Title: Evolution (18/20)

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…

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.

            In spite of being resigned to getting involved with Torchwood again, there were some experiences I would rather never have to repeat. Being driven by Jack was at the top of the list.

            Something about what Mike said had said pushed Jack into head of Torchwood mode. He brushed aside Thomas and Euan’s questions and swept Martha and Mike away to the study.  Ianto started making phone calls to every government and international agency that needed to be put on alert; from what I could hear, he was on a first-name basis with half the upper echelons of the military and political hierarchies of several countries and the United Nations.

            It was Hart who took over the explanations without being asked. He was good at mixing truth and… well, he never lied, he just avoided the truth and changed the subject. I noticed he skipped over the same things Jack would have; there was no mention of mad Archangels trying to rebuild interstellar empires. He concentrated on the use of alien DNA on human children and encouraged Thomas’s plans to convert part of the compound into temporary quarters for however many children we could rescue. There was an honesty in him that seemed very much at odds with the psychopath I knew him to be, and I began to understand some of the things Jack had told me out by the track.

            Jack and Martha came out of the study looking grim. After a quick whispered conference with Ianto, we split into two groups: Martha and I to the SUV with Jack, and Euan, John and Mike to one of the Woodstall estate cars with Ianto. As Jack had said, in Torchwood there are no coincidences; he wanted to talk to me about something.

            It was only curiosity that kept me from having a breakdown as Jack threw the SUV into a skid around a downward curve. Finally, after another terror-filled fifteen minutes I decided to push back.

            “So, Jack, are you going to say something or are you hoping I’ll die of a heart attack and save you the effort?”

            “Can you use a gun these days?”

            “Hunting gun. I need to use it once in a while out here.”

           
            “That’ll do. I’m going to need you to protect Mike. Until the drugs wash out of his system his reactions are going to be unpredictable.”

            “All right.”

            He was quiet for a long time. I waited. There are some horses – and some people – that can’t be led or pushed. They can only be waited out.

            “It’s what Mike said about befriending the weevil. It tells us someone has taken creatures the equivalent of chimpanzees and made them intelligent enough to have conversations and form friendships with someone not of their group in about twenty-five years. When I get my hands on the bastards they’re going to wish they had died with their precious empire.”

            “But isn’t it a good thing in a way? Weevils are savage even to each other. Maybe a little intelligence would help with that.”

            “It doesn’t work that way, Rhys,” Martha said, laying a hand on Jack’s shoulder to forestall the coming tirade. “Intelligence is not enough to override instinct or even cultural conditioning. Homo sapiens have been around over one hundred and fifty thousand years and have millennia of moral and ethical development and we still fall flat on our bums about half the time. The people experimenting with the weevils have crammed all those millennia into twenty-five years. We think that to do that they concentrated on brain evolution to the exclusion of everything else.  The weevils I autopsied had massively accelerated metabolisms, drastically reduced lifespan, and an autonomous nervous system so screwed up I don’t think there’s a medical term for it. The only thing I can tell you for sure is that these poor kids were in pain from the day they were born to the day they died.”

            I mulled over what Martha had said. “Jack, about those bastards… once we find them, I'll  hold them down for you, yeah?”

            “It’s a deal.”

            We drove the rest of the way in silence. The clinic was just outside Carmarthen, but distant enough to avoid crowding by the new suburbs and the industrial estates. It looked more like someone’s dream home rather than a medical facility. Even the stone walls with its ornate iron gates seemed meant more for privacy than security.

            “Here,” Jack handed me an earpiece. “It’ll connect you to our internal comm. One tap to activate, two to deactivate, press and hold to talk, three fast taps to shout for help. We’ll arrange for an implant later.”

            I popped it into my ear, tabling the discussion about implants until later. I tapped it once and a few seconds later I was listening to Toshiko’s voice.

            “…shows no signs of movement anywhere. There are four heat signatures inside, but they are stationary. The satellite visuals show nine cars in the parking area and what looks like several people sitting around a table, but no heat signatures. Something is really wrong, Jack.”

            “Can you open the gates for us?”

            “Please. I’ve taken control of the security system. The gates will open as you drive up.”

            We didn’t even slow down as we swept through the open gates and past a very formal rose garden to the parking area. Toshiko had been right. Several people were sitting around a table covered with the remains of lunch. Two of them wore uniforms, but neither one looked in our direction as we screeched to a halt in the gravel lot, sending up a fine mist of sand and rock.

            “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

            “Yes. Martha…” She was already out of the SUV and moving towards the table. John jumped out of the back seat of the estate car and chased after her. I started to follow, but Jack pulled me back.

            “”He’ll handle whatever backup she needs. Come on.”

            He opened the back of the SUV and lifted a false floor. Underneath was a bloody armoury. He pulled out something that resembled either a shortened rifle or a pistol with a very long barrel.

            “Here. With this switch in this position it works like a regular rifle. Flick it and it will fire as fast as you can pull the trigger. There’s two hundred and fifty bullets in that thing. Make them count.” He pointed. “You have your assignment.”

            I trotted over to where Mike sat in the back of the estate car. He was pale and shaking. He looked up at me.

            “I don’t like it here.”

            “Neither do I, mate.  But we won’t let anyone hurt you again, Mike. The needles and all that stuff, it’s over.”

            “Promise?”

            “Promise.”