Title: A Very Private War (3/7)

Author: Emma

Characters: John Hart, Torchwood Three team

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Spoilers: None. This takes place in my Homecoming AU

Summary: John Hart is pulled back in time to fight a war he does not remember

Author’s Notes: A randomiser was used by the 4^th doctor in The Armageddon Factor to hide the trail of the TARDIS from the Black Guardian. The device actually scrambles the TARDIS’s coordinate settings, sending it to random places in space-time. As for John’s sword, James Marsters said in a Radio Times interview that it was Korean. After much looking, the one I thought resembled John’s the most was a byeolungeom from the Joseon (Chosun) dynasty. Don’t argue with me!

            John sprawled on the ratty old sofa, watching Torchwood Three – which now seemed to include Rhys Williams – go about its business. Gwen had insisted he stayed put, and at the moment it suited John to accommodate her. He noticed that one of the team, usually Ianto, was within shooting distance. They weren’t taking any chances and he couldn’t blame them.

            He was still trying to wrap his brain around the concept of the Toclafane, or, for that matter, the alliance of a British prime minister with them. And where the hell was Jack? Whatever else he might have done, the man John had encountered in Cardiff would not have abandoned his team to face this alone.

            “Where did you get a byeolungeom?”

            “Trust you to know it’s not a katana.”  John smiled up at Ianto. “Tell you what. Trade you the story for a cup of your coffee.”

            “Tosh is running some tests on it. She thinks there’s something odd about it.”

            “She’s right. Coffee?”

            Ianto stared at him for a several seconds before walking off towards the kitchen. John gave a sigh of relief. Of all the team, Ianto was the most dangerous to him. Jack’s Eye-Candy was probably empathic, maybe even telepathic under some conditions. John would prefer that he didn’t find out too much.

            As Ianto moved away, Owen Harper moved in. The doctor didn’t bother with conversation; he just leaned against a column, gun held loosely but very competently. John felt a sudden, foolish urge to apologize and squelched it ruthlessly. In the future this man would die – did die – because of John’s stupid obsession with Jack Harkness. Nothing John could say would change it, and he was damned if he did any more harm just so he maybe could find some sort of absolution. Instead he asked a question.

            “Why didn’t you go to the Himalayas?”

            “Too damn cold,” Owen snapped, then relented. “There are still some UNIT folk who remember their mandate. One of them’s an old London acquaintance of Ianto’s. He warned us Saxon wanted us out of the way, preferably permanently.”

            “You’re the only effective opposition,” John said. “He has UNIT under his thumb and the Toclafane as his enforcers. Torchwood is the only thing he can’t control.”

            “There are only four of us, for God’s sake! Five, now that Rhys’s been dragged into it. What can we do?”

            “Be a thorn on his side. Frustrate his plans whenever you can. Hold the line. Organize the resistance. Serve as an example. Keep his people distracted and out of balance.” John shrugged. “There’s a type of personality who cannot stand that.”

            “Sounds like you’ve had some experience in these matters.” Ianto put a tray loaded with coffee cups and biscuits on the table in front of him. “Perhaps you can give us some tips before you leave.”

            Everyone had drifted closer, drawn by the scent of coffee. Ianto distributed cups and passed biscuits around. John was thankful for the interruption. In spite of what Toshiko had said, he wasn’t sure that his presence would not make things worse. His first instinct was to cut and run, but he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that he was missing something.

            “You said you had hurt the Toclafane,” Gwen said. “How?”

            “My sword can cut through their blades. That’s very little use against something armed with energy beams and invulnerable to high-velocity ammo.”

            “Your sword is very unusual,” Toshiko said. She had sat down her to him on the sofa and was nibbling thoughtfully on a chocolate biscuit. “Korean antique of the highest quality. The blade, though, is a composite metal I can’t identify.”

            “I’m not surprised. It’s not common in this world and I did the work myself.” He bit into one of the biscuits and got a mouthful of soft gooey chocolate. “Ummm. Delicious.”

            “You’re an alien?” Owen asked, not sounding very surprised.

            “Human as they come in the fifty-first century. Say human with modifications.” He smiled brilliantly as the explanation dawned on him. “Like Jack.”

            “Jack’s… not an American.” Rhys laughed then rested his head in his hands. “That’s the only thing that makes sense out of all of this.”

            “Why are you telling us now?” Gwen asked.

            “Because,” Ianto said blandly, “Mr. Hart has just realized that none of us will remember him in the future, so it doesn’t matter in the long term.”

            “What if his telling us changes the future?”

            “It can’t,” Ianto answered before John could say anything. “For him it’s already happened.”

            “You know, Eye-Candy, you would have made one hell of a Time Agent. He’s right,” John said, turning to Gwen. “There’s a certain rhythm to temporal incidents, a kind of …scent. You learn to recognize it in my business. Whatever is happening, we are only peripherally involved. Doesn’t mean we don’t have a role to play.”

            “We?” Ianto said.

            John shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything more pressing. Besides, there’s one thing that has to be done no matter what.”

            “Close the Rift,” Toshiko sat up, looking as she had just discovered a spider egg in her chocolate. “Secure it so the Toclafane can’t slip through it again. In the future you live in, there are no Toclafane. There isn’t even a memory of them. If they manage to find a way through…”

            “Whatever happened to take them out of the time line will have been worthless.” John finished the thought. “Are you sure it was an accident?”

            “Yes. Opening the Rift on purpose leaves a totally different energy signature.” Unaccountably, she blushed. “I’ve had reason to check that lately.”

            John tapped his manipulator. “Then we’ll need to make certain it can’t be opened from this side even with this.”

            “That means you will be trapped here for the duration of,” she tried to find the proper word and failed, “whatever this is.”

            “Like I said, it’s not like I have anything more pressing to do. In fact, I think this might be the most pressing thing I have ever had to do.”

            “We don’t need to shut it down,” Toshiko said, eyes unfocusing slightly. “Redirecting it would be a little better actually. That way the change couldn’t be detected.”

            “Toshiko Sato, I could kiss you!” John punched the air with one fist. “I don’t suppose we have a randomiser around here, do we?”

            “We don’t,” said Ianto. “But I know of someone who might.”

            “Who?”

            “Henry Parker. He’s a collector of Rift artifacts, and he’s been known to get his hands on some very interesting things. I think I know where to find him.”

            “Is he hiding?”

            “Possession of alien artifacts has been made a capital offense,” Gwen said. “All the collectors have gone underground.”

            “All right. How do we move around out there? They are going to be looking for you.”

            “Not yet. Tosh and Ianto played fool-the-computer.” Gwen leaned against Rhys’s shoulder and gave John a mischievous grin. “Torchwood Three boarded a plane at Heathrow and a military transport in Frankfurt. We were checked in at Kathmandu airport and left for Mayumla Phedi with a native guide as instructed in two fully loaded Land Cruisers. One of the Cruisers was reported overturned in a ravine. We haven’t been seen since. Presumed dead.”

            “And before you ask,” Tosh said testily, “a military plane on its way back from that area of the world crashed on final approach at a Frankfurt military airport. There were no survivors. We just used it for our own purposes.”

            “Damn, you people are good. All right, then. Torchwood is gone. Does anybody at all know you’re in Cardiff?”

            “A policeman friend. He can be trusted.”

            “Fine. First we redirect the Rift. Then we start figuring out ways to put a very large dent in our Overlord’s ego.”