Title: Evolution (8/?)
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 ; Part three is here ; Part four is here ; Part five is here ; Part six is here ; Part seven is here

            We found everyone sitting around Woodstall’s unofficial conference table – the oak-plank kitchen monster that could probably sit twelve at a pinch. The sight of Jack Harkness calmly bottle feeding a baby while being fed a sandwich by his partner made my eyes sting. It was so much what I had wanted with Gwen; simple domesticity without aliens, or explosions, or scientists straight out of a bad horror movie running around creating mix-and-match races. As our eyes met damn if he didn’t know exactly what I was thinking and his own eyes blinked rapidly before looking away.

 

            Part of me wanted to resent him for having what I had lost, but what would have been the use? Torchwood could take everything away from him; from what Gwen had told me, it already had, more than once. Let the poor bastard be happy. He probably deserved it six times over.

 

            They had left two chairs for us between Jack and Euan. I noticed Euan had already ushered Martha to the one next to him. I looked forward to his reaction when he found out that the lovely doctor was well and truly vaccinated against flirting by years of exposure to Captain Jack Harkness. I grabbed a scone and poured myself a fresh cup of coffee from the laden sideboard and plunked myself down next to Jack.

 

            “Give her over,” I said as he put down the bottle.

 

            “She needs to be burped.”

 

            “No. Really? And me with all those sisters-in-law, and cousins, and friends popping them out like rabbits and I wouldn’t know that.” I put a kitchen towel over my shoulder. “Give me my niece.”

 

            He passed her over without comment. I propped her on my shoulder and rubbed her back. “Hi there, Rosie. You and I, we’re going to have fun. I’m going to teach you to ride horses, and take you hill climbing, and lend you a shoulder to cry on… that’s it, cariad, let it all out… when your mean old tads are being too strict about staying out late. And I’ll take you to Ascot, and Longchamps, and the Kentucky Derby, and I’ll teach you how to bet properly so you can pay your own way through uni.”

 

            The sudden silence made me look up from Rosie’s blissful face. Everyone was staring at me. Andy was openly smirking.

 

            “What? I would do the same for all my nieces and nephews.”

 

            “We’ll hold you to that,” Jack said. “Euan, did your people find anything?”

 

            “Other than Mrs. Jones seeing the van? Not really. A couple of reports of sheep missing, but that’s not unusual around here. No strangers around. The only non-local is old Mr. McKenzie and he’s been visiting every year for the past twenty.”

 

            “Who is he?” Ianto asked.

 

            “Retired professor. From Aberdeen. Mushroom expert. Like I said, he’s been around since I was twelve or so.”

 

            “All right. We still have the question of who brought the baby here and how Ollie was involved.”

 

            “Tons of dirt roads and hill trails around here. Anyone could have just walked. The second part’s more difficult. Ollie was as honest as the day. He wouldn’t get involved in anything wrong.”

 

            A small movement from Thomas caught my attention. Where Euan tended to spill outwards, Thomas was a quiet man who did his thinking behind a blank face. Over the years, I had learned to read the signs.

 

            “Thomas?” I said as neutrally as possible.

 

            He started to drum on the table then caught himself and pulled his hand down to his lap. “Do you trust these people to tell us the truth, Rhys?”

 

            I heard Ianto’s soft whuff of breath. “I don’t think that’s the right question, Thomas. Do I trust them to always tell me the truth? No. I do trust them with my life. What they do, Thomas… They protect us from things that scare me stupid, and they do it because they think it’s the right thing to do. So if you know anything, please tell them. It could be the most important thing you do in your whole life.”

 

            He kept silent for a few more minutes, then stood up and walked out of the room. I looked at Euan, who shook his head. A few minutes later, Thomas walked back into the kitchen. He was carrying a small bag made out of a shiny fabric.

 

            “Rosie is not the first baby left at Woodstall.” He started before he even sat down. “Twenty-five years ago, our Mum found a woman in the woods. She had been beaten horribly. She was a foreigner, Mum said she couldn’t understand English nor Welsh. She had the baby with her, and this small bag. She thrust both of them at Mum. Mum said it was like she was begging her to keep the baby safe. The woman died and Mum brought the baby home.”

 

            He took a deep swallow of his coffee. “You have to understand, Mum was going to call the police. But… well, at the time, the local constable was…”

 

            “A jackass,” supplied Euan. “A little toad with ambitions. People gave him a wide berth and handled things themselves when they had to.”

 

            “Yeah. Anyway. When Mum got home, Tad told her there had been a plane crash over St. David’s way. Three people dead. Mum told him about the baby, and how the woman had to have been in the plane. They looked in the bag, and, well… what they saw… they decided not to call the police. Mrs. Jones’s daughter, Annie, had had a still birth a few days before and was in a bad way. She had been widowed a few months before and losing the baby nearly drove her mad. They took the baby to her. Mum said it was like the good Lord had intended it, because she took that baby in her arms and never looked back.”

 

            “Ollie?” Andy asked.

 

            Thomas shook his head. “No. Ollie’s brother Mike. Mike Greene.”

 

            “How come I didn’t know this?” Euan said.

 

            “Because Mum and Tad kept it a secret. Tad only told me right before he died. Because of the bag.”

 

            “Is this Mike Greene still around here?” Jack asked.

 

            “Yeah. “ I answered.” He’s a groom, works with our best horse. But he’s away. He goes on holiday in the spring. Every year.”

 

            Jack reached for the bag, studying it thoughtfully. There were no zippers or ties. It was made of a light material that wasn’t either leather or silk but looked a bit like both.

 

            “Mum said it was open when the woman gave it to her but once she closed it she couldn’t figure out a way to open it again.”

 

            “No. No, she wouldn’t have.” Jack had gone pale and tight-lipped. He ran his fingers down the side of the bag until he found something and pressed. “Here.”

 

            The bag opened. Inside there was a small pouch, a handful of round metal chips, and a baby blanket, red with whipcord stitching around the hem and some embroidery in one corner. Jack picked up the pouch and spilled the contents in his hand. The diamonds winked merrily.

 

            “Bloody hell,” whispered Euan.

 

            “Mum and Dad were keeping it for Mike when he turned thirty. Tad said it was about the right time, when men really starting thinking with their heads and not with… well.”

 

            Ianto ignored the diamonds and picked up the metal chips. “Memory?”

 

            “Yeah.’ Jack said. “We’ll need to get it to Tosh. Thomas, I’m sorry, but I’m going to need to borrow Rhys for a few days.”