Title: The Hour of the Wolf (6/10)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Torchwood Three team and their offspring

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, four years or so after The Eye of Neith.

Summary: Something is happening in St. Catherine’s Glen, and whatever it is will change the Cooper-Williams family forever…

            The sun was low in the horizon, and shadows riddled the glen with imaginary movement. The air smelled of lightning and green apples, a combination he had come to associate with alien presence, but the usually pleasant smell was overlaid by a stench of wet fur that was recognizably different from that of a dog. The werewolf had passed through this area two or three days before.

            The improved – hell, transformed – sense of smell had been the first change he really had noticed. The TARDIS has explained that as his neural networks evolved his human senses would expand. When asked how much, it had given the mental equivalent of a shrug.

            *It has never happened before. Several stages above present human development, certainly.*

            It had been hideously difficult at first. The new sensory inputs had nearly overwhelmed his ability to process them, but with the TARDIS and Jack’s help he had learned to control them and to some extent manipulate them. One delightful side effect he had discovered was an ability to turn Jack’s fifty-first century pheromones against him. Just thinking about the results of that little experiment made him chuckle.

            “Now that’s an obscene little sound,” Jane remarked with a chuckle of her own. “Thinking about Jack?”

            “As a matter of fact… yes.”

            “Archie said he was a right bastard to deal with the first few months after you left. Even afterwards he said Jack wasn’t quite the same.” She frowned. “He must have known you were back, but didn’t say anything.”

            Ianto had been wondering the same thing since their meeting at the helipad. He had spoken to Archie and his archivist, Helena Blount, several times since his return. Archie was an inveterate gossip and keeping that sort of news to himself was uncharacteristic, to say the least.

            “You know Archie,” he answered easily, “eccentricity is his middle name.”

            “Now that’s the truth. So tell me, are you back in Torchwood full time?”

            “Duw, no. I’m here because of the kids.”

            “They are very important to you?”

            “Gwen, Rhys, Jack, and I went through a lot together. Then Gwen had difficulties conceiving. Doctors told her she would likely never have children. The four of us got pissed and cried like babies that night. When the twins arrived it was like we all became parents. They were even born in the Hub. Gwen was off field duty but would still manage all the liaison work. She went into labor and Martha had to deliver the babies right then and there. It was Martha’s first full day of work and she had just found out she was three months pregnant. Wild night, that one.”

            “I noticed she named one of them after you but the other one wasn’t named after Jack.”

            Ianto couldn’t miss the speculation. “Jack said there were enough Jacks in the world already and his real name wasn’t pretty enough. Instead he demanded the right to name the baby. The whole of Torchwood Three walked around nearly hysterical for three days until he announced his decision. Pryce is actually an old Welsh surname, ap Rhys.”

            “Rhys’s son. Very traditional.”

            “Jack can be that way when the spirit moves him. Of course, when Toshi came along later… Rhys says they had her for Jack.”

            “You are a family,” Jane sounded wistful. “Torchwood Three is becoming damn near a legend, you know.”

            “Jack gets quite a kick out of that. So tell me about you, Jane. How’s Torchwood Two treating you? Any interesting gossip you’d care to pass along?”

            She laughed and proceeded to regale him with tales of Archie’s wild antics. He listened and laughed at all the appropriate moments but his mind ranged, scanning the area around him. There were signs everywhere, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source.

            *Ianto.*

            *Yes, Jack.* It still amazed him how effortless the Joining had become. *News?*

            *John’s on the phone. Can you listen in?*

            *Yes.*

            “Your friend in Scotland wasn’t very thorough.” Listening through Jack’s ears made John’s voice sound oddly amplified. “The Brethren of St. John are not exactly persona grata at the Vatican. The moment I mentioned them they battened down the hatches and went into full battle mode.”

            “So you got nothing?”

            “Please. I called Isabella. That was a great idea of yours, Jack. Torchwood Italy’s tight with all the right powers that be. When you add to that the Branciforte name… does Eye-Candy know that his aristocratic former flame is also papal nobility?”

            *Yes. Get on with it, blabbermouth.*

            There was a brief silence at the other end. “Well, that was a new experience. Anyway. Isabella’s contact told her that the Brethren ran out of town one step ahead of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, also known once upon a time as the Holy Inquisition. For good reason, apparently. Isabella says he tried to give her the old ‘unnatural practices’ bromide at first, but after she poured a little more wine he spilled the beans. It turns out the Brethren engaged in religious practice that was, to put it mildly, unorthodox. Worship of wolves, ecstatic pseudo-transformation. Also, when I checked on their Spain operations, I found that the Guardia Civil was after them because several young novices had died or disappeared under very strange circumstances.”

            “Jane should have known that, at least.”

            “I thought so. I looked up her record and she seems to be a competent agent.”

            “Thanks, John.” Jack terminated the call. *Ianto?*

            *John’s right. She should have known about the Spain situation. And she certainly should have reported the Vatican’s stonewalling.*

            *Look after yourself, ok?*

            *Yeah.*

            He felt Jack disengage, leaving behind the image of a lingering kiss.  His – lover? mate? One? – seemed to find it easier to communicate his emotions non-verbally. After sending back an appropriate response, he turned his attention to the immediate problem.

            He would need to deal with Jane.

            She had been, if not actually a friend, a good colleague, but now he wondered how deep her involvement with the Brethren ran. If she had been recruited recently, there was a good chance she could be turned back, but Ianto had a feeling there was more to it than that. Archie’s unusual reticence spoke of something seriously amiss. The eccentric Scotsman was a hell of a good judge of character; if he doubted Jane, Ianto would follow suit until proven wrong.

            *She has belonged to them from childhood.* The TARDIS sounded sad. *Twisted in emotion and reasoning. You must leave her behind. Keeping the Riftborn from harm is most important now.*

            *The what?*

            *Their mother comes from a long lineage of Rift talents. Their father’s lineage has deep roots in the soil of Wales and carries a great deal of its character. They were born on the Rift itself. They hold much promise.*

            *All right. How do I go about it?*

            *Like this.*

            The instructions that flowed into his mind left Ianto reeling. *I can do that?*

            *Yes.* Ianto’s wild, disjointed thoughts seemed to amuse the TARDIS immensely. *Well, you could have sound effects if you like, but that is more of an eccentricity of that particular TARDIS.*

            “You have one of those looks again,” Jane remarked. “Have you been listening to me at all?”

            He touched her wrist gently. “I’m so sorry, Jane.”

            “What?”

            He saw her draw back in shock and terror as he began to fade from view, but he had no time for anything else but the overwhelming shock of entering the Vortex. The wild beauty and strength of it pushed against his senses. His mind expanded, again and yet again, trying to encompass its infinity, but all he could do was to dive deep into it until he could see the strands of Spacetime itself, curving, weaving, interlacing.  There was so much there that even Time Lords had not understood.  

            He was attracted to a group of strands that wove themselves tightly around two thick cords, one bronze, one deepest azure, and were themselves surrounded by yet another of a color he could not name. The azure strand looped and wove back and forth exuberantly; warmth seemed to pour from it, distinct and yet part of the Vortex itself. The bronze one seemed to float alone in the center, but the others twinned themselves around it again and again, and its light washed over them like a benediction.  In the distance he could see… he laughed. Oh, the Time Lord was in for a surprise indeed!

            *No time now. Look.*

            One of the smaller cords seemed to be fraying. Ianto tightened his hand on it, searching.

            *Uncle Jack!*

            The sound resonated inside his head as a fountain of red-gold energy burst upwards right through his fingers.

            *Pryce?!*