheaf of paper. "Jack?"
Jack looked oddly amused. "Don't let theory get in the way of evidence. I'll help Martha."
Ianto settled into the chair at the tech desk without difficulty, Martha and Jack at the workbench on the other side. Gwen gave him an odd look -- oh, of course, he was sitting in Toshiko's chair.
Lovely, vulnerable Toshiko --
He turned his mind back to the computer. Jack could see everything he looked at, if he wanted, but Jack was going over some odd boxy wire contraption, explaining the triggering mechanism to Martha. Still...
He logged into the database and began carefully researching around the subject he wanted, calling up specs on the toys Martha and Jack were working on, revisiting some of the profiles on the various aliens he'd found. Sure enough, after about an hour, Jack went back into his office and logged on briefly. Ianto continued to page through the report he was on, watching Jack out of the corner of his eye. He could simply be looking for some supporting research on whatever it was that he and Martha were working on -- but he could be checking Ianto's search history, too.
Jack frowned and glanced at him. Ianto kept his head still, bowed over one of the monitors. Finally Jack stopped to speak to Gwen, a hand on her shoulder, and then returned to Martha.
Ianto began edging towards what he was looking for -- really, the database was easy if he just let his hands move, let old half-buried memories come to the fore. Cross-reference this item with notes in Owen's medical library, call up a few of Owen's other files -- password protected but he knew all the passwords...
"Ianto," Jack said, and Ianto carefully didn't look up from the monitor.
"Mh?" he asked, calling up a new file to cover the old window instead of closing it down.
"Lunch?"
Ianto did look up then; Jack folded his hands in a plea.
"Right...any preferences?" he asked, closing out the windows one by one. He'd got a start, anyway.
While the others debated what to eat, he left the desk and made coffee. By the time he was passing round mugs, they'd narrowed it to "that curry place on Letton, you know the one" and Jubilee pizza.
"Listen, seriously, I don't care," Jack said, as Gwen waffled. "I just want some protein."
"Jubilee does kebabs now," Ianto said, and all three of them looked at him.
"Since when?" Martha asked.
"Two weeks ag...o," Ianto trailed off and made an appropriately annoyed face. "That's getting annoying."
"It's fine," Jack said, a little too quickly. "Okay, whatever, get a pizza."
Gwen beamed at Ianto. "Peppers and sausage. Are you in?"
"Not that hungry, really," Ianto said. "Martha?"
"I'll split with Gwen."
"Kebab and chips," Jack called after him, as he went into the office to sign out petty cash. Gwen snickered. She always did that; it was the way Jack had of saying incredibly British things with his drawn-out American accent.
Ianto raised a hand to acknowledge he'd heard. Turning around, he found Gwen at his elbow.
"I'll come along," she said cheerily.
"Chaperone?" he asked.
"Martha frets," she whispered.
"She's not the only one," he whispered back, and dropped her a wink. She covered her mouth. "Come on then."
He called the order in as they walked. By the time they'd reached the little storefront stand, Gwen and Martha's pizza was just going into the oven. They leaned against the counter in one corner and made small talk with the cashier while Ianto ate Jack's chips out of their greasy paper sack.
"Boss letting you off the leash?" the boy asked, beaming at him.
"Sorry?" Ianto asked. Marcus, that was the boy's name. He filed it away. Might be important, you never knew.
"Good look for you," Marcus said, nodding at his clothing. "Little less accountant, little more student-glam."
"Glam," Gwen repeated, grinning.
"Oh yes, that's me, glam all over," Ianto replied.
"We had bets on, when we didn't see you for two weeks," Marcus continued. "Anna said you'd had a nervous breakdown, Billy said you lot had changed shops."
"Change from Jubilee? Never," Gwen said.
"So, well then?" Marcus gestured for them to explain their lack of attentiveness to his pizza parlour.
"Business trip," Ianto replied.
"Aww, can't you invent something a bit more interesting?"
"Temporary amnesia?"
"S'all right..."
"What'd you bet on?" Ianto asked, resigned.
"Death in the family."
"Did you hear my aunt died?" Ianto asked Gwen.
"Never! That must have been difficult," she laughed.
"Well, there were the funeral arrangements and all."
"Much better," Marcus gave him an approving nod. Ianto finished Jack's chips and looked down in dismay. Another bag was pushed across the counter.
"Guess we forgot to give you chips with that kebab order," Marcus beamed at him. "And...order up!" he added, as a pizza box was passed over the counter as well.
"Ta, Marcus," Ianto said over Gwen's shoulder as they left.
"Nice to know someone'd miss us if we disappeared," he continued, as they made their way back to the Hub.
"We're probably keeping them in business."
"Not such a bad thing. Don't they ever ask why a tourist centre needs take-away so often?"
Gwen glanced out over the bay. "We've had to retcon them once or twice."
"Ah." He considered this. "Lisa."
"Yes."
"Horrible way to die, on account of a pizza delivery."
"It's in the past," Gwen said firmly.
"Not their past. Not even mine anymore."
"Ianto -- "
"It's all right, Gwen. Doesn't matter. Probably just as well. All that misery...gone in an eyeblink," he mused. All those memories locked away behind a barrier, only a crack here and there to show they'd ever even existed.
Isn't it better that way? The bad stuff tidied back?
He barely hesitated when the thought passed through his head, didn't miss a step, and Gwen was chattering away about how hard it must be, how glad she was Jack was there to help, and he'd really have to tell her what he thought of it all sometime, and he still owed her that dinner with her and Rhys, blah blah blah...
When they reached the Hub, Jack ordered them up to the conference room for a real, proper lunch, which kept Ianto from his research for another half an hour. He did go down to the fridge for drinks, and if he nipped into the medical bay to take a small glass jar out of Martha's stores, nobody missed him for that five minutes.
To show willing he filched a slice of pizza from the girls and plucked the peppers off, leaving them for Jack who ate them with his kebab, half-chewing his food as he related some story about late-night dining options on a planet whose entire global economy was based on cheap beer.
"So, then he told me what part of the Hrgonk I was eating," Jack finished. Martha giggled.
"I think it's all lies," Gwen proclaimed. "I think Hrgonks don't even have external genitalia."
"Where are you getting your information?" Jack demanded. "Because if Martha told you that, she must not have been there during mating season."
"Such a liar!" Martha said. "Don't believe him, you lot."
"Dunno," Ianto said, grinning at Jack. "I'm sure he only lies about the really important stuff."
Jack was happy, in his element, working with his team around him. All of them were, really, and none of them honestly stopped to think about what he'd said.
At the end of lunch, Jack caught him by the wrist as he was leaving, carrying the debris from the meal in his other hand.
"Research?" he asked.
"Two more hours?"
"Whatever you're working on oughta be outstanding."
Ianto flashed him a grin. "I am never less than outstanding."
"Confidence. I like that in an employee."
Ianto gently disengaged his hand and dropped the trash in the bin before going back to the computer.
Faster now, not edging quite so much, as if he'd just had the idea -- there it was, in Owen's notes, and he could justify this if he could only keep them all occupied a little longer. Lunch had been late, and Gwen would probably go home for dinner before they all sat vigil, waiting for another Egg.
There would be time.
Ianto smiled a small, vicious smile and began preparing his presentation for Jack.
***
"Aerosolised Retcon," Ianto said, calling up a display on the computer screen in the conference room.
Jack and Gwen both looked deeply unsettled by the phrase, but Martha leaned forward interestedly.
"How do you know that can even be done?" Jack asked warily. "Nobody else has the chemical recipe for Retcon. It's not even written down."
"Well, not by you," Ianto replied. "Owen had been doing research, looks like."
Jack's unease deepened.
"What kind of research?"
"Spectrographic analysis, I think," Ianto replied, flicking to the first image -- some charts he'd found in a PDF in the cold-storage of Owen's digital files. "He determined that the Retcon pill consists of an agent and a catalyst, separated and bound in sedative. Is that wrong?"
Jack pressed his lips together.
"The whole idea does sort of depend on it, Jack," Ianto added.
"It's not wrong."
"He wasn't able to identify the agent or the catalyst, but one assumes you know what they are. If these creatures are sending objects through the Rift they must have some physical form. If they feed on memory, exist on it, Retcon may act as a deterrent at the least. Owen theorised it blocked certain types of chemicals in the brain. Presumably chemicals they consume or manipulate to produce energy. Block all contact with those chemicals, they may very well starve."
"Theory," Jack pronounced again.
"Well, we haven't got any fact, have we?" Ianto retorted. "I'm not going to bother with whether Gwen's right or not -- the point is we need a weapon against them if they come here. You know what they did to me. You know better than I do."
Jack tipped his chair back, rubbing a thumb across his lips thoughtfully.
"If we release the catalyst into the air and then the agent, it should give us time to get far back enough that we won't inhale it," Ianto continued. "We have gas masks and hazmat suits, I checked inventory."
"Assuming we get to them before they get to someone else," Jack said.
"Even then, we can mass-retcon anyone involved. Better than death. Theirs or someone else's. Gwen's confident they'll come here."
"Fallback measures?" Jack asked.
"Guns. Lockdown. Release retcon into the water supply? Whatever we'd use if we don't use this anyway," Ianto shrugged. "I'm not suggesting a plan, just another weapon in the arsenal."
"Retcon in the water," Gwen murmured, sounding horrified.
"Better than serial killers loose in Cardiff."
Jack put his palms flat on the table. "Okay. Assuming Gwen is right, and assuming Ianto's assumptions based on Gwen's assumptions are right, we'll put it in motion. Everyone's on alert tonight for the Egg. We sleep now, we meet back here at two; be on call in case it comes down in Japan or something this time."
"And the Retcon?" Ianto insisted. Jack rubbed his forehead.
"I have a distribution system that'll work," he said resignedly.
***
"Water pistols," Ianto observed. "We're going to save the world using water pistols."
"Probably not the first time," Jack said, admiring the stash of hand-pump waterguns in the box in the armoury. They looked like they'd once been children's toys -- each was sleek, with a long barrel and a small tank mounted on it, a pump beneath to pressurise the tank with. Someone with either a sense of humour or far too much time on their hands had painted them black, fitted them with rubber grips, and stencilled the Torchwood logo on the tanks.
Jack held up a jar full of pale amber liquid, almost opaque in the dim light of the armoury. "The agent in its basic form is a liquid," he said, and set it down next to the box. "You never know when you need to distribute a lot of it quickly. The agent's concentrated into powder for the pills."
"Like methamphetamine."
"I'd admire the way you say that if it didn't disturb me that you know that." Jack picked up a long, narrow pipe-cleaner and checked to make sure the watergun he was holding didn't have any clogs in the nozzle. Ianto eased his way up behind him, until he was sure Jack could feel his body heat, but Jack was still talking. "Spraying them with the agent is a good way to get it out there without getting too close. Say we powder-bomb them with catalyst and then spray -- and then probably run like hell. Especially if it doesn't work."
"It'll work," Ianto said confidently. He slid his hand down Jack's sleeve, taking the pistol out of his hand.
"I don't like shaky reasoning," Jack said, as Ianto wrapped his other arm around his waist and stroked him gently. Jack gave an almost nervous laugh. "I do like that."
"Mm," Ianto kissed his neck. "Gwen went home. Martha too. You should take your own advice, Jack, and take a break from all this."
"What do you suggest?" Jack asked, his voice deep and inviting. Ianto put the pistol aside and began working Jack's belt buckle.
"Well, we do have the Hub to ourselves," he said, reasonably. "I'm sure there must be something we can come up with."
Jack's laughter was still shaky, but less nervous now. "Have I ever told you about naked hide-and-seek?" he asked.
"Interesting proposition," Ianto said, biting off the urge to inform him that he cheated -- he always cheated.
"Not exactly restful."
"Maybe another time, then." Ianto's right hand had worked its way into Jack's trousers. Jack moaned. Ianto glanced at the jar of Retcon agent on the shelf next to the box, then let his eyes casually slide away. He already knew where the catalyst was kept. And the code to get into the chemistry locker, of course.
Jack pulled away briefly, just long enough to turn around before moving into Ianto and walking him backwards until he bumped into a wide, metal storage box.
"How do you feel about sex on top of a shipment of plastic explosives?" Jack asked, although Ianto wasn't sure he had much choice in the matter.
"Would it be all that different from usual?" Ianto asked, hitching his hips up onto the crate, spreading his thighs around Jack's. It was high enough that their eyes were still level -- such a strange experience, so odd to be with a man after (Toshiko) women, so different to be this to Jack Harkness. "Still explosi -- oh," he broke off as Jack curled an arm under his shoulders and pulled them together. He tilted his head and nipped Jack's lower lip, while Jack's other hand deftly got his trousers open.
"Hitch up a little," Jack ordered breathlessly, tugging at his pants. Ianto nipped the ridge of his ear.
"Unless you carry lubricant on you at all times..."
"Not that prepared," Jack admitted, sliding his hands up and pushing Ianto's shirt over his head. "Still, plenty of fun to be had..."
"Mmm." Ianto curled both hands in Jack's hair as he kissed his chest. He laughed when Jack moved lower. "You don't have to."
"Tell you a secret," Jack said against his stomach. "I like to."
"Oh yes?"
"Oh, yes." Jack dropped to his knees gracefully, the way he did everything, as if he never moved until it was the proper time. His breath was warm on Ianto's skin. "Oh yes, Ianto."
Ianto laughed again when Jack spread his fingers across his stomach, then cut it with a sharp moan as Jack's mouth closed around him. God, Jack was good at this; good with teeth and tongue, good at reading his reactions so that when he bucked his hips Jack pulled back too. Never quite giving him everything. Oh god, it was good, and there was an implicit promise in it, that at some point he would and then Ianto could stop trembling, teetering on the edge of falling, waiting for that last brush of Jack's lips --
Then Jack sat back, resting on his heels, and looked up at him wickedly.
"Jack," Ianto groaned, reaching for him.
"Ah ah," Jack said. "I'm not that easy."
"Jack!"
"Want it?" Jack asked, rising slowly, bending to whisper in his ear.
"Yes -- "
"Then catch me," and he bolted away -- running lithely, easily. Ianto stared after him, breathless.
Jack and his games.
He did up his trousers, wincing, and found his shirt. No reason not to draw out the suspense a little. Once he was decently dressed, he looked around speculatively. Plenty of guns in here.
He took a sidearm off the rack, checked to be sure it was loaded, and tucked it in the front of his jeans, a little to one side (still hard, and this was thrilling, wasn't it?).
"You're going to traumatise Myfanwy," he called into the echoing Hub, passing over the fountain's bridge and looking for convenient hiding-places. He heard Jack laugh somewhere, but the echo was hard to place.
He whistled, which got another laugh from Jack. And footsteps, more identifiable. Jack was behind the Rift Manipulator, or possibly the wall of his office. He peered around the Manipulator, found nothing, and leaned in the office doorway.
Jack shot out in front of him and caught him around the waist, kissing him as he pulled him close.
Then he paused.
"Ianto Jones," Jack said in a low voice. "Not to be cliche -- "
"It's a gun," he replied, and shot him in the stomach.
He got two more rounds off, both to the heart, before Jack had time to react. Just as well. Minimised the mess.
"You'll get over it," he told the body on the floor as blood ran down the cement. He knelt and felt in Jack's pocket -- handkerchief, so predictable -- and soaked it in chloroform from the bottle he'd stolen out of Martha's stores earlier. He shoved it into Jack's slack-open mouth, bound it there with Jack's belt, and then rummaged in his desk for his handcuffs. By the time the wounds had healed, Jack was trussed wrist and ankle. Not that he had much chance to notice, not with the chloroform there as soon as he took that first gasping breath. It might poison him once or twice before it simply knocked him out but, either way, that was Jack sorted.
He turned and walked back to the armoury, collected the Retcon agent and two of the ridiculous water-pistols, and made his way to the chemistry lab.
He had time, now, at least two hours before the others would return. He had all the access codes he required, locked up in Ianto Jones's beautiful crystal-sharp memory. He had a running start, and the not inconsiderable resources of Torchwood at his disposal. And he had the beautiful, beautiful Retcon.
He pulled on a pair of heavy gloves, set the jar in a fume hood, unscrewed the empty canisters on the pistols, and set to work.
Once he'd filled the water-guns and armed powder-bombs with the catalyst (thank you, Jones) he tucked the bombs in the pockets of his jeans. He returned to the armoury for holsters and set those and his black denim jacket aside. No need to alarm Gwen and Martha unnecessarily.
He logged onto the server -- in the background Jack twitched, moaned, fell silent again -- and began systematically clearing out Torchwood's many and varied bank accounts, dumping all the money into one and changing the password and account number (Toshiko had programs for everything, so good at labour-saving devices).
In the corner, a small machine spat out a new cash card.
He'd have to lie low for a while, get his strength back. They'd come for him tonight but if he slaughtered them where they stood the second wave would take longer. He'd have time to get away. London, maybe. Jones knew London intimately, and if he got into a real jam Jones's know-how would get him into half a dozen UNIT bases. Not to mention 10 Downing Street.
There was a thought. Creep into the stronghold of power once he had his full strength back, make pals with the Prime Minister. Come back to Torchwood (in a different form, of course) and swipe anything that could get him off this dirtball. Their Rift Manipulator could use some work.
Later. Right now he had preparations to make. Keys to the SUV -- tracker deactivated, GPS shot out neatly. Some of Jack's shirts and trousers, thrown into a bag and tossed in the back. Leftover food to keep him going until the morning, when he could stop somewhere north of London and withdraw all the money on the account, then double-back. Let them think he was making for Torchwood Two, that little rat's nest in Glasgow.
It was hard work, moving Jones's body around like this, even with all the practice he'd had before Jones had caught on and tried to kill him a second time. He stopped after a while, sat in Jack's office chair and ate a chocolate bar from his bottom drawer.
Touching, really, the big bold Captain with a secret sweet tooth. Jack Harkness, sexual connoisseur, liked ordinary milk chocolate. Although, after all, chocolate melted at human body temperature. He could understand the appeal.
It'd been close the first time they tried to kill him, but the surviving part of him had simply gone to ground in Jones; the second time it was far too close for anything approaching comfort. The Retcon poisoning him, strangling him, driving him deep into the hindbrain, into the most basic centres of instinct and sensation. He'd nearly gone mad there, but he'd survived. Just one little fragment, a shard in Jones's memory. If it weren't for the fear of capture he'd be there still, but terror was a great motivator. And after all, Ianto Jones had so much memory to survive on.
When this was over and he was safely away he'd find those memories and grow strong again, feed new ones into Jones's head until he went mad -- maybe send him out killing again, because false memories were fun but real memories were so much more flavourful. Once he had no more use for it they could do what they liked with Jones's body. He would have form and shape again. On a planet like this with aliens like humanity to feed on, he'd do quite well.
He forced himself up again, noticing the time, and left Jack's office. He shut the door behind him, effectively hiding Jack from view, and hooked a comm over his ear, settling into the tech desk to watch the CCTV of the Plass. With any luck, Martha would be early and Gwen would be late. That was generally how things worked.
He should have taken up with Jones from the start, but Toshiko was so delicious and anyway he hadn't known about the diary or Jones's beautiful, beautiful memory. Besides, the bipolar genders on this world were so absolute, and sex with men just seemed unnecessarily untidy.
There she was. Martha Jones. Letting herself into the tourist office, then the lift down to the Hub. Martha was expendable, for the most part. She didn't have anything he needed.
He got up, muscles complaining slightly, and ducked behind the thermal coil to one side of the stairs that led down to the medical bay.
And he waited.
***
Chapter Seven - The Prank Chapter
Chapter Seven - The Real Chapter
Pairings: Canon. Set post-S2.
Summary: "Water pistols," Ianto observed. "We're going to save the world using water pistols."
Notes: Thanks to
la_rainette, adina_atl, and spiderine for advice on fighting, firearms, italics, titles, eggs, and grammar. All are important! Chapter Six
There were dozens of new readings to be sifted through, that much was evident. None of the other Eggs had come down anywhere near the kind of sensitive equipment they kept in the Hub. There were machines to measure everything from its density on arrival to the width and breadth of the rift it had passed through, and aside from that there were other readings from past events to compare it to. By the time Ianto and Martha returned, Jack and Gwen had covered a board with bits of paper and diagrams, some hand-drawn.
"It's a theory," Jack was saying as they entered. "It's good, but it's still a theory."
"But it makes sense!" Gwen insisted, then fell silent when she saw them waiting for the cage doors to open. Jack turned with a ready smile.
"No suit?" he asked. Ianto looked down at the oxford shirt and jeans.
"No, thanks," he replied, and gestured Martha through the doors first.
"Still a gentleman though," she said, walking up to the board. "So, what've we got?"
Jack looked amused. "Here it is. Eggs, scrambled."
"You're awful."
"Look at this," Gwen said, moving past Jack to the left side of the board. "Here's a normal Rift spike, right?"
"Normal," Martha repeated.
"Well, natural. Occurring on its own. Here's the spike, random activity patterns, and then an afterspike," Gwen continued, fingers tracing what looked to Ianto like an arbitrary series of lines. "We've dozens of these, hundreds if you go back far enough. Here," she added, pointing to another group of lines on a separate sheet of paper, "is what we took off the last two intentional spikes. When we -- "
She glanced at Jack, who gestured for her to continue.
"When we opened the Rift last year, using the Manipulator, and again when John Hart opened it a few months ago. They're not controlled, but they're more regular. And if we fit the last time the Manipulator opened the Rift up against the readings the computers grabbed last night when the Egg came through..."
She pulled one of the charts off the board and held it up over a third chart, aiming a lamp at both of them. The lines weren't the same length, but they were in all the same places.
"It's definitely intentional," she finished.
"Hadn't we already decided that?" Ianto asked, confused.
"It's just proof. Groundwork, right? So, now, look at where the Eggs came down. One in Cardiff, very near the Rift, underground. Then one in London, bit further off, aboveground. Then one still aboveground in America, but then after that we're back to Cardiff, over the Bay -- really close by," Gwen's words were picking up as she established each location. "Like they were aiming for us and got close, then a bit further off, then further off still, then they realised what they were doing -- "
"And came back to Cardiff. Went the other way," Martha finished. "Happens to me driving round London sometimes. You get lost, you finally see you're going the wrong way, you get your bearings and turn around."
"And then the next one's actually in the Hub," Gwen finished. "So could be they're aiming for us."
"Or it's a random pattern that keeps hitting us because we're on the Rift," Jack added. "We don't know yet."
"Not enough data -- just like whoever's sending them," Gwen replied.
"Seems pretty solid to me," Martha said. "Ianto?"
"I...think I don't understand enough about these to know," Ianto found himself saying, with an ingratiating grin for Gwen. In the back of his mind some sort of alarm was going off, but it was distant and unimportant at the moment. "Got one or two ideas, though," he added.
"Oh?" Gwen tilted her head.
"Let me..." he glanced at the tech desk. "Research. Let me polish them a bit. Am I still cleared on everything in the database?"
"Should be."
"Probably best for him anyway," Martha smiled at him. "Sit, work, rest a bit. I'm going to have a look at some of this kit -- "
"Readings," Gwen said, holding up another sheaf of paper. "Jack?"
Jack looked oddly amused. "Don't let theory get in the way of evidence. I'll help Martha."
Ianto settled into the chair at the tech desk without difficulty, Martha and Jack at the workbench on the other side. Gwen gave him an odd look -- oh, of course, he was sitting in Toshiko's chair.
Lovely, vulnerable Toshiko --
He turned his mind back to the computer. Jack could see everything he looked at, if he wanted, but Jack was going over some odd boxy wire contraption, explaining the triggering mechanism to Martha. Still...
He logged into the database and began carefully researching around the subject he wanted, calling up specs on the toys Martha and Jack were working on, revisiting some of the profiles on the various aliens he'd found. Sure enough, after about an hour, Jack went back into his office and logged on briefly. Ianto continued to page through the report he was on, watching Jack out of the corner of his eye. He could simply be looking for some supporting research on whatever it was that he and Martha were working on -- but he could be checking Ianto's search history, too.
Jack frowned and glanced at him. Ianto kept his head still, bowed over one of the monitors. Finally Jack stopped to speak to Gwen, a hand on her shoulder, and then returned to Martha.
Ianto began edging towards what he was looking for -- really, the database was easy if he just let his hands move, let old half-buried memories come to the fore. Cross-reference this item with notes in Owen's medical library, call up a few of Owen's other files -- password protected but he knew all the passwords...
"Ianto," Jack said, and Ianto carefully didn't look up from the monitor.
"Mh?" he asked, calling up a new file to cover the old window instead of closing it down.
"Lunch?"
Ianto did look up then; Jack folded his hands in a plea.
"Right...any preferences?" he asked, closing out the windows one by one. He'd got a start, anyway.
While the others debated what to eat, he left the desk and made coffee. By the time he was passing round mugs, they'd narrowed it to "that curry place on Letton, you know the one" and Jubilee pizza.
"Listen, seriously, I don't care," Jack said, as Gwen waffled. "I just want some protein."
"Jubilee does kebabs now," Ianto said, and all three of them looked at him.
"Since when?" Martha asked.
"Two weeks ag...o," Ianto trailed off and made an appropriately annoyed face. "That's getting annoying."
"It's fine," Jack said, a little too quickly. "Okay, whatever, get a pizza."
Gwen beamed at Ianto. "Peppers and sausage. Are you in?"
"Not that hungry, really," Ianto said. "Martha?"
"I'll split with Gwen."
"Kebab and chips," Jack called after him, as he went into the office to sign out petty cash. Gwen snickered. She always did that; it was the way Jack had of saying incredibly British things with his drawn-out American accent.
Ianto raised a hand to acknowledge he'd heard. Turning around, he found Gwen at his elbow.
"I'll come along," she said cheerily.
"Chaperone?" he asked.
"Martha frets," she whispered.
"She's not the only one," he whispered back, and dropped her a wink. She covered her mouth. "Come on then."
He called the order in as they walked. By the time they'd reached the little storefront stand, Gwen and Martha's pizza was just going into the oven. They leaned against the counter in one corner and made small talk with the cashier while Ianto ate Jack's chips out of their greasy paper sack.
"Boss letting you off the leash?" the boy asked, beaming at him.
"Sorry?" Ianto asked. Marcus, that was the boy's name. He filed it away. Might be important, you never knew.
"Good look for you," Marcus said, nodding at his clothing. "Little less accountant, little more student-glam."
"Glam," Gwen repeated, grinning.
"Oh yes, that's me, glam all over," Ianto replied.
"We had bets on, when we didn't see you for two weeks," Marcus continued. "Anna said you'd had a nervous breakdown, Billy said you lot had changed shops."
"Change from Jubilee? Never," Gwen said.
"So, well then?" Marcus gestured for them to explain their lack of attentiveness to his pizza parlour.
"Business trip," Ianto replied.
"Aww, can't you invent something a bit more interesting?"
"Temporary amnesia?"
"S'all right..."
"What'd you bet on?" Ianto asked, resigned.
"Death in the family."
"Did you hear my aunt died?" Ianto asked Gwen.
"Never! That must have been difficult," she laughed.
"Well, there were the funeral arrangements and all."
"Much better," Marcus gave him an approving nod. Ianto finished Jack's chips and looked down in dismay. Another bag was pushed across the counter.
"Guess we forgot to give you chips with that kebab order," Marcus beamed at him. "And...order up!" he added, as a pizza box was passed over the counter as well.
"Ta, Marcus," Ianto said over Gwen's shoulder as they left.
"Nice to know someone'd miss us if we disappeared," he continued, as they made their way back to the Hub.
"We're probably keeping them in business."
"Not such a bad thing. Don't they ever ask why a tourist centre needs take-away so often?"
Gwen glanced out over the bay. "We've had to retcon them once or twice."
"Ah." He considered this. "Lisa."
"Yes."
"Horrible way to die, on account of a pizza delivery."
"It's in the past," Gwen said firmly.
"Not their past. Not even mine anymore."
"Ianto -- "
"It's all right, Gwen. Doesn't matter. Probably just as well. All that misery...gone in an eyeblink," he mused. All those memories locked away behind a barrier, only a crack here and there to show they'd ever even existed.
Isn't it better that way? The bad stuff tidied back?
He barely hesitated when the thought passed through his head, didn't miss a step, and Gwen was chattering away about how hard it must be, how glad she was Jack was there to help, and he'd really have to tell her what he thought of it all sometime, and he still owed her that dinner with her and Rhys, blah blah blah...
When they reached the Hub, Jack ordered them up to the conference room for a real, proper lunch, which kept Ianto from his research for another half an hour. He did go down to the fridge for drinks, and if he nipped into the medical bay to take a small glass jar out of Martha's stores, nobody missed him for that five minutes.
To show willing he filched a slice of pizza from the girls and plucked the peppers off, leaving them for Jack who ate them with his kebab, half-chewing his food as he related some story about late-night dining options on a planet whose entire global economy was based on cheap beer.
"So, then he told me what part of the Hrgonk I was eating," Jack finished. Martha giggled.
"I think it's all lies," Gwen proclaimed. "I think Hrgonks don't even have external genitalia."
"Where are you getting your information?" Jack demanded. "Because if Martha told you that, she must not have been there during mating season."
"Such a liar!" Martha said. "Don't believe him, you lot."
"Dunno," Ianto said, grinning at Jack. "I'm sure he only lies about the really important stuff."
Jack was happy, in his element, working with his team around him. All of them were, really, and none of them honestly stopped to think about what he'd said.
At the end of lunch, Jack caught him by the wrist as he was leaving, carrying the debris from the meal in his other hand.
"Research?" he asked.
"Two more hours?"
"Whatever you're working on oughta be outstanding."
Ianto flashed him a grin. "I am never less than outstanding."
"Confidence. I like that in an employee."
Ianto gently disengaged his hand and dropped the trash in the bin before going back to the computer.
Faster now, not edging quite so much, as if he'd just had the idea -- there it was, in Owen's notes, and he could justify this if he could only keep them all occupied a little longer. Lunch had been late, and Gwen would probably go home for dinner before they all sat vigil, waiting for another Egg.
There would be time.
Ianto smiled a small, vicious smile and began preparing his presentation for Jack.
***
"Aerosolised Retcon," Ianto said, calling up a display on the computer screen in the conference room.
Jack and Gwen both looked deeply unsettled by the phrase, but Martha leaned forward interestedly.
"How do you know that can even be done?" Jack asked warily. "Nobody else has the chemical recipe for Retcon. It's not even written down."
"Well, not by you," Ianto replied. "Owen had been doing research, looks like."
Jack's unease deepened.
"What kind of research?"
"Spectrographic analysis, I think," Ianto replied, flicking to the first image -- some charts he'd found in a PDF in the cold-storage of Owen's digital files. "He determined that the Retcon pill consists of an agent and a catalyst, separated and bound in sedative. Is that wrong?"
Jack pressed his lips together.
"The whole idea does sort of depend on it, Jack," Ianto added.
"It's not wrong."
"He wasn't able to identify the agent or the catalyst, but one assumes you know what they are. If these creatures are sending objects through the Rift they must have some physical form. If they feed on memory, exist on it, Retcon may act as a deterrent at the least. Owen theorised it blocked certain types of chemicals in the brain. Presumably chemicals they consume or manipulate to produce energy. Block all contact with those chemicals, they may very well starve."
"Theory," Jack pronounced again.
"Well, we haven't got any fact, have we?" Ianto retorted. "I'm not going to bother with whether Gwen's right or not -- the point is we need a weapon against them if they come here. You know what they did to me. You know better than I do."
Jack tipped his chair back, rubbing a thumb across his lips thoughtfully.
"If we release the catalyst into the air and then the agent, it should give us time to get far back enough that we won't inhale it," Ianto continued. "We have gas masks and hazmat suits, I checked inventory."
"Assuming we get to them before they get to someone else," Jack said.
"Even then, we can mass-retcon anyone involved. Better than death. Theirs or someone else's. Gwen's confident they'll come here."
"Fallback measures?" Jack asked.
"Guns. Lockdown. Release retcon into the water supply? Whatever we'd use if we don't use this anyway," Ianto shrugged. "I'm not suggesting a plan, just another weapon in the arsenal."
"Retcon in the water," Gwen murmured, sounding horrified.
"Better than serial killers loose in Cardiff."
Jack put his palms flat on the table. "Okay. Assuming Gwen is right, and assuming Ianto's assumptions based on Gwen's assumptions are right, we'll put it in motion. Everyone's on alert tonight for the Egg. We sleep now, we meet back here at two; be on call in case it comes down in Japan or something this time."
"And the Retcon?" Ianto insisted. Jack rubbed his forehead.
"I have a distribution system that'll work," he said resignedly.
***
"Water pistols," Ianto observed. "We're going to save the world using water pistols."
"Probably not the first time," Jack said, admiring the stash of hand-pump waterguns in the box in the armoury. They looked like they'd once been children's toys -- each was sleek, with a long barrel and a small tank mounted on it, a pump beneath to pressurise the tank with. Someone with either a sense of humour or far too much time on their hands had painted them black, fitted them with rubber grips, and stencilled the Torchwood logo on the tanks.
Jack held up a jar full of pale amber liquid, almost opaque in the dim light of the armoury. "The agent in its basic form is a liquid," he said, and set it down next to the box. "You never know when you need to distribute a lot of it quickly. The agent's concentrated into powder for the pills."
"Like methamphetamine."
"I'd admire the way you say that if it didn't disturb me that you know that." Jack picked up a long, narrow pipe-cleaner and checked to make sure the watergun he was holding didn't have any clogs in the nozzle. Ianto eased his way up behind him, until he was sure Jack could feel his body heat, but Jack was still talking. "Spraying them with the agent is a good way to get it out there without getting too close. Say we powder-bomb them with catalyst and then spray -- and then probably run like hell. Especially if it doesn't work."
"It'll work," Ianto said confidently. He slid his hand down Jack's sleeve, taking the pistol out of his hand.
"I don't like shaky reasoning," Jack said, as Ianto wrapped his other arm around his waist and stroked him gently. Jack gave an almost nervous laugh. "I do like that."
"Mm," Ianto kissed his neck. "Gwen went home. Martha too. You should take your own advice, Jack, and take a break from all this."
"What do you suggest?" Jack asked, his voice deep and inviting. Ianto put the pistol aside and began working Jack's belt buckle.
"Well, we do have the Hub to ourselves," he said, reasonably. "I'm sure there must be something we can come up with."
Jack's laughter was still shaky, but less nervous now. "Have I ever told you about naked hide-and-seek?" he asked.
"Interesting proposition," Ianto said, biting off the urge to inform him that he cheated -- he always cheated.
"Not exactly restful."
"Maybe another time, then." Ianto's right hand had worked its way into Jack's trousers. Jack moaned. Ianto glanced at the jar of Retcon agent on the shelf next to the box, then let his eyes casually slide away. He already knew where the catalyst was kept. And the code to get into the chemistry locker, of course.
Jack pulled away briefly, just long enough to turn around before moving into Ianto and walking him backwards until he bumped into a wide, metal storage box.
"How do you feel about sex on top of a shipment of plastic explosives?" Jack asked, although Ianto wasn't sure he had much choice in the matter.
"Would it be all that different from usual?" Ianto asked, hitching his hips up onto the crate, spreading his thighs around Jack's. It was high enough that their eyes were still level -- such a strange experience, so odd to be with a man after (Toshiko) women, so different to be this to Jack Harkness. "Still explosi -- oh," he broke off as Jack curled an arm under his shoulders and pulled them together. He tilted his head and nipped Jack's lower lip, while Jack's other hand deftly got his trousers open.
"Hitch up a little," Jack ordered breathlessly, tugging at his pants. Ianto nipped the ridge of his ear.
"Unless you carry lubricant on you at all times..."
"Not that prepared," Jack admitted, sliding his hands up and pushing Ianto's shirt over his head. "Still, plenty of fun to be had..."
"Mmm." Ianto curled both hands in Jack's hair as he kissed his chest. He laughed when Jack moved lower. "You don't have to."
"Tell you a secret," Jack said against his stomach. "I like to."
"Oh yes?"
"Oh, yes." Jack dropped to his knees gracefully, the way he did everything, as if he never moved until it was the proper time. His breath was warm on Ianto's skin. "Oh yes, Ianto."
Ianto laughed again when Jack spread his fingers across his stomach, then cut it with a sharp moan as Jack's mouth closed around him. God, Jack was good at this; good with teeth and tongue, good at reading his reactions so that when he bucked his hips Jack pulled back too. Never quite giving him everything. Oh god, it was good, and there was an implicit promise in it, that at some point he would and then Ianto could stop trembling, teetering on the edge of falling, waiting for that last brush of Jack's lips --
Then Jack sat back, resting on his heels, and looked up at him wickedly.
"Jack," Ianto groaned, reaching for him.
"Ah ah," Jack said. "I'm not that easy."
"Jack!"
"Want it?" Jack asked, rising slowly, bending to whisper in his ear.
"Yes -- "
"Then catch me," and he bolted away -- running lithely, easily. Ianto stared after him, breathless.
Jack and his games.
He did up his trousers, wincing, and found his shirt. No reason not to draw out the suspense a little. Once he was decently dressed, he looked around speculatively. Plenty of guns in here.
He took a sidearm off the rack, checked to be sure it was loaded, and tucked it in the front of his jeans, a little to one side (still hard, and this was thrilling, wasn't it?).
"You're going to traumatise Myfanwy," he called into the echoing Hub, passing over the fountain's bridge and looking for convenient hiding-places. He heard Jack laugh somewhere, but the echo was hard to place.
He whistled, which got another laugh from Jack. And footsteps, more identifiable. Jack was behind the Rift Manipulator, or possibly the wall of his office. He peered around the Manipulator, found nothing, and leaned in the office doorway.
Jack shot out in front of him and caught him around the waist, kissing him as he pulled him close.
Then he paused.
"Ianto Jones," Jack said in a low voice. "Not to be cliche -- "
"It's a gun," he replied, and shot him in the stomach.
He got two more rounds off, both to the heart, before Jack had time to react. Just as well. Minimised the mess.
"You'll get over it," he told the body on the floor as blood ran down the cement. He knelt and felt in Jack's pocket -- handkerchief, so predictable -- and soaked it in chloroform from the bottle he'd stolen out of Martha's stores earlier. He shoved it into Jack's slack-open mouth, bound it there with Jack's belt, and then rummaged in his desk for his handcuffs. By the time the wounds had healed, Jack was trussed wrist and ankle. Not that he had much chance to notice, not with the chloroform there as soon as he took that first gasping breath. It might poison him once or twice before it simply knocked him out but, either way, that was Jack sorted.
He turned and walked back to the armoury, collected the Retcon agent and two of the ridiculous water-pistols, and made his way to the chemistry lab.
He had time, now, at least two hours before the others would return. He had all the access codes he required, locked up in Ianto Jones's beautiful crystal-sharp memory. He had a running start, and the not inconsiderable resources of Torchwood at his disposal. And he had the beautiful, beautiful Retcon.
He pulled on a pair of heavy gloves, set the jar in a fume hood, unscrewed the empty canisters on the pistols, and set to work.
Once he'd filled the water-guns and armed powder-bombs with the catalyst (thank you, Jones) he tucked the bombs in the pockets of his jeans. He returned to the armoury for holsters and set those and his black denim jacket aside. No need to alarm Gwen and Martha unnecessarily.
He logged onto the server -- in the background Jack twitched, moaned, fell silent again -- and began systematically clearing out Torchwood's many and varied bank accounts, dumping all the money into one and changing the password and account number (Toshiko had programs for everything, so good at labour-saving devices).
In the corner, a small machine spat out a new cash card.
He'd have to lie low for a while, get his strength back. They'd come for him tonight but if he slaughtered them where they stood the second wave would take longer. He'd have time to get away. London, maybe. Jones knew London intimately, and if he got into a real jam Jones's know-how would get him into half a dozen UNIT bases. Not to mention 10 Downing Street.
There was a thought. Creep into the stronghold of power once he had his full strength back, make pals with the Prime Minister. Come back to Torchwood (in a different form, of course) and swipe anything that could get him off this dirtball. Their Rift Manipulator could use some work.
Later. Right now he had preparations to make. Keys to the SUV -- tracker deactivated, GPS shot out neatly. Some of Jack's shirts and trousers, thrown into a bag and tossed in the back. Leftover food to keep him going until the morning, when he could stop somewhere north of London and withdraw all the money on the account, then double-back. Let them think he was making for Torchwood Two, that little rat's nest in Glasgow.
It was hard work, moving Jones's body around like this, even with all the practice he'd had before Jones had caught on and tried to kill him a second time. He stopped after a while, sat in Jack's office chair and ate a chocolate bar from his bottom drawer.
Touching, really, the big bold Captain with a secret sweet tooth. Jack Harkness, sexual connoisseur, liked ordinary milk chocolate. Although, after all, chocolate melted at human body temperature. He could understand the appeal.
It'd been close the first time they tried to kill him, but the surviving part of him had simply gone to ground in Jones; the second time it was far too close for anything approaching comfort. The Retcon poisoning him, strangling him, driving him deep into the hindbrain, into the most basic centres of instinct and sensation. He'd nearly gone mad there, but he'd survived. Just one little fragment, a shard in Jones's memory. If it weren't for the fear of capture he'd be there still, but terror was a great motivator. And after all, Ianto Jones had so much memory to survive on.
When this was over and he was safely away he'd find those memories and grow strong again, feed new ones into Jones's head until he went mad -- maybe send him out killing again, because false memories were fun but real memories were so much more flavourful. Once he had no more use for it they could do what they liked with Jones's body. He would have form and shape again. On a planet like this with aliens like humanity to feed on, he'd do quite well.
He forced himself up again, noticing the time, and left Jack's office. He shut the door behind him, effectively hiding Jack from view, and hooked a comm over his ear, settling into the tech desk to watch the CCTV of the Plass. With any luck, Martha would be early and Gwen would be late. That was generally how things worked.
He should have taken up with Jones from the start, but Toshiko was so delicious and anyway he hadn't known about the diary or Jones's beautiful, beautiful memory. Besides, the bipolar genders on this world were so absolute, and sex with men just seemed unnecessarily untidy.
There she was. Martha Jones. Letting herself into the tourist office, then the lift down to the Hub. Martha was expendable, for the most part. She didn't have anything he needed.
He got up, muscles complaining slightly, and ducked behind the thermal coil to one side of the stairs that led down to the medical bay.
And he waited.
***
Chapter Seven - The Prank Chapter
Chapter Seven - The Real Chapter
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