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"How long will that thing hold?" Jack asked, stepping back and considering his handiwork. The jury-rigged containment cell was far from ideal, but he'd done the best he could, considering.
The cell's occupant -- which appeared to them as nothing more than a swirling grey field of energy -- seemed far from happy, dashing itself repeatedly against the force field, testing its weaknesses. The alien -- or whatever it was -- was both strong and destructive. It had turned up out of nowhere off the coast, swallowing small craft in whirlpools and sudden, devastating waves.
Ianto considered the calculations he'd been performing on his clipboard. "A week, maybe ten days?" he ventured. "It's taking an awful lot of power to keep the force field at this strength, but it should hold."
Jack nodded as he started back upstairs. They'd only just barely managed to capture the thing in the portable cell, but it quickly became clear that the device lacked the power to contain the being for long. Scrounging from their slush pile of alien tech, Jack had put his somewhat rusty engineering skills to use, creating a rudimentary three-point force field down in the vaults. He'd seen a girl on Delta Cyg IV rig something similar once, and he borrowed from her design as best he could. It had taken her less time, but then again, she'd had four hands. Four very soft, clever hands.
Anyway, he hoped it would hold the thing long enough for them to figure out what the creature was and how to contain it long term.
"Toshiko," he called as he approached her station. Owen and Gwen were hovering right behind. "What d'we know?"
"You aren't going to believe this," she said, a quiver of excitement in her voice. "The readings I'm getting are a match for a forty-year old file from Torchwood One. It's Pandora!"
"Pandora?" Owen asked. "Isn't she a porn star?"
Three pairs of eyes rolled collectively. "Pandora, as in Pandora's box?" Gwen asked.
"That's what I meant! Isn't she a--"
"Shut up, Owen," Gwen and Tosh said, practically in unison.
"Wow, do you gals sing harmony, too?" Jack asked absently. He studied Tosh's screen intently. "Yeah," he said. "Pandora like Pandora's box. This creature was in an actual box that slipped through the rift, probably thousands of years ago. According to legend, it was fine as long as it was in the box. Once it got out, it became incredibly destructive, mostly at sea, all over the world. It's thought to be the source of the Scylla myth, the Bermuda Triangle, and a lot of local legends about scary things in the water."
Ianto walked by with a tray of mugs. "Thanks, Ianto," Jack said as he took his. "It was captured back in the 1960s by Torchwood One. They even managed to find the box -- it was sitting in the British Museum. Anyway, the creature was fine there, perfectly calm. Didn't seem to need anything."
Gwen sounded perturbed. "So they just left it there? In a box, on a shelf or something? A living creature?"
He shrugged. "What else was there to do? It was either that or try to destroy it. It's not like they knew where it came from, or how to get it back there." He thought a moment. "I think I remember reading a report theorizing that it inhabited a microuniverse or something inside the box." He shrugged again.
"So what happened?" Owen asked.
Jack paused, pretending to study the computer screen intently until Ianto had finished handing around coffee mugs and was headed for the galley, out of earshot. "The Cybermen and Daleks happened. Most of what was stored in London was damaged or destroyed. The box was lost in the disaster, and apparently the creature got out. We knew it was missing, but nothing else, until we got the reports of whirlpools and massive waves in the Irish Sea."
"What d'we do with it, then?" Gwen asked.
"When it's out of the box, it's a threat. When it's in the box, it's not. So there are two options," he said. "We either find the box before that containment field downstairs fails, or we try to destroy it."
"Jack--" Gwen began.
"I know, Gwen," he shushed her. "We don't know how to destroy it anyway, and experiments like that are often messy." He ignored her steady glare. "First, we try to find the box. Tosh."
"Well," Tosh said, "the box was tested extensively and found to be unique, not quite like anything native to Earth. It looks like brass--" she gestured to an image on her screen, "but it's not. It contains a isotope signature that Vicki should be able to scan for."
"Vicki?" Gwen looked almost afraid to ask.
"Torchwood's satellite," Tosh told her.
"You can look anywhere? In the world?" Gwen, it seemed, was still not quite used to just what Torchwood could do. And she still had that "you" thing going on.
"Yup," Jack answered. "We can. Let's retask Vicki, then--"
"Vicki? It's named after--"
"Already done," Tosh smiled up at him.
He grinned back at her. Of course it was. "Then let's get back to work while Vicki tells us where we can find ET's tiny little home."
~~~~~
It didn't take all that long; the alien hardware and software loaded onto Vicki were fast and precise. The satellite started with the UK -- deemed to be the most likely place they'd find the box -- and moved west, against the rotation of the earth, in a precise pattern. Tosh told it to skip the oceans for now, which narrowed down the search parameters considerably, and less than three hours later, the alert on her computer sounded.
"Jack, you aren't going to believe this," she called out to him, bemused.
"Really? Because I can believe an awful lot," he said, coming around behind her chair.
"I thought we'd find it on the continent somewhere, on the next pass--"
"Tosh," he said, a tad impatient. "Big bad creature of myth's in a cell that isn't going to hold for too long."
"Sorry." She smiled. "Vicki found the box. It's in Pittsburgh."
"Pittsburgh," Jack repeated flatly. "What the hell?"
"Yes," she said, "I'm quite sure." She poked about her keyboard for a few moments. "Vicki nailed it to within a five meter radius. I have an address...."
He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Okay...Pittsburgh. Hit me."
"It's apparently in a flat belonging to a...Brian Kinney." She rattled off the address.
Gwen and Owen had wandered over when they saw Jack hovering behind Tosh's station, and he gestured Ianto over. "Okay, we're gonna need a profile on Brian Kinney of...Pittsburgh." It couldn't have been Paris or Florence or something? "Tosh, basic background, criminal record, financials. Gwen, whatever you can find in the way of social history. Owen, medical and psych. Ianto, computer intercept. Clock's ticking, people."
~~~~~
Jack had preliminary reports on his desk three hours later, and after a quick scan through them, he chuckled to himself. By all rights, Brian Kinney should have been some geriatric antique collector, but it seemed that ET's box was sitting in the flat of the very appealing, thirtyish Brian Kinney, Pittsburgh's easiest fuck. If you liked men, that is -- and were hot enough to catch his eye.
Kinney's social history had, no doubt, made Gwen blush from the roots of her hair down to her toes. There was a pile of clippings, mostly from Pittsburgh's gay press, recounting his exploits in some detail. Ianto's intercept had provided a list of web sites and a stack of emails that left little doubt as to Kinney's tastes. He seemed to like them young, though, and Jack had a moment's doubt as to whether he was Kinney's type. He glanced up, looking around the hub. Who else was he going to send? Owen? Not likely. Ianto -- he could pull off the undercover, but -- no. Most definitely no.
Nope, there was nobody else. He wasn't that much older than Kinney -- well, his body had stopped aging when he wasn't much older, to be precise. Besides, a little of the right attitude could go a long way. And truth be told -- it had been a long time since Jack had tricked his way into someone's bed with the intent of stealing from them afterward. Of course, he'd almost been caught one of the last times he'd done it. He'd had to talk his way out of a well-guarded Delphinian holding facility. Okay, perhaps not talk, exactly....
He smiled and picked up the phone. "Ianto," he said. "I need a seat on the next flight to Pittsburgh."
He glanced down at Kinney's photo again, smiling to himself. Sometimes, the universe had a sense of humor.
~~~~~
Twenty-four hours later, Jack was sitting in what was -- according to credit card statements -- Brian Kinney's favorite Liberty Avenue club. He'd given himself exactly one night to pull off an "invitation" to Kinney's apartment. If it didn't happen tonight, tomorrow he'd have to attempt a straightforward burglary, and he'd rather not, if he didn't have to.
Fifty years ago, it would have been simple. But Tosh couldn't provide him real-time support back in Cardiff, and even if she could use a relay on Vicki to disable alarms and CCTV, there was still a decent chance he wouldn't be able to avoid the electronics completely. Security being what it was these days, he hadn't been able to bring any alien tech with him on the commercial flight. The only helpful items he'd brought were a couple of syringes and a vial of Retcon (labeled "insulin," and backed up by a doctor's prescription, naturally).
Well, that, and his charm, of course. But even that would have to be measured. According to Owen's (fairly sarcastic) psych profile, Kinney was "obviously an alpha male." He liked to be the hunter, not the prey, which required a few adjustments on Jack's part.
It had been very different when he lived (mostly) in his own time, but ever since he'd slipped back to twentieth century Earth, he'd spent most of his time being the hunter. Women mostly still expected it, although a few had surprised him from time to time. That TWA stewardess back in 1962 had been the most demure thing he could imagine until they'd fallen into bed, but then...well, he'd met Denebian vampires with less of a predatory instinct. He remembered that weekend fondly, even if the rope burns had hurt like hell for days afterward.
Even with other men, he was usually the hunter, not the prey, even when he didn't intend to be. He was never quite sure why. Maybe it was just a byproduct of being from a time when anyone who was available, regardless of gender or species, was, well, available. Words like "homosexual" and "bisexual" were as arcane as "verily" and "forsooth" were in this era. The idea of going to a club where he could expect to meet men and only men still struck him as odd, even after all this time. Yet here he was.
He shifted on his barstool a bit, settling into the feel of new clothes, hurriedly purchased before his departure. The brushed silk shirt -- a rich, cobalt blue (which the salesgirl had, of course, assured him was the new black) -- was a departure from his comfortable working clothes, but he decided he liked it. Soft, but not shiny; more appropriate for a club than cotton or linen, but still masculine and low-key. The shirt was tucked into soft black dress trousers, and in place of his coat he was wearing a vintage leather jacket.
Jack drank scotch, keeping an eye out for Kinney. It was early and a weeknight, so the club wasn't empty, but it wasn't crowded. It should be easy enough to spot him from the photo Jack had memorized. And according to his credit card statements, Kinney was quite likely to be in here on a weeknight. So he waited, enjoying the atmosphere. The music was pounding and there were go-go boys in cages, so what was not to like? The local color was mostly young and awfully pretty.
Jack glanced down the bar a bit, overhearing as two of the young and pretties engaged in deep conversation on the topic of whether Pittsburgh was properly considered the Venice or the San Francisco of the eastern United States. The argument descended into name-calling, ending with "Bitch, California sucks!" quickly rejoined with "Well, Venice stinks!" before the two stomped away from each other in a huff.
Jack chuckled to himself. Those two reminded him of a couple of disco boys he'd met on an Arcturian space station in 2744. That night had been a disaster. Fun, but a disaster. His favorite shirt had never been quite the same.
The memory, fond as it was, quickly receded as he got his first look at Brian Kinney. Dressed casually in black jeans and a grey t-shirt, he approached the bar with the confident air of long familiarity.
Photos, Jack decided, didn't do Kinney justice -- lovely cheekbones, beautiful eyes, and a rich, full mouth. He practically radiated charisma and sexual energy. Oh, yes, very definitely the alpha male. Jack consciously pulled himself inward, relying on skills picked up during his long years in the con game, trying to avoid putting out any of that alpha male energy himself.
It didn't take long before Kinney noticed him and caught his eye. Jack gave what he hoped was an unprepossessing smile, then dropped his gaze -- prey, not predator, he reminded himself. Yet he felt Kinney's eyes still on him, and it took Jack some effort not to meet his gaze again.
He was so studiously avoiding eye contact that he didn't notice Kinney approach. "You're hot, and I don't know you, so you must be new here," he said without preface.
Jack turned to the man standing beside him, who was giving him a rather thorough once over, the way a chef might inspect a side of beef. He couldn't help but grin at Kinney's sly smile, acknowledging the compliment. "Visiting, actually," he said, deciding not to offer his name just yet, to let the other man take the lead in that respect, too.
"Ah, that explains it," Kinney replied. His looks had been impressive from across the bar, but he was even better looking close up. "Welcome to Pittsburgh, such as it is. Brian," he offered.
"Jack," he answered.
"It's nice to meet you, Jack," he said. "Do you dance?"
There was more than a hint of innuendo in his voice, and Jack replied accordingly, nodding toward the dance floor. "That kind? Yeah, a little," he said with a smile.
"Let's dance, then," Brian said, taking Jack's hand and leading him to the dance floor.
The music was thumping to a fast techno beat, the bass heavy and throbbing on the dance floor, which was becoming increasingly crowded as the hour grew later. Brian, though, was uninterested in the rhythm of the song, dancing to a beat entirely his own. He slid one hand behind Jack's neck, the other to his waist, pulling him in close, demanding eye contact as they moved together slowly.
Brian knew exactly what he was doing; the eye contact was intended to make Jack blink first, to allow Brian to establish his dominance. He was good at it, too. His eyes were seductive, full of unapologetic desire. Jack held his gaze for a long moment before dropping his eyes, trusting that his skill made it appear natural rather than calculated.
With a knowing smile, Brian pulled Jack closer, until his leg was between Jack's thighs. Brian was hot, and that was one reaction he didn't have to feign. He could feel Brian's erection, and he knew that Brian could feel his, too. They were of a height, close enough that their lips were only inches apart.
He lifted his chin with a sweet smile as his eyes met Brian's again. His gaze never dropped, and Jack kept the eye contact, as tempting as it was to let his eyes close, to lean forward and steal a kiss. He felt his pulse quicken as he waited -- purely a physical reaction, naturally -- both of them with their lips slightly parted, just breathing each other in.
Brian leaned in and whispered into his ear. "You dance more than a little."
Jack replied with a slightly abashed shrug. "So do you."
"You have plans tonight?" This time the whisper was followed by the faintest hint of lips brushing his ear.
It felt good...better than good. "I dunno," Jack said, keeping his voice level. "Do I?"
"There's one thing you should know," Brian said, still whispering, keeping Jack's body close against his own. "I don't bottom."
Jack smirked over Brian's shoulder, unsurprised. "I'm...flexible," he whispered back.
"Oh, I'll bet you are."
He felt Brian smile against his neck before he pulled away, taking Jack's hand once again as he headed toward the door.
~~~~~
"Come on in," Brian said, opening the door to his flat. Apartment. Whatever. "Beer?"
"Sure," Jack said.
During the short drive, he had given Brian his prepared cover story. American expatriate working in Wales. Import/export business. Nothing too exceptional or out of the ordinary. Brian reciprocated, truthfully, as far as Jack could tell, mentioning that he worked in advertising. Jack used the opportunity to focus, to remind himself why he was there -- in other words, to get his brain back in control over his cock. He was here with a job to do. If he happened to have a bit of fun, well, that was a fringe benefit.
He tried to look around as unobtrusively as possible while Brian was fetching beer, shrugging off his jacket and laying it over the arm of a sofa. He set it down carefully, conscious of the capped syringe inside the zipped inner pocket.
Jack smiled. There it was, sitting on top of the mantle: a rectangular box that appeared to be made of brass, about seven inches long. He went over to have a look -- what difference did it make if Brian saw him looking at the object he planned to steal? He wasn't going to remember anyway.
Brian approached and handed him a beer -- Dutch, thank God. He'd lived in the UK too long to appreciate American beer. "Interesting piece," Jack said, hoping to prompt him into revealing where he'd acquired it.
Brian practically snorted. "That? A friend of mine brought it back from his trip to Europe. I think he said he found it in some shop in London. Not really my style," he said. He gestured around the flat, otherwise filled with decidedly modern décor. He was right -- Jack had noticed the box so quickly because it stuck out like a sore thumb among Brian's other possessions. "But you didn't come here for the knick-knacks, did you?" Brian said, sliding an arm around Jack's waist.
Jack smiled, but had no time for a reply before Brian's mouth was against his. No teasing now, just a hot, urgent clash of lips and tongues. Oh, yeah, had he been right about Brian's mouth. It had been made for this, just this -- beautiful soft lips and a clever tongue. Mundane activities like speech and eating and drinking were a waste of that mouth. It was tempting to start reaching, exploring, but Jack reminded himself -- again -- to hold back, to let Brian take the lead.
Brian stopped kissing him long enough to take the beer from Jack's hand and set it down, along with his own. With a knowing smile, he pushed Jack backwards and didn't stop until Jack felt his back against the wall. Brian stopped kissing him and pulled his own t-shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor. His eyes held Jack's as he began to unbutton Jack's shirt, loosen his belt. Brian looked as good without his clothes as he did with them, his chest defined, strong, tapering to a narrow waist. Jack allowed himself to give into the urge to touch, sliding his hands down Brian's arms, around his back and across his chest.
He only stopped because Brian was tugging at his now unbuttoned shirt, pushing it down and off Jack's arms. Brian started kissing him again as he opened Jack's trousers, pushing them down his hips with one hand while reaching inside with the other. Jack's breath caught as Brian reached his cock, and he could feel Brian smiling through their kiss. Brian's clever hand stroked his erection firmly, easily, spreading the moisture at the tip, and Jack instinctively arched into the strong, knowing grasp.
Brian only stroked him a few more times before he stopped, smirking at the unconscious press of Jack's hips. "Now, now," he teased. "Patience is a virtue."
Jack snorted, just holding back a wiseass response. Brian grinned as he dropped to his knees, pulling off the remainder of Jack's clothing. Jack glanced down just as Brian licked him, and he wasn't sure which was hotter -- the sight of Brian kneeling, watching Jack, or the sensation of Brian's tongue on his cock.
Jack's head dropped back against the wall as Brian began to suck him gently, only teasing, not seeking his release. Jack's hand dropped to Brian's hair, prompting a raised eyebrow and knowing look. Even on his knees, sucking Jack's cock, Brian left no doubt that he was in control, and he let Jack know it. Jack smiled to himself and kept his touch easy, seeking only to touch, to connect, not to take charge.
With a final lick, Brian was on his feet again, his own trousers dropping to the floor. He kissed Jack once more as he stepped out of them, long and languid, his fingers in Jack's hair, moving his head to just the angle Brian wanted. He pressed Jack firmly against the wall, grinding their hips together, and Jack was content to go along, to let Brian do as he pleased. It was all good, in his book.
Without warning, Brian broke the kiss, abruptly turning Jack by his shoulders and pressing him against the wall. Jack only just stopped his cheek from colliding with the wall, bracing himself with his hands. Brian's hands quickly covered his, holding him in place as he started to lick and nip at Jack's neck, his shoulder, while he ground his cock against Jack's ass. Jack's heartbeat suddenly quickened, and something seemed to shift, leaving him feeling slightly uneasy, even as his arousal suddenly increased tenfold.
A noise escaped Jack's throat, something between a sigh and a groan, and he let his head drop onto Brian's shoulder.
"Mmm, that's better." Brian said. He'd felt it, too, the sudden change in energy.
He continued to work his mouth down Jack's neck, and the combination of sensations was heady -- a sharp bite followed by a soft tongue, the firm insistence of Brian's hands keeping him unmoving, the unspoken demand of Brian's hard cock against his ass.
Brian spoke softly, but his tone was anything but gentle. "Now, the only question," he said, biting at Jack's ear, "is whether I want to fuck you here, or take you over to the bed." Another, sharper nip at his ear, soothed by a soft tongue, and his tone became almost matter-of-fact. "I mean, I can fuck you really hard like this, but I can probably go longer and deeper if you're on your back. What d'you think?" He pressed harder against Jack's ass, grinding his cock against him.
Jack had a quip, a comeback for every occasion, practiced over many decades and on more worlds -- and with more species -- than he could count. But his wit utterly deserted him; he was nothing more than a bundle of nerve endings, every one of which felt like it was on fire. Some other time he would consider this, wonder what had happened, when he'd allowed this earthbound man of barely thirty years to steal away his practiced control -- but that was some other time. Right now, he didn't fucking care. "Whatever you want," he managed.
"Hmm, whatever I want," Brian sucked at a spot on Jack's neck he seemed to particularly enjoy, perhaps because it made Jack shudder. "Good answer." He took Jack's arm and led him over to the bed. He stopped only to yank back the duvet, then sank down on the bed, pulling Jack down with him. Within seconds he was on top of Jack, pushing Jack's thighs apart with his knees as he kissed him again.
Oh, yeah, the bed was a good call. Jack let his eyes close as he returned the hot, demanding kiss, his hands in Brian's hair, on his back, drifting down to his ass, clutching at his thigh as their cocks rubbed together. "Mmmm," Brian said, licking his neck. "Gonna fuck you hard, Jack."
Jack didn't respond with words, but he felt himself sink just a little more as he surrendered to Brian's demanding hands and mouth. This was what he wanted, what he'd had so rarely since he'd been here. Brian's confidence -- it might be sheer, self-serving arrogance, but it was strength, a strength of the kind Jack almost never encountered. It was a strength he could give himself over to, just for awhile, and it reminded him of other men, other times in faraway places. He'd missed it more than he'd known.
Brian kissed him once more, and then knelt between Jack's thighs, reaching into the nightstand. His eyes didn't leave Jack's as he slicked on the condom, and Jack had no desire to look anywhere else. He felt the cool touch of lube, and Brian pressed his legs back, pushing inside.
"Fuck," Jack gasped. It had been long enough since he'd done this that the sudden entry should have hurt, but it didn't. It felt good, almost too good, and he nearly came like a teenager being fucked for the first time. Whatever was left that he'd been holding back, he gave it over, clasping Brian's shoulders to him, urging him to take what he wanted.
Brian smiled, murmuring nonsense sounds as he began to take Jack just as he'd promised -- hard. So hard it was nearly brutal, but he was hitting just right on each thrust, the clever bastard, and Jack gasped from the intensity of it. Jack slid his legs to Brian's shoulders, and Brian took hold of them, using the leverage to pound into Jack even more forcefully. "Oh, yeah," Brian said, smiling, the expression on his face like that of a conquering general, and as far as Jack was concerned, he was more than welcome to claim his prize.
He tried to touch his own cock, but Brian grasped both his wrists and held them down against the bed. He needn't have bothered; if Brian didn't want him to touch his cock, then he wasn't going to. But the feeling of Brian holding his wrists only seemed to arouse both of them more, if that was possible, and Brian thrust inside him even deeper and harder. Brian started to come, gasping out his own pleasure as he released Jack's wrists, reaching for his cock. It took only the lightest touch of Brian's fingers to trigger Jack's release, and he followed Brian, his come spattering across his stomach.
Jack felt boneless, unable to move, though his thigh muscles welcomed Brian easing his legs from his shoulders. Brian withdrew easily, tossing the condom into a small bin nearby before sprawling on his back beside Jack, his arm tossed carelessly across Jack's chest.
They were both still panting and damp with sweat. Jack tried to force his brain to return to a functional state. Brian didn't seem like the overnight type, and he needed to consider moving...and the best way to administer the Retcon.
Jack lifted Brian's hand to his mouth, kissing the palm lightly before sitting up.
Brian opened his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. "You going somewhere?"
"Dunno," he said lightly.
"Unless you have somewhere you need to be...." He shrugged. Jack suspected that was as close to an invitation as he was going to get.
Jack smiled. "Nope, nowhere to be."
"That's good." Brian slipped his hand behind Jack's neck, pulling him down for an openmouthed kiss. "Because I have somewhere to be -- again -- in about an hour." His other hand reached for Jack's ass, squeezing it just enough to make his point.
The Retcon, Jack reflected, could wait until later, after all....
~~~~~
The only time he really enjoyed sleeping was when he shared a bed with someone. Maybe it was the distraction, or the satiation, but when he slept with someone, he dreamed less and slept more deeply than he ever did alone.
And so he wasn't sure exactly how long Brian had been licking at his chest, stomach, and cock before he was fully aware, and moaning softly. It was still dark outside. They'd taken a quick shower and crawled back into bed -- what, maybe three hours ago?
"Mmm, glad you're awake," Brian said, lifting his head. "Hate to fuck somebody who's not there to appreciate it."
Jack chuckled. "I think I'd appreciate it anyway."
"Bet you would." Brian had crawled on top of him again, his own cock erect, and Jack couldn't help reaching out to touch. He stroked it up and down for a moment or two as Brian reached for the condom, handing it to Jack. He tore open the packet and rolled it onto Brian slowly, touching as much as he could.
Brian pushed him down and pressed inside. It was slower this time, less urgent, but that suited Jack just fine. He was glad for the chance to touch, and to feel, to savor the purely physical sensation of being taken like this. Brian's hair was soft underneath his fingers, the muscles of his chest firm under damp skin. Jack learned that if he scratched lightly over Brian's lower back, he would shudder just a bit, which Jack found immeasurably pleasing.
Jack felt Brian tense, and he tilted his hips, let his thighs splay open wider, allowing Brian to take him harder. Brian wrapped a hand around Jack's cock as he did, and Jack was closer than he'd thought, because he came almost immediately, thrusting into Brian's palm. He felt himself tighten around Brian's cock, and Brian groaned, pounding hard into Jack as he came. The expression on his face this time was blissful and unguarded, and it made Jack smile. He wrapped an arm around Brian's neck and pulled him down for a kiss, which was returned with somewhat surprised enthusiasm.
Brian pulled out carefully before slipping away for a moment, returning with a warm, damp washcloth, which he dropped rather unceremoniously onto Jack's chest. He cleaned Jack briskly before tossing it aside, reaching for a water bottle sitting on the night table. He took a long swallow before handing it to Jack, who drank gratefully.
Jack knew it was time, that he should crawl out of bed and get the syringe, use it as soon as Brian fell asleep, then steal away with the goddamn box. The thought that Brian wouldn't remember anything about this night made him surprisingly sad. He tried to push the thought away, to move, but his body wasn't cooperating. Brian wrapped an arm around his waist, and Jack felt his eyelids grow heavy.
~~~~~
When he awoke next, sunlight was streaming in through the windows, and he felt uncharacteristically drowsy. He came fully awake immediately, though, once he realized that Brian was gone. There was a note and a key on the pillow next to him. Jack swore under his breath. He'd fucked up something proper. So much for Retcon and a clean operation.
He picked up the note. "Jack, I had a 7:30 a.m. meeting. I never do this, but you aren't some twink who's going to rob me blind, and you looked awful cute sleeping. So do me a favor and lock up, then drop the key through the mail slot. It was fun, and if you find yourself back in PGH, I'll see you around. Oh, and hey. If you really like that brass box, go ahead and take it, will you? I fucking hate it, and this way I can tell my friend some trick stole it, and it will almost not be a lie. Take care. Brian."
Jack lay back and laughed. The universe really did have a sense of humor sometimes.
He padded out of bed, and finding his phone in his jacket, he dialed a Cardiff number. "Ianto," he said. "Book me a flight home."
~~~~~
A week later, the five of them stood around Owen's desk, staring at the small box inside the portable containment unit. Transferring the creature into the box had been surprisingly easy; they'd shoved the box through the airlock, used the airlock's glove to reach inside and open the top, and the creature had simply dropped inside. CCTV showed that neither creature nor box had budged in more than four days, and Jack decided it was safe enough to remove the box from the vaults.
They'd put it into a portable containment unit and brought it up to Owen's station to get some readings. Owen did what he could while the box was in the PCU, and glanced up at Jack, who nodded. He was standing by with the portable cell, just in case. Carefully, they released the seals on the PCU, and Owen slowly slid back the top and lifted out the box, placing it on his desk.
"Is it just me," Gwen asked, "or is it a bit...well, glowing?"
"Yeah," Jack said, transfixed. "It is." He touched the top of the box very lightly, just a brush of fingertips. "It's warm."
"I'll be damned," Owen said, attaching a temperature probe. "It is."
"Shhh," Tosh said, leaning in toward the box. "D'you hear that?"
Ianto was behind Tosh and further away from the box, but he was leaning on the desk with one hand. "I can't really hear anything, but I can feel it through the desk. A slight vibration."
Jack gestured for them all to hush. He leaned forward, placing his palm lightly over the box, and pressed his ear to the desk. He closed his eyes and listened before lifting his head with a grin. "Ianto's right, it's definitely a low frequency vibration. If I didn't know better," he said, "I'd almost think it was...purring." He looked up at Gwen. "What d'you reckon, Madam High Commissioner for Alien Rights? Do you think we're abusing it by leaving it in the box?" His voice was light, teasing.
Gwen shook her head, lifting her hands in surrender. "No, fine with me." She considered a moment. "I just hope that you didn't have to sacrifice too much to get the box back, Jack."
Jack grinned. She could give as good as she got. He hadn't told her anything about the trip, but she'd prepared Brian's social background, and it hadn't taken much for her to put it together. "Well, you know me," he said modestly. "I'm always willing to sacrifice for the team."
Gwen and Tosh giggled, Owen snorted, and Ianto blushed quite fetchingly. Apparently, it hadn't taken much for the rest of the team to put it together, either, or there had been an awful lot of gossip while he was away.
Jack rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but grin. "That's enough for tonight -- we can finish this up tomorrow. Take your dirty minds and go home." With a few muttered comments about exactly who had what kind of mind, they started to disperse. Owen began to put the box back in the PCU, but Jack waved him off. "Go ahead, I'll take care of it."
After the others left, Jack sat quietly with his hand resting on the top of the box. It remained slightly warm to the touch, gently vibrating. Whatever kind of life the creature had in there, Jack hoped it was enjoying itself. With a smile, he thought about Brian Kinney, and for just a moment, he felt like the old Captain Jack, with nothing to do but daydream about the many kinds of pleasure the universe had to offer.
So Pittsburgh wasn't Delta Cyg IV, with its twin moons reflecting their light onto cyan-tinted water. It wasn't Paris or Florence. Jack looked around the messy, crowded Torchwood hub, deep underneath the heart of Cardiff. If you knew where to look, every place had its own charms.
~ end ~