Title: Evolution (3/?)
Author: Emma
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Rhys Williams, others
Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack and Ianto in it!
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?
Summary: Rhys Williams has his own monsters to fight, but why can't he remember?
Author’s Note: This story takes place in a totally different AU from Homecoming. In this one, Gwen and Owen died at the end of TW2.
Prologue is here; Part one is here; Part two is here

            “You were right.” Euan grabbed the last scone and drowned it in marmalade. “We found Ollies’ tracks out by the bridge road. He might have been meeting someone. The old battleaxe says she saw a white lorry turning onto the road at about seven thirty.”

           

            “Did Mrs. Jones” Thomas emphasized the name gently, “notice the driver?”

 

            “No. She was doing dishes. Caught a glimpse of its lights out her kitchen window.” Euan poured himself some coffee. “Ollie obviously was expecting the…ah…delivery, because he took the blanket with him. He takes the baby then cuts across the campion meadow and through the woods… But why? All he had to do was walk back along the road for less than a mile and he would be here. Why tromp through the woods in this weather?”

 

            “Ollie was a local, right?” I asked.

 

            “Doesn’t get any more local-er.” Anger showed in Thomas’s eyes. “His grandfather worked for mine, and his mum and tad for mine. Ollie was family.”

 

            “He must have been running from someone, then.” Or something, I thought, but carefully didn’t say. “He must have thought he could lose them in the woods.”

 

            “Rhys, mate, I should just let you do my job.” Euan made a face. “I should have seen that.”

 

            “You’re exhausted.” Thomas said. “Why don’t you crash for a while?”

 

            “I might just take you up on the offer. As soon as they take the body away.”

 

            Poor Ollie’s body was still behind the barn. The local police surgeon, Dr. Barnes, was on another call. Euan and his sergeant had stayed to wait for him, as per regulations; the joys of rural policing. Everyone in the yard was trying to do their jobs without thinking about the gruesome thing under the horse blanket. The baby was upstairs, being watched over by Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, who, drawing on her experience as a mother of six and grandmother of fifteen, had pronounced her perfectly healthy, fed her some warm milk, and set her down to drool on Thomas’s antique quilt.

 

            “Rhys,” Euan said, “last night you saw someone going into the woods. Could you give us a description?”

 

            I’d been thinking about that for a while. Not warning Euan was not an option, but somehow I didn’t think there is a monster in the woods would inspire much confidence. True, Euan and Thomas had known me for a while, and they were shrewd judges of character. I could tell them the truth and they would defer judgment, at least for a while.

 

            But I still hesitated. Part of me knew there was a reason, but I couldn’t remember it. No, that wasn’t quite it. Something was keeping me from remembering. Someone, somehow, had simply locked part of my life away inside my head.

 

            I was so shaken by the revelation that I didn’t even realize there was something wrong until I saw Euan and Thomas bolt from the room. I started to follow them when a sound near the kitchen garden door caught my attention. Hefting Eddie’s walking stick I walked out of the kitchen as quietly as I could. Right by the laundry room door the back corridor made a sharp turn, and if you stood flat against the wall someone coming into the garden couldn’t see you, but you could see them in the mirror hanging above the small table where we all dropped our keys at night.

 

            I didn’t have long to wait. The door opened and two men stepped inside. They wore black from head to toe, ski masks included. Professionals they weren’t. The first one tripped over Mrs. Hill’s wellies and slapped his greasy paw on the wallpaper to stop himself from going head first into the wall. The print was visible to the naked eye. The second one grabbed him by the back of the jacket and pointed towards the inside of the house with a nasty-looking gun.

 

            “Move it!” he hissed. “We got to find that baby!”

 

            I waited until they were level with me then swung the stick like a baseball bat, catching the second burglar across the shoulders. The blow spun him around and right into the wall with a satisfyingly meaty thwack. I kicked the gun out of his hand. The other one, realizing something was wrong, started to turn. The stick caught him on his side and he folded over. I followed up with a sharp down stroke on the back of the head. He crumpled to the floor and lay still.

 

            I could hear sounds of fighting outside. Under any other circumstances I would be heading that way, but I needed to make sure the baby was safe. Someone was desperate to get their hands on her, and that was enough for me. I headed for the stairs.

 

            I heard the soft pop and felt the pain on my back at the same time. As my knees folded, suddenly too weak to hold me up, I could see the guy I had smashed into the wall coming towards me, gun in hand. I had forgotten rule number one: never leave an enemy behind you. I lay still, waiting, knowing I only had one chance.

 

            He leaned down to press the gun to the back of my head. When I thought he was off-balance, I heaved up, turning over and smashing the walking stick between his legs. He howled and went down on top of me.

 

            “Rhys! Rhys!” I could hear Thomas running down the corridor. “Jesus!” He pulled the burglar off me. “Are you all right?”

 

            I didn’t even dignify that with an answer. “Call.”

 

            “What?”

 

            I realized my voice was too weak and tried again. “Torchwood. Call Torchwood. Euan would know. Tell them Rhys says… there are weevils in the woods.”