Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2008-05-04 22:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | au, rated: adult, slash, torchwood |
Fic: Conspiracy Theorist 4/5 Torchwood
Title: Conspiracy Theorist
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood.
Characters: Ianto
Words: 5870
Prompt: 5 Professions Ianto Never Had
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Ianto/Jack - Ianto/Owen
Rating: General
Warnings: Language, Bastardized Britishisms,
Summary: The archivist of the Jones Files explores the extra terrestrial life of Cardiff.
Author's Note: Since this involves teenage Ianto, I decided to try my hand at some british words. If you are as half uncomfortable reading them as I was writing them, congratulations! It was an experiment, I promise never to do it again.
Theme Music: I Have Not Been To Oxford Town - David Bowie
______________________________________
10 August, 1997.
"Dear Diary. Today, I think I had my first encounter with an alien species." Hitting the pause button with his computer's mouse, Ianto dialed up the news report on the television. When he noticed it was merely a carryover from London, he hit the mute button. Turning back on the recording, he cleared his throat. "I am not exactly certain what it entailed as certain details of my memory have been wiped. What I am positive of, there are people, humans, who are involved with these aliens. While they may not be in league with them, they most certainly are in communication."
Frowning, he hit the pause button again. Spinning his chair around, he pulled open the second drawer in the third filing cabinet. He fingered the title cards of each file until he found the one he wanted. Pulling out the file, he spun back around, dropped it on the desk and opened it. Without looking, he used the mouse to turn the recording back on.
"According to file Zed, zero-zero-four, the species I have encountered are regularly spotted every twenty years. The fact I am alive is a good sign, this species have been known to..." He swallowed nervously. "These aliens find live prey a delicacy. I guess I must not taste good, else these humans who interfered are my saviors."
Ianto snapped his fingers as something came back to him. "Blue eyes! Beautiful, blue eyes. A dimpled chin. My savior had beautiful blue eyes and a dimpled chin." He gave a relieved laugh. "And I think, you're going to think I'm insane, but I think he was a yank."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
18 December, 1997.
"Dear Diary. There are aliens in the sewers of Splott. I don't care what that ugly woman in the Burberry jacket said, I am not hallucinating. They tried to force me in to drinking some form of concoction. From what I am to gather, that is what erases the memory of alien encounters, not the aliens themselves." Grinning, Ianto held up the bottle of now flat coke, sealed in an evidence bag and clearly marked. "The concoction is marked Alpha, four-eight-nine, Gamma, Gamma for future reference."
"Ianto, if you're through playing with your grand father's shite, you're father's demanding you to take the rubbish to the curb!"
Hitting the pause button, Ianto glared up the stairs. "Mrs. Bunson, I've told you not to bother me while I'm in the Archive!" Flipping her off, he hit the record button again. "Subject file has been entered, samples drawn and filed for future study. Signing off, as this might be the last file for two weeks due to an over busy, nosey old coot!"
"Ianto!"
"Coming, father!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
10 March, 1998.
"Dear Diary. I think I've survived an alien abduction." Fingering a sore spot through his high collared dress shirt, Ianto shivered. It wasn't a pleasant memory, his body was telling him. "I can not recall what happened. The facts are as follows. Two days ago, I went missing on my way home from piano lessons."
Shifting in his seat, Ianto winced as a cut across his lower abdomen twinged. "For thirty-seven hours, I was held by an unknown entity or entities. What I assume were medical experiments were performed on my person at this time. Photographical evidence and biological swabs have been collected and stored as samples Ceti, nine-nine-eight and Ceti, nine-nine-nine."
A wave of dizziness hit and he groaned. Ianto stopped the recording with the mouse as he bent over to throw up in the waste bin. Four times his back arched as he heaved in to the can. When he was certain nothing else would present, he leaned back in to his chair.
Twisting the chair, he reached out and turned back on the recording. His breath hitched as he tried to find a comfortable position. "X-rays of subject's torso revealed two false ribs have been removed through surgical means. I can only conclude they required a biological sample that would leave no lasting...effects." Sniffing, he placed a hand over his face.
"Conclusion is that at no time should flashing gold lights be investigated without back-up." Fingering his left ear, he traced the circular scar behind the lobe. "Subject has been tagged. A surgeon removed a metallic object of unknown origins which has been sealed within a forty centimeter thick lead box for safety. See subject files for further updates and information."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
28 March, 1998.
"Dear Diary. One Doctor Lee Ewing was arrested and charged with medical experimentation on subject Jones, Ianto. It is believed by local authorities Doctor Ewing has been using teenage boys for his experimentation for two decades. Archivist of Jones Files, however, believes the Doctor is merely a patsy as the investigators could find no evidence of missing body parts. End of recording."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
30 April, 1998.
"Dear Diary. Sweet sixteen, oh mother of mercy my bum hurts." Giggling, Ianto laid his head down on his forearm. "Through frequent alcoholic experimentation, I've finally had my first encounter with a definite terrestrial biological entity intent on genetic replication. He has blue eyes, I can't believe it." Laughing, he let his lower half slide backwards with the chair. "I probably won't remember it, but it was brilliant, bloody fantastic! He goes by Jack, but I highly doubt that's his real name. He's far too sophisticated, too American, yes. Mmhmm. American, definitely."
The chair slipped out from under him and he fell under the desk. As he landed, his hand hit the power strip, turning it off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1 May, 1998.
"Dear Diary. Last night's entry was not saved due to power outage. Had I not found my finger prints on the power button, I would be prone to belief of yet another abduction. To support this theory, my memory of the events of the previous evening are once more missing." Ianto stilled himself as a shiver ran down his spine. The scars under his arms were well hidden in the locker room, but he still knew they were there.
"Subject is bound to sudden and frequent fits of paranoia. Due to subject's inebriated state during the previous night, subject is under lock down until further notice. The Archivist has decided to take this time to update Jones Files with scans, printings, clippings, and samples previously not entered in to record due to subject's..." He trailed off with a frown. "Subject is traumatized. Solution: time."
Turning off the recording, he spun the chair around to stare at the basement full of file cabinets, a large vault, storage lockers, two computers, and a dozen varied scientific machines centered around a lab top. Clinching his jaw, Ianto rose from his chair and walked over to the stairs. He waited until he had reached the top and had the door open before turning off the lights.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12 July, 1998.
"Dear Diary. Abnormal growth and dietary habits have been noticed by subject. Future inquiries are required for updates." Looking down, Ianto stared forlornly at the slight swell that prevented him from buttoning his favorite pants. "I believe I have located another form of evidence, alien technology. What is lacking to acquiring said evidence are the funds associated with major archival projects. Thankfully, current Archivist has begun investigating with online auctions. Current highest bid, twelve pounds. Archivist willing to pay twenty, but not a penny more."
Ianto picked up a report he had typed out on the object, including print outs of the pictures and documentation provided by the seller. He was about to read the recording numbers for his diary when the basement door opened. Glancing up, he met the house keeper's stern gaze. He paused the recording. "What is it, Mrs. Bunson?"
She smirked at him, old gnarled teeth bared in a parody of a smile. "There are some people here to see you, young bastard. Seems you've violated some laws by participating in an auction with your computer." Snickering at his paling complexion, she slammed the door shut.
Turning the recording on quickly, Ianto leaned forward to the microphone. "File marked Zeta, one-one-eight is all the detailed information about the auction. Archival enemy MB has informed Archivist of local authorities investigating Archivist online investigative activities. Lock down procedures on Archives are now in effect." Turning off the recording, he shut down and logged off the computer.
He pushed off from the desk and slid the chair to the file cabinets behind him. Shoving the file in the cabinet drawer, he slammed it shut and turned the key at the top to lock it. Pulling out the key, he wheeled the chair back over to the desk and pulled open a small slot behind the leg of the desk. He dropped the key in the slot and shut it just as the basement door opened.
Turning his chair slowly, Ianto looked up the stairs to find a familiar couple staring down at him. Smirking, he crossed his arms. "What took you so long?"
The woman in the Burberry jacket took the lead. Her white-blonde curls clashed against the bland color of her jacket and matching hat. Red finger nails trailed over the arm rail as she took each step purposely in stride. "Ianto Jones, sixteen, resident of Splott, Cardiff. Thorn in my backside. How many times must we wipe your memory before you quit getting in to trouble?"
Ianto met the amused blue eyed gaze of the man who remained at the top of the stairs. Nodding once in recognition, he turned his attention back to the woman. She wore a look of distaste as she examined his basement. "I'm afraid I can not speculate on future events at this time. Perhaps if you left my memory intact, I might be more open later."
"Not happening." Reaching in to her jacket pocket, she pulled out a small vial. Uncapping it, she crossed the short distance to Ianto's chair. "Are you going to swallow this, or do I get to have a little fun, then make you swallow it?"
Ianto met the man's gaze once more, before opening his mouth. He ignored her sigh of disappointment and swallowed as she emptied the entire vial in his mouth. He swallowed visibly just to piss her off, ending with a smack and gasp of pleasure. Looking back to her, he grinned. "All gone."
She snorted as she capped the vial and stuck it back in to her jacket. "Until next time, you little..."
"Mariah!" Taking a step forwards, the man shook his head in warning. "We are not to harm him if he takes the retcon voluntarily."
Mariah smiled prettily at Jack before reaching out and snatching Ianto by the chin. "If that stuck up little prig from Torchwood London wasn't the director's lap candy, I'd rip your eyes out and shove them up your arse! Stay out of my way." Shoving him back, she dusted off her leather gloves and climbed the stairs.
The man waited a moment after she walked out of the basement to smile down at Ianto. "You lied to me."
Frowning, Ianto cocked his eyebrow.
"You don't remember, but you told me you were eighteen." Waving off Ianto's confused look, he turned and walked out.
Turning back to his desk, Ianto grabbed a pencil and paper, then scribbled down two words and the date.
Retcon.
Torchwood.
A short time later, he was snoring in his desk chair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
18 September, 1998.
"Dear Diary. Last night, lights were spotted over the harbor. Inspectors said nothing of extraordinary nature was to be observed, but they burned bright and lasted for three hours, ten minutes, eighteen seconds. In unrelated news, a massive tidal rising was experienced shortly after the lights were extinguished. Archivist has spent most of the morning combing the beach for evidence." Ianto glanced down at the small piece of shiny metal resting in his lap. He could feel a warmth emanating from it through his sweat pants. Pants that were stretched thinly over his protruding stomach.
"Previous Archivist's Geiger counter has declared single recovered artifact void of any radiological activity. Heat detected emanating from the device through contact is believed to be a direct result of energy production. Still, for safety reasons, a lead container of at least thirty centimeters thickness is recommended for storage." Picking up a tag on a string, he tied the string around the bulbous end of the artifact. "Artifact is marked as identification number Zeta, nine-two-seven."
After he paused the recording, he pushed the chair over to the far side of his basement lab. There lining the walls were a series of led boxes built in to the basement. He thumbed the locks, feeling the tumblers inside realign until he heard a snick. Pulling open the door to an empty container, he placed the item inside. As he started to close the door, the device emanated a small flash.
Ianto slammed the door shut and spun the lock. Pushing off from the wall, he picked up his Geiger counter and began to scan the room. There were no emissions detected and he finally felt his pulse rate settle down. Turning back on the recording, he shivered. "Artifact flashed red light as lead door was closing. Radiation levels are normal. Archivist recommends the artifact be left sealed in archives for a period of no less than ten years before further investigation. Precaution requested due to possible power source contained within, posing unacceptable dangerous risk to archivist."
Turning off his recording, Ianto's stomach growled. With a reluctant sigh, he eased his growing body out of the chair and trudged over to the stairs. He gave the basement a once over before climbing them and turning out the lights.
In the lead containment box, the device glowed three more times before emitting a high pitched whine. After a few seconds the whine died down and the device smolder until the oxygen was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2 October, 1998.
"Dear Diary. Follow up to subject's abnormal growth. Movement detected. Subject's growth is kicking. Subject was forced to change underwear upon discovery of growth kicking." Trailing his fingers over the bared expanse of his stomach, he rubbed in circles. Still, the movement would not abate. Wincing, he shifted once more in his chair and scratched at the skin behind his ear. "Frequency in movement has increased dramatically. Subject has grown beyond tolerable limits of comfort and is seeking medical attention."
Burping, he waved a hand in front of his face. "Gaseous emissions are another symptom of parasitic infestation. Subject has become a subject of ridicule among peers. Professionalism is out of the question. Archivist is locking down Jones Files until further notice." Shaking his head, he winced again and clutched at the area behind his ear. "Aches have become frequent, host is suffering from numerous biological symptoms of degradation."
Rising from his chair, Ianto had to steady himself on the back rest. "Host is...fuck it!" Hitting the mouse, he turned off the recording. Without bothering to turn off the computer, he wobbled up the stairs. He slammed the basement door behind him, the lights still on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
7 October, 1998.
"Dear Diary. I have no idea where I have been." Hand resting over his eyes, Ianto eased himself back in to his chair, careful to avoid touching his flat stomach. "They say I was missing for three days this time. Mrs. Bunson claimed I had run away to have my mutant bastard in seclusion. My father has dismissed her from our family's service, which was rather generous considering I wished she'd step in front of a lorry."
Snorting, he twisted his desk chair until his stretched out arm was laying on the desk. His entire body ached and was three shades of pale away from translucent, the doctors had said. They also said he hadn't eaten in three days and his white blood cell count was abnormally high. A lazy glance over to the computer told him the audio diary was still recording.
"Parasitical infestation has been removed. Hormones are returning to normal. Figure is returning, though I'll be wearing a size six pants from now on. None of my old trousers will fit either, my father's having himself a fit over that. Doctor says my waist is now eighty-six centimeters lean. 'Lovely hips for a girl', he said. I called him a twat and promptly burst in to tears."
Rolling his eyes, he ended the recording. Slowly sliding out of his chair, he used the desk to get himself standing. In ten minutes the computer would go to screen saver and then it would be password locked to get off it. That would have to do for security measures for now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1 January, 1999.
"Dear Diary. Spotted the Witch of Burberry Lane at a party last night. Yvonne was hosting a few friends and family for the new year, father 'suggested' I snag an invitation. She's all right, but I'm not certain about the ones she kept calling Uncle Darling and Aunt Metilda. This guy who spent his time soaking up the punch called them both Nutter. I must admit I saw his point." Ianto frowned. His bottom was extremely sore, but he had no recollection. "I get the feeling I felt it as well."
Wrinkling his nose, he shuddered. "He was the most repugnant man I'd ever met, can't be much older than I, said he's pre-med. His cheek bones gave his face an almost...alien quality and he spoke through his nose when he became emotional." Clearing his throat, he typed in a vague physical description of the man on his sightings list.
"Yvonne was friendly, exuding enthusiasm and confidence with everyone she met. She was the perfect hostess, never lingering too long upon one topic or person. Everyone agreed it was 'a smashing success'." Shaking his head from side to side, he mimicked the londoner's accent for the last. "Yvonne gave a hundred and thirty-percent, as usual. Before the party, I found her standing in front of a mirror practicing lines she later used at the event. I would almost say my dear cousin was robotic, if the fact I hadn't seen her crying while perfecting her smile."
Ianto lapsed in to quiet for a while.
Taking a deep breath, he typed in another physical description, this one of his cousin. "One of the last things I remember clearly was the Burberry bitch. Not surprisingly, she wore a Burberry hat. Curiously, a word I had not heard before was whispered in her wake, but I am coming to understand is derogatory in context. Perhaps, when we next meet, I will ask her what 'chav' means."
"The more I dwell upon it, I am certain that Owen fellow slipped me something. I do not make a habit of shagging the first interested prick that comes along." He frowned. "At least, I think. Note to self, no more alcohol, exclamation mark, under lined three times."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
28 February, 1999.
"Dear Diary. I am certain that this mysterious note I found stuffed down the back of my desk was written by myself. What I am to make of these two words, I am not certain." Folding the paper and unfolding it, he checked for anything else that would explain. "What are Torchwood and Retcon? I am extremely reluctant to do an online search as the Jones File for that date indicates I was being monitored. A file I have no recollection of making."
Rubbing his forehead, he felt a growing twinge begin. "Since my quest began two years ago, I have begun to collect gaps in my memory. How many of these are Retcon responsible for? Are the people of Retcon a secret government agency? If so, what is Torchwood used for? It sounds inflammatory, perhaps even a sexual aide. Do the people of Retcon use Torchwood to have sex with aliens?"
Ianto felt that was wrong, but he couldn't place it. "Torchwood. Blue eyes. Jack. Those are all things linked in my mind, but the gaps in memory won't let me know why." He mouthed the name Jack once more. It sent a thrill through him. "I am having pleasant emotional flash backs every time I think of Jack. Who is this Jack?"
He closed his eyes, trying to picture blue eyes staring at him. It was surprisingly easy given the difficulty over the other memories. With the image of those blue eyes came a feeling of being thrown over a desk. Ianto had to grab the arms of his chair in order to keep himself from falling out of his chair. His spine clenched as he relived the experience of being fucked, for there were no other words for that animalistic rutting.
Gasping, he shuddered, throwing his head back. With a guttural groan, he came in his pants. He was still shaking by the time he sank bonelessly back in his chair. Fingers unable to remain steady, he paused the recording. "What the bloody hell was that?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
18 March, 1999.
"Dear Diary!" Gasping, Ianto could barely restrain himself to sit down. Deciding it wasn't worth the effort, he jumped to his feet. "I found them! I found Torchwood! I'm not certain how much they know I know, but I get the feeling it won't be long before they come by calling for tea and retcon."
Clutching his hair, he tugged on it in frustration. "I hate this! I saw them, they were with an alien. I saw the alien, it was beautiful, and they just shot it! Now, I don't ordinarily judge a person without first knowing their motivations, but this, this was murder! It came in peace, I knew it, I could feel it in my bones. They didn't care, they didn't care! They. Didn't. Care!" Rubbing at his face, Ianto used his sleeve to scrub his nose clean.
"They're evil. I didn't want to believe it, but it's true. Jack. The Burberry bitch. Owen. Cousin Yvonne." He stopped in his tracks. It took him a moment to figure out why he included her. "She knows them," he whispered. "Yvonne is in on it. She knows who Torchwood is and she never said a word. Grand father, all these years, and she never said one word to me."
"She didn't say a word."
Shaking his head, Ianto fell in to his chair. He ran a hand over the lower half of his face. "She never said a thing. All these wasted years of chasing shadows and she was dealing with the real thing." He shook his head in denial once more. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. "She's Torchwood, which means she's knew. My entire investigation has been compromised."
Glancing about the basement lab at the file cabinets, locked lead boxes, computers, lab equipment, vault, and the empty weapon's locker, he wondered how much his grand father had really known. Had he converted the basement in to a bomb shelter because of the Nazi's, or was there something else he had feared more? The earliest Jones File started nearly a decade after the conversion was complete, and it barely contained the facts of a UFO sighting. Looking the basement over again, the lead lined walls forming an almost air tight room, something clicked.
"He knew." Climbing out of his chair, he staggered unsteadily to the lead lockers over to the side of the room. Going to the farthest one from the ones he used, he cleared the dust away from the lock. Slowly, he entered the seven digit combination. Grabbing the handle, he twisted it down and pulled the door open.
Reaching in to the locker, he grabbed the glass tube and pulled it out. It was a triangular piece of metal that was almost identical to the one he knew rested ten doors across, two doors down. Carrying it to his lab table, he opened up the glass tube and dumped the metal in a sample dish. After discarding the tube, he grabbed a bottle of alcohol and dumped a little in the dish.
Ianto swirled the piece of metal in the pan for a bit before tipping it in to the basin and draining out the alcohol. Next, he picked up a bottle of saline solution and emptied enough to just cover the triangle in the dish. Swallowing, he forced his shaking hands to open the drawer in front of him and pull out a small scalpel and a wetnap.
Reaching up behind his left ear, he tore open the wetnap and scrubbed the skin. He put the wetnap on the labtop and picked up the scalpel. Closing his eyes, he guided the scalpel behind his ear to the ridged scar. Holding his breath, he gently pressed the blade in to his skin. It hurt, but the pain was just out of reach.
Opening his eyes, he quickly reached in to the dish and pulled out the piece of metal. He had to force his hand to carry it behind his ear where he could feel warmth trailing down his skin in to his collar. Gritting his teeth, he placed the edge of the metal in to the open cut and slid it under his skin. Biting back a scream, he continued to push the piece of metal in until he could no longer feel it outside of his skin.
With shaking hands, he grabbed the wetnap and dragged it over the open wound. He scrambled through the supplies he had in the drawer until he came up with a blue bandage. After wiping the wound clear, he plastered the bandage over the cut. He slammed the drawer shut and grabbed a package of sterile sponges off the shelf above the sink. Soaking one, he washed the blood off his head and neck.
Wandering back to his chair, he gently eased himself down in to it. He tried to keep his neck and spine straight as it seemed to keep the pain down. Grabbing the microphone, he cleared his throat. "Since mine was damaged, I have placed an identical implant removed from an unidentified person behind my ear. It was the earliest piece of alien technology grand father collected. He seemed to believe that if left shielded, it would summon the aliens who created it."
Snickering, he wiped his cheeks clean. "Here's hoping he was right." Putting the microphone back on the stand next to his computer, he shut off the recording. Ianto sat there for several minutes, building up the courage to leave the protection of the basement. Finally, he took a deep breath, and stood up.
Forcing himself to walk up the stairs, he opened the door and turned off the light. As the door started to close behind him, a brilliant light filled the room beyond.
Ten minutes later, a tap came upon the door. When it swung open, a blonde head came through the door. "Ianto?" She flipped the switch to turn on the lights.
"He's in there, just go on down. And take this bloody yank with you!"
Yvonne scowled at her uncle, but nodded. Pushing the door open all the way, she led Jack down the solid brick stairs in to the basement. Not having been there since she was a little girl, she was impressed by the upgrades in technology. "Ianto?" She walked around the row of filing cabinets to the storage room on the opposite side of the room. She was surprised to find a series of combination locks on the steel door.
"Wow, and I thought we were paranoid." Tugging on the pockets of his coat, Jack observed the other various locks and doors across the room. "I've been here once before, but never actually came in. I wonder what he's keeping down here."
"Welcome to Torchwood: Jones." Crossing the room to the computer, Yvonne moved the mouse to turn off the screen saver. When it prompted her for a password, she snorted. "Typical. If he's even half as good as his security suggests, he'll be working for us next year."
"Torchwood: Jones? What's he keeping down here, pictures of UFLs, Unidentified Folded Laundry?" Picking up a file off the computer desk, Jack started to flip through it carelessly, but stopped. Going back two pages, he stared in shock at the picture. "This looks like one of ours!"
"It probably is. I have copies of everything in here up til two years ago when my grand father passed and Ianto took over." Trying her seventh attempt, Yvonne muttered a curse under her breath when it failed. "Damn! There's no telling what the little bugger is using. If I had brought my equipment, I could get it."
"Why not just try restarting it? I forget my password all the time." Closing the file, Jack put it back on the desk.
"It's not that simple. Knowing the paranoia he's inherited from the old man, if I restarted it without using the password at the beginning, I would get a dummy directory. Any attempts at trying to force the damned thing would probably cause the harddrive to self terminate." Standing back up, she shook her head and exhaled slowly. "He's very good."
"May be you are giving him too much credit. Even if your grand father was as great as you say, there's nothing to say Ianto is anything like him. Though, he certainly knows how to get what he wants." Jack waggled his eyebrows at her as he took the office chair. "Let me give it a whack. Passwords a teenage boy might use. Twat."
Jack tapped in the word, but got a negative response. Hearing Yvonne's snort, he frowned. "Okay, so he's a little more refined. Breasts." He typed in the word, again the screen beeped before prompting for password. Grinning at her, he typed in four letters. When he hit enter, the screen saver disappeared. He was about to brag about it to her when he caught sight of the open files on the screen. "What the hell?"
On the monitor, a slide show of pictures of him and his team was playing in one corner while images of a triangular piece of metal faded in and out in the left hand corner. A text file accompanied both, but it was scrolling by too fast for him to make out. At the bottom was a horizontal scroll menu with audio files. Clicking on one, he pressed play.
"Dear Diary. They call themselves Torchwood. I'm not certain about the extent of their organization, their resources, or how much they know. What I have been so far able to gather is that they know about the aliens who visit our planet. From previous contact with suspected members, given the limited scope of it, I am assuming for now their intent is benevolent. One man saved my life today from being eaten. While it may have been a purely opportunistic save, I hope this Jack was sincere. He seems nice and well put together. I'm glad this is only audio, else you would notice I was blushing like a school girl."
Jack smiled as the file finished playing. He was still smiling when Yvonne shoved him out of the way. Pulling up the main menu, she typed in a series of inquests. The computer came up with a data file for her efforts. The image of the implant came front and center. Her lips moving as she read the attached text, she nearly fell over from shock.
Composing herself, she stood up and tugged on her suit jacket. She inhaled, held the breath, then exhaled. "Call the others, tell them to collect everything in this basement. Blast the locks off the doors if they have to."
"What about Ianto? Won't Mr. Jones care that we've confiscated his hard work?" Not really caring, Jack stood up from the desk chair.
"He won't be needing it." She cast Jack a serious look. "He won't be coming back this time." As she walked to the stairs, Jack watched her go in confusion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
13 August, 2008.
On Tosh's computer console, the flying stars screen saver froze, then was replaced by a pop up window. Several more appeared on that screen and others across the hub. Lights flickered in the central chamber, causing the alarm to sound.
Awakening on his cot, Jack sat up. The squawking of the monitoring equipment was going off. He could tell from the exact sound that it wasn't the rift monitor this time. It took him another second to realize it was the alien tech readings.
Throwing back his covers, he jumped from his bed. He rushed over to the ladder and started to climb the rungs. His head had just cleared the top of the hatch when he was forced to cringe and look away.
A brilliant flash of light filled the hub, causing the walls to shake and a dull roar to echo in the chamber. With a sheering sound, a shock wave exploded from the center of the light. The glass walls of the conference room and Jack's office exploded as they were hit.
Having nearly fallen from the explosion, Jack had to take the time to right himself on the ladder before he could climb out. Once he had, though, he wasted no time in taking the last of the rungs. Carefully, he crouched down and examined the damage to the hub. Equipment, tools, alien tech, even part of the Myfanwy's nest lay in pieces where they had landed after the explosion.
He would have gone for his gun, but his desk was currently half imbedded in the wall, pinning his chair in the solid stone. Eyes wide, he began to seriously reevaluate the nature of the blast. From the way a coffee mug was currently merged with the conference room table, he didn't think the concussion wave was the intended side effect.
Movement in the center of the hub drew his attention. Weapon less, he decided to go full brassy and strutted out of his office. Now that he could see better, he noticed it was two figures. They appeared humanoid, and the little one kinda even looked a little familiar with those bright blue eyes.
Pulling the young one close, the taller one followed its gaze to look up at Jack. Brown mottled flesh covered its face. It raised its chin in defiance at him.
Placing his hands on his boxer hips, Jack grinned. "Welcome to Torchwood."
Reaching in to a pouch on its waist, the tall one pulled out a knife. Before Jack could say anything, it had carved a line down the center of its face. Grasping the edges of the brown skin, he pried them apart.
Jack winced in sympathy, but found he couldn't drag his eyes away. When the figure had pulled the skin completely off its face, he could only stare. He had to blink several times. "I guess she was wrong about that too."
Free of the constricting brown skin, the newly exposed human face moved as he stretched his facial muscles. Focusing on Jack, he gave a half formed grin that twitched from unused muscles. "Hello, Jack."
Snorting, Jack shook his head.
THE END...................