Title: As Dreams are Made On (2/4)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Andy Davidson, Toshiko Sato, 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: Andy Davidson’s first Torchwood case…

Author’s Note: Andy’s Dad’s motorcycle http://motorbike-search-engine.co.uk/classic_bikes/1957_ducati_175t.jpg

Cor Tewdws http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cor_Tewdws

            Jack gave me his address. I remembered the place as soon as I wrote it down. Big place in Pontcanna with a nice garden right on the Taff.  My parents used to take us there, the whole lot of us, including third cousins, on hot summer nights. There was a little dock and we would swim while the adults grilled sausages. Jack would make these big pitchers of orange juice with grenadine syrup – just like the ones the adults were drinking – and we thought we were so grown up. Took me ten years to realize we weren’t getting the tequila!

            I had borrowed my Tad’s old Ducati, so it wasn’t long before I was sweeping through the big iron gates of Jack’s property. Nothing much had changed. The big oak tree still shaded half the lawn and flower beds flanked the drive. The house still looked like a castle, even to my adult eyes, with the tower at one end at the door shaded by a porch supported by columns with capitals carved with dragons and red campion.

            Jack must have heard the bike, because the door opened before I had a chance to knock. I started to look up automatically and was actually startled to see my head reached his chin. He must have noticed the gobsmacked look on my face because he grinned.

            “Little Andy’s all grown up. Come in.”

            He led the way to the study, which I remembered mainly because we hadn’t been allowed to go in, so we were always trying to sneak a peek. We were convinced there was some deep dark secret about Jack’s study. Once I had managed to get as far as opening the door and sticking my head in, but all I had seen were bookshelves and a desk the size of a small boat. The bookshelves and desk were still there, but this time I was able to see into the niche caused by the curve of the ornamental tower. It was filled by a large glass-fronted curio cabinet, its shelves displaying some of the most beautiful objects I had ever seen.

            The smell nearly knocked me on my arse.

            Jack got to me before I could collapse. He guided me to an armchair and looked down at me with worried eyes. “What’s going on, Andy?”

            I took a deep breath and tried not to sound like a total loony. “Before you call my Tad to have me sectioned, can I ask you something?”

            The look he gave me made me realize that I hadn’t quite managed the sanity I’d been aiming for. “Go ahead. Ask.”

            “Is there… do you know of anyone… who could… smell magic? I know it sounds crazy, but…”

            “Yes.”

            My mouth fell open. I must have looked a right berk.

            “You think you might be?”

            “That’s what I was coming to see you about. Well, part of it, anyway.”

            He sat on the armchair opposite mine. “Go ahead.”

            So I told him everything that had happened earlier. He listened like he really wanted to know. I’m sure you’ve all experienced it, that total concentration that makes you think you’re the only thing in the world that holds his interest. It’s all a load of bollocks, of course, but I’ve seen grown men spill state secrets when he does it.

            After I finished, he looked at me for a second or two. “Can you smell anything now?”

            “No offense, Jack, but this place reeks.” He nodded towards the curio cabinet. “That thing... are all of those magic objects?”

            He went to the curio cabinet and took out a battered silver circlet. He handed it to me. “Let’s see what you can make out of this.”

            I looked it over. It had been etched with a simple triple spiral pattern. Three pigeon’s blood rubies had been mounted on it so that the larger one would sit in the middle of the forehead and the other two at the temples. The smell was faint, but there was no mistaking it. “Horses… blood… something musky, but not like fur… steel… shit. What is this thing, Jack?”

            “The battle crown of Uthyr Pendraeg.”

            “But… it had to have gone to his…”

            “Yes. After Brwydr Camlan, it was taken north for protection.”

            I turned it over in my hands. One of the greatest treasures of Wales and it smelled of horses, blood, and shit. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me; those were plentiful things in battle in those days.

            “What does this mean, Jack?”

            “It means no University, kiddo. It’s Cor Tewdws and Sensitives’ training for you.” He took the crown and replaced it in the cabinet. “There are maybe a dozen people in all of Europe with this talent, and for most it seems to be hit and miss. You can already distance yourself from the reek and identify its components. And that’s without training. If you make it through the course, you’ll have your pick of employers.”

            “I’m Torchwood,” I said, not even thinking about it, but it had the ring of truth to it. “Besides, it’s not as if I need the money.”

            “No, I suppose not.”

            “All right, then. As soon as I find out what happened to Eugene, I’ll present myself at Lanilltud Fawr.”

            “It’s important to you.”

            “Yeah. He was a dreamer, Jack. A little nobody who wanted a better life for his family. He got in over his head, or somebody pushed him in. And that’s not acceptable.”

            I think Jack was a little amused at my righteous speech…. Impressed? Come on, Jack. I sounded like the hero in a bad epic. All I can say in my defence is that Torchwood hadn’t kicked my illusions out of me yet. Anyway, he was nice enough not to laugh at me.

            “What do you know about Eugene?”

            “He worked at the big technofiction bookstore in Mermaid Quay. On weekends he went to car boot sales and footie matches with mates. And he dreamed of magic.”

            “Did he have any?”

            “No. The whole family tested null.  Well, Branwen has flashes of intuition that are higher than normal, but it all ties in to her work. Will make her very successful in her career, I should think. Eugene didn’t even have that. His outlet was to collect magic objects and dream of finding the one prize that would make his fortune.”

            “And maybe he found it.”

            “If the silver apple is any evidence, he certainly found something.”

            “All right. Take the lead on this.”

            I nearly got a bruise from my jaw hitting the floor. “Me?”

            “Somebody has to and we are rather short-staffed at the moment.” He said with a grimace. “Consider it your audition.”

            “Ta ever so much, uncle Jack.” I snarked at him.

            “Go on with you, youngster.” He grinned. “Keep me informed. Where are you going first?”

            “The bookstore, I think. No, don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.”  Suddenly, a childhood memory returned and I turned back to Jack. “I hear the latest volume of the adventures of John Smith was just published. Want me to pick you up a copy?”

            “Brat. I am on standing order with Waterstones for that particular series.”