Title: Captain James Harper (3/4)
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...

Author's Note: I'm sorry this is taking so long but to tell the truth I'm a little scared of screwing this one up!

Part One is here; Part Two is here

“Ianto!”

Owen’s shout made Gwen look up in time to see Ianto crumple to the floor. Ever since Rhys had arrived in the Hub, she had been sitting on his lap in the ratty old sofa, his big arms wrapped around her, her head tucked securely in the space between his neck and shoulder. She had laughed at his startled what the fuck? when he had first spotted Myfanwy, and nearly cried when she felt his hands stroking up and down her spine. Ianto had put coffee mugs on the table in front of them and told them to stay put until Jack returned or someone had to visit the facilities, whichever came first. Then he had ducked her swat and walked away, snickering.

She jumped up and ran to him, Rhys close behind. Owen was already there, hands moving fast as he scanned Ianto's body.

“He's clammy,” he told Gwen. “I would say shock, but that the way his eyelids are flickering makes me think he's having a precognitive incident. Except that he's not any sort of clairvoyant. Hold on to him, will you? Sometimes people in this condition will start to convulse.”

Gwen grabbed Ianto's hands. “Ianto? Sweetheart? Please come back to us.” She felt Rhys kneel behind her and place his hands over hers. “Ianto?”

His eyes flickered even faster then suddenly he opened them. For a second or two they were solid blue, with no white showing; then, just as suddenly, they were normal again. He took a deep breath and started to sit up.

“No, Owen, don't fuss. I'm fine. Gwen, let go of my hands, I'm going to need them. Rhys, someone fouled your testing. We'll need to send you to the Episcopal Board as soon as it may be, but not today. We're going to need you here.”

“Ianto!” Owen shook him slightly. “Slow down. What's going on?”

“Something has taken Jack.”

The words, delivered in Ianto's calmest tone, sent a burst of terror through Gwen. “What do you mean, gone?”

“He's no longer of this side of the Wall.” Ianto scrambled to his feet and helped Gwen up. “No, Gwen, don't panic, he's alive. We'll get him back. Owen...”

“How do you know?” Rhys broke in. “That he's alive, I mean?”

Ianto rubbed his chest. “I know. Owen, call Andy. He and Rhys can help you hold the fort while Gwen and I go out to St. Lythans.”

“You think something's going to happen while Jack is... gone?” Gwen asked.

“Can you think of any other reason to remove him? All those people who have been telling us about the coming darkness... we thought it was coming for Jack. A personal thing, because of his father. But what if it's coming for everyone? For the earth itself?”

Gwen shivered. “Jack could be our first and last line of defense.”

“Yeah. Rhys, you can use a computer.” Ianto pushed Rhys into Tosh's chair. “I'm going to start a program running.” He tapped out a sequence of commands. “See these numbers here? Keep an eye on them. If you see them start to fluctuate, Owen will need to know. If this top number here goes past +5 you hit this button right here.”

“What is it doing?” Rhys asked, nearly pressing his nose to the screen as he tried to read the numbers flashing by.

“It's monitoring Rift openings. Fluctuations means the openings are getting bigger and unstable. Plus five means all Hell is breaking loose. Literally. The button is a... desperate move. Don’t think about it, don’t second guess. Hit it.”

Rhys swallowed hard. “All right.”

“Andy's on his way.” Owen ended his call. “He says to do a quick search into the files before you go anywhere. One of his Tad’s earliest cases had to do with St. Lythans. He remembers his Tad being spooked by it.”

Ianto moved to his own terminal. “Here we go. Davidson, field reports. St. Lythans… here it is. A couple was seen wandering around St. Lythans’ Road, wearing what looked like Victorian clothes. Several people spoke to them. They seemed confused about where they were and what was happening but did give their names as Doctor and Mrs. Harlan Macris. Someone sent for the police, but by the time they got there the Macrises had disappeared. A local farmer and his wife reported seeing them going into the grounds of the St. Lythans’ Hotel and talking to the proprietor. And that’s it. It was a low-priority thing so when the police filed a report with us, it got handed to the junior staff. Davidson did manage to get a picture. It seems the farmer’s son had gotten a camera for Christmas.”

The photo showed three people standing in front of the St. Lythans’ Hotel. The Macrises were clearly wearing the epitome of Victorian elegance. The other, a slender, elderly man, wore a smoking jacket with a red cravat. “The third man was identified as Bilis Manger, the manager of the St. Lythans.”

Gwen leaned in over his shoulder. “Ianto, can you enlarge that window in the hotel? The right-hand one, yeah. There’s someone standing there.”

Ianto zoomed in. The window was open. A woman was leaning out slightly, arm extended as if to wave at passersby. As the magnification increased even more and the face became clear, Gwen gasped and Owen swore.

It was Toshiko.


They followed James Harper back into the hotel and into the cafe in the back. Jack was surprised to find a real fin de siecle room, with gilded mosaic walls, plush red banquettes against the walls and ironwork tables and chairs in the center. An exquisite bar ran the length of the back wall. There was no bartender or waiters; food and drink appeared at random intervals, and dirty plates and glasses disappeared, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't see the exact moment it happened. The guests – as they called themselves for lack of a better word – ranged from an upper-crust Victorian couple to a Roman legionnaire.

“James was right,” Jack sat down next to Tosh, who was occupying one of the banquettes, netbook on the table in front of her. “Nobody I spoke to remembers how long they have been here.”

“Same here,” Tosh said, “but I did get an interesting bit of information from Mrs. Macris. She and her husband were walking in the garden one day and suddenly they found themselves in a road full of terrible horseless carriages. The people who spoke to them sounded odd, threatening. They were terrified and fled back into the grounds, but they couldn't find their way to the hotel itself until Mr. Manger arrived to take them back.”

“And that tells you something?”

“It tells me that Manger shuts down whatever it is that's holding us in when he needs to get in and out to the real world. And that means...”

“It's mechanical, not magical.”

“More like a combination of both. There are several possibilities, but they depend on Manger's level of Talent. Whichever it ends up being, it needs some sort of energy wave generator.” She patted the netbook. “And that can be detected by my baby here. I'm going for a walk.”

Tosh grabbed her purse and stood up. Jack held her wrist for a second; she smiled down at him and nodded. He watched her leave. She stopped once or twice to speak to one of the other women. Mrs. Macris laughed and pointed. Tosh made a gesture and dashed out, looking exactly like a desperate woman who had finally figured out where the ladies' facilities were.

“She is quite beautiful.” Captain Harper slid into the seat Toshiko had vacated. “Is she your woman?”

“No.”

“There's no one special, then?”

“Yes. There is.” Jack smiled at him. “But he doesn't expect me to be blind.”

“I wish to God I could say the same. But in my time...” The Captain tossed back his drink. “It wasn't a cloud I hit, was it? My plane crashed.”

Jack took the Captain's hand in his and twinned their fingers. “I think so, yes.”

“And I never even got to...” He tightened his grip. “It was too dangerous, you see.”

“I know.” Jack lifted their joined hands to his lips. “I'll make you a promise. Before it's all over, you will.”

“What is his name?”

“Ianto.”

“You're a lucky man, Jack.”

“I know.”


Tosh stared at the readout. She had followed the netbook's signal upstairs and to the small room at the end of the corridor. It was the most impersonal room Tosh had ever seen. A desk and two chairs sat in one corner; a cot covered with a white sheet and a thin white blanket, a bedside table and a small lamp in the other. There were no photos, paintings, or curtains. Not even an alarm clock, and Tosh didn't think anyone could live without one of those. A thin coat of dust covered everything.

She turned in a big circle, holding the netbook balanced on the palm of her hand. As she swept by the window it emitted a loud series of beeps. She repeated the movement and it happened again.

She crouched down to examine the floor below the window. Four small impressions in the dust showed something had sat there very recently. The window frame had two deep indentations where clamps had been applied to the wood.

She opened the window. Even from this height, she could not see over the wall of fog that surrounded the St Lythans. She looked up. The sky remained a flat dirty gray sheet with a few darker spots where clouds should have been. A lone falcon hovered above, riding the thermals with its wings spread wide.

Suddenly she remembered what the kitsune had said: the Hunters can cross what we cannot. Peregrines were notoriously bad tempered loners; she didn't know whether she could even attract its attention. But with the energy wave generator gone, it might be the only chance she and Jack would have.

Rummaging in her purse she found some paper, but no pencil or pen. The desk's drawers were empty except for a small letter opener. She considered her options and then, before she could think about it, she stabbed the opener into the pad at the base of her left thumb. Blood swelled immediately. She dipped her right index nail in it and scribbled her message. She blew on it to dry, then rolled it tightly.

She ran back to the window and looked up, concentrating. It was slow work; the peregrine's mind was full of the thrill of the wind and the hunt. She pushed harder, relentlessly. Finally, he plummeted towards her with a shrill cry, to come rest on her arm.

What do you want, female?

To ask your help. Please. The one who lords over this place keeps us prisoner. We cannot feel the wind. We cannot hunt.

That is an evil deed, but what can I do about it?

You can take a message to my cast that they might come to my aid.

That I will do. It closed its claws firmly around the small roll of paper. How shall I know them?

She showed him images of Ianto, Gwen, Andy, and Owen. Any of them.

I will seek, then.

Tosh leaned out of the window, holding her arm out stiffly to allow the take off, and then watched the falcon fly upwards until he disappeared into the sourceless gray.