Title: Captain James Harper (2/4)
Author: Emma
Characters: Canonical Torchwood Three members… sort of.
Rating: Some chapters definitely not safe for work.
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: The darkness gathers, but the team finds strength in each other...
Author’s Note: http://www.new-age.co.uk/welsh-burial-chambers.htm Tinkinswood and St.Lythans...

Part One is here 

They turned into St. Lythans Road at few minutes before noon. Like many of the smaller roads in the outskirts of Cardiff, it was a paved-over country lane that wound its way between recently harvested fields of wheat and potatoes, pastures for cows and sheep, even a vineyard. Old farmhouses with slate roofs and muddy paddocks stood cheek by jowl with modern cottages with impeccable gardens meant for the weekend crowd and long stretches of ash and oak spinney left over from the cutting down of the great Glamorgan forest.

 

 The field should be coming up soon.” Tosh kept her eyes on her netbook. “The energy fluctuations are getting more pronounced.”
 

“There used to be an inn right next to it.” Jack said. “If it's still there we can use their car park and then get a hot drink before starting back. How much time will you need?”
 

The day had turned bitterly cold, and clouds rolled in off the distant ocean. It would be pouring rain by nightfall. Jack had planned an evening in with Ianto, involving hot chocolate, buttered toast, a roaring fire, and an indecent amount of good sex, and he wasn't about to give up on it. Not without a fight.
 

“About an hour at the most,” Tosh answered. “Less if we get close.”
 

“Not too close,” Jack said. “It's not Samhain yet, but let's not take any chances.”
 

A thick stretch of wood gave way to a low stone fence. Behind it the ground sloped down gently to a three story whitewashed building with its upper stories framed in dark wood and ending in a steep slate roof. A large chimney at each end sent twin curls of smoke into the wet air. The lights were on, and through the many-paned windows they could see people sitting at tables and couches and waitresses in long skirts and caps handing out food and drink.
 

Jack turned the SUV into the small car park by the gate. “The field is behind those woods. There should be a trail from the side of the inn.”
 

He took Tosh's arm and they walked towards the gravel courtyard on the left of the building. As they reached the head of the trail leading into the woods, a small side door opened and an elderly man stepped out. He was nattily dressed in a style fifty years out of date, with a red cravat inside an open-necked blue shirt and a pinstriped suit. His hair was neatly combed straight back. To Jack he seemed at bit theatrical; someone dressed to play the role of the gay uncle in a drawing room farce.
 

“Hello. Welcome to the St. Lythans Hotel. I'm Bilis Manger, the proprietor.”
 

Jack shook the extended hand. “I'm Jack Harkness and this is my partner, Toshiko Sato.”
 

“It's a raw day to be outside. May I offer you the sanctuary of our Ritz Café? We make very good coffee and excellent French pastries.”
 

“That sounds lovely,” Tosh said. “Perhaps later, Jack? I’d like to get pictures of the tomb.” She smiled at Manger. “I am interested in Neolithic architecture.”
 

He smiled at her. “It is spectacular. Perhaps I'll see you later, then.”
 

They watched him walk back inside, then set off into the spinney. Under the trees it was cooler but drier; the thick canopy kept off the wind and rain. They could hear the rustlings of small animals in the undergrowth and birds in the branches. Once or twice Jack noticed Tosh making a small gesture towards a bush or a branch and wondered what it was like to move in a world where every creature was a possible friend and ally. Or enemy.
 

The trees ended abruptly at the edge of large field. In the middle of it four massive stones created the illusion of a doorless chamber. Jack's hackles rose and he found himself growling in the back of his throat.
 

“I don't think I should go any nearer, Tosh. There might be... uncomfortable interactions. I'll search the perimeter.”
 

“That's fine, Jack,” she answered absently as she entered commands into the notebook. “It'll only take me fifteen minutes or so.”
 

She walked up to the chamber's door. The closer she got the wilder the reading fluctuations became. At times she felt a breeze blowing past her that seemed to come from inside the chamber. Something seemed to insinuate itself into her consciousness, tangling her thoughts and making her eyelids flicker. She closed her eyes for a moment.
 

He was gaunt and bloodless, and his face was a noh mask rather than flesh. He reached for her with skeletal hands, skin shriveling from grasping, needy fingers. The strong, rumbling voice she remembered had changed into a thin wail that grated on her ears.
 

“My daughter. My daughter. I am sorry.”
 

“Father?”
 

“Please. I need you. I need your help.” His hands curled upwards, begging. “Need to explain. Need to talk. Please. Come closer. Listen.”
 

Anger left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. “You need me, father? Me? The talentless child? The eunuch?”
 

“Please. Please, don't. It hurts. Please come here. Help me. Please.”
 

She wanted to mock him, but couldn’t. She wanted to hate him, but couldn’t. Her foot shifted in order to take the first step, when a sharp pain jolted her into opening her eyes.

 

 

“Ow!”
 

Tosh looked down. Blood was running down into her shoe from a gash above her ankle. The small fox sat a few steps away, daintily cleaning her paw on the grass.
 

“What did you do that for?” She asked, pulling a tissue out of her bag and dabbing at the gash.
 

“You were listening to the One who Answers.” The fox retorted. “If you had taken the first step, we could not have pulled you back. Are man-kits not taught anything?”
 

“Not about this, obviously. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. One last thing I will say. Remember that the Hunters can cross what we cannot. Now, go join your skulk mate.”
 

With a last flick of the tail, the fox scampered away. Tosh looked around for Jack and found him looking at a stand of young oaks at the far end of the field. As she turned away from the stones, she thought she heard a snarl. She looked over her shoulder, but couldn’t see anything. She started to walk towards Jack, but again heard the same sound, only louder and in some strange way, more feral. Something about it scared her enough to make her run, gasping, until she crashed into Jack’s back, nearly sending them both to the ground.

 “Hey!” He wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”
 

“Tell you later. Let’s go get that drink, ok? I’m freezing cold.”

 

He nodded, but didn’t let go. Arms wrapped around each other's waists, they walked back to the hotel courtyard. When they came out of the spinney, they found that the wind had picked up and it was starting to rain. Jack pulled his coat over their heads as they made a dash for the front entrance. He shouldered the door open and they stepped into the lobby.
 

They looked around and then at each other in bewilderment. The place seemed deserted – no, it seemed abandoned. There was dust, cobwebs, and rat droppings everywhere. The floor had not seen either broom or hoover for what seemed like centuries. The furniture was worm-ridden and the drapes moldy. And yet, from behind a frosted glass door at the end of a corridor came the sound of laughter and clinking silverware.

 

“Out.” Jack said quietly. “Right now.”
 

They opened the door and stepped back out into the courtyard.

 

The building was surrounded by a thick wall of white that hid everything beyond the courtyard's paving stones. It was fog, yet thicker, shot through with random flashes of lightning, and it hummed with energy.
 

Jack gestured for Tosh to stay behind as he walked up to it. The moment he got close enough to touch it, the wall reacted. A bolt of lightning smashed into his chest and flung him back to land in a heap at Tosh's feet. She helped him up and slapped at his shoulders to douse the flames that had started to burn into his coat.
 

“Happens every time.”

 

They turned back towards the door. Tosh had to suppress the desire to whistle. he man standing in the doorway was slightly taller and bulkier than Jack, but he had the same physical presence, the same air of command. He wore what she thought was a WWII RAF uniform with the easy comfort of someone used to it.
 

“We have all tried. It doesn't kill us but it doesn't let us leave.” He held up a hand to show a thick scar running from the base of his thumb up into his sleeve. “For my troubles.”
 

Jack extended his hand. “I'm Jack Harkness, Group Captain.”
 

The other man took it. “James Harper. RAF. You seem to have done your bit.”
 

Jack smoothed down the coat. “We all did. This is my partner, Toshiko Sato.”
 

“Miss Sato.” He shook her hand. “Just from curiosity, Ma'am, what's your year?”
 

“Our year?”
 

“Outside, ma'am. What year do you two come from?”
 

She looked at Jack, who nodded. “Two thousand and seven.”
 

Captain Harper pointed at Jack's coat. “There must be story behind that.”
 

“There is. I'll tell you someday.” Jack grinned. “Where are we, Captain Harper?”
 

“I don't know. I was returning from a training flight when I hit what I thought was a cloud. Somehow all the air was gone, even the oxygen tank. I passed out. Next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the paving stones. And I've been here since.” He shrugged. “Not that I know how long that has been. It takes the sense of time away, this place. No night, no day. Just that.” He pointed overhead. The sky was an uniform pewter shade dotted with darker gray clouds. “You don't die, but you don't live either. This is all there is.”