Chapter Text
Chapter One: Fell Down a Rabbit Hole
"You owe me ten quid."
"I do not."
"You do," Owen insisted, leaning back in his swivel chair, drink stirrer caught between his teeth giving his smile a childish edge. "Last week, down the pub, I said there was no way Jack was ever gonna tell us what really happened while he was gone, and look? He's as tight lipped as a fucking teenager, that one. And just as bloody mouthy, thinkin' he can order us around like…like-"
"Like employees?" Toshiko helpfully chimed in, eyes shining with warring shades of amusement and consternation behind the purple frames of her glasses. "He is the boss, Owen. Just because Gwen took over for a little while doesn't mean that it's not Jack's name on the door anymore. Well, if we even had a door that is, rather than just a big cog thing set into some concrete…My point is, he's been through a lot, and it's not like any of us like to be exactly forthcoming about our own traumas, is it? He just needs time to adjust, is all. To remember that he's home, and has people here for him."
Owen let out a mocking scoff. "Time, right. Something an immortal has in infinite supply and us mere humans have diddly squat of. It'll be a miracle if we get anything out of him before we're in the Torchwood Care Home, eating jello out of plastic cups and arguing over Countdown."
"Don't you do that anyway?" Ianto asked, coming up behind them in that silent way of his. "I take it you're talking about Jack behind his back?"
The doctor had the decency to look chagrined, hands raised in the universal sign of supplication. "Ianto, mate, you know I didn't mean anything by-"
Letting out a heavy sigh, the young agent pulled out a stool, plopping it down in the empty space between their two desks. "I agree with you, completely. You know he took me to dinner last week, just like he promised, and every time I tried to get something out of him, he changed the bloody subject! To me, of all things! Like I wanna talk about what movies I've seen or the new lasagna recipe I got from Gwen when he's been gone for months on end and then turns up right out of the bloody blue! I thought-I thought things would be different," Ianto admitted, so quiet they could barely hear it. "He seemed like he might have actually…"
"Changed?" Toshiko said, not unkindly. "He did seem to have a renewed sense of…something when he came back, all grand speeches and bold proclamations. And now, it's just back to work as usual. That's got to be confusing, most of all for you given your…thing."
"I don't even know if we have a thing. Jack's not exactly one to put labels on things. He's far too…casual for that. But it's really bloody irritating and I just…realized we've spent the past two hundred and seventy nine seconds talking about my love life, which is weird." He turned to Owen. "Why haven't you thrown a pencil at me or something like you normally would?"
"How little you think of me. Gee, Ianto, I'm so hurt." Going back to his notes for a few seconds, he eventually snapped his book shut and kicked his feet up onto his desk. "I dunno, mate. Just trying to be a little more…sensitive, to your situation. We've all had our shovelfuls of shit this last year and…after Diane, guess I know where you're coming from a little more, is all. But don't expect it to become a regular thing, yeah? There's only so much talk about feelings a bloke can take."
Ianto offered him a half smile. "Don't I know it." Glancing down at his watch, the Welshman squinted his eyes, asking them curiously, "Wasn't Gwen supposed to be back with takeaway by now?" when the door to the Hub ground open, the agent in question sauntering across the walkway, plastic bags held aloft in triumph.
"I am. Amazing. Seriously. You lot should name a holiday after me after what I did to get all this," Gwen declared, depositing the various containers on their worn coffee table. "Stood in line for twenty five minutes I did, then when I realized they'd forgotten the egg rolls, I went back and spent another ten minutes in there waiting."
"A real hero," Tosh agreed fondly, abandoning her carousel of computers and making her way to the sofa, eagerly digging into a container of mu shu pork. It was almost midnight, and by most people's standards not the most conventional time to be eating fast food -or even being awake- but the Rift activity had been particularly volatile today and Jack wanted them at the ready, just in case. So it was all hands on deck, no one going home until the sun rose, then back again after a whopping three hour's worth of sleep to do it all over again.
The life of public servants, so glamorous.
Gathering around the table, Ianto began doling out napkins and cutlery and reminding people that coasters were an actual thing as the three of them chatted away. Gwen was too busy looking up at Jack's office, the single light still burning catching her attention as it shimmered against the translucent glass walls. Staggering over the amassed assembly of legs and elbows, Gwen extricated herself and climbed the stairs, knuckles knocking faintly on the glass so as not to startle their fearless leader.
"You got a hit on some Rift activity?" Jack asked abruptly, not even bothering to look up from his sheaf of paperwork.
Gwen cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. "No, um, I just got us all a spot to eat, wanted to know if you wanted anything or not."
"I'm good, thanks." Not even a flicker.
Things had been…awkward, ever since he got back. Since he'd found out about her marrying Rhys. He'd looked so happy to see her, and yet it had drained away like water down a plughole when he took sight of that diamond engagement ring. And his return, after so many agonizing and uncertain months away, had pulled all her old feelings right back up to the surface, despite how deeply she'd buried them inside herself, like driftwood being brought back up in the tide. He was Jack, and yet he was…not, and all she wanted to do was help him, but she couldn't do that if she didn't know what was wrong, if he didn't just open his mouth and bloody tell her like a normal person.
But Jack wasn't normal. He never had been, and he never would be. And maybe that was half the problem.
"Okay then. Well, you know where we are if you change your mind," she said softly before making her way back to her friends, letting herself get lost in some conversation over one of Tosh and Owen's first cases together.
Jack Harkness was tired. And for a man that didn't really sleep, he supposed that was kind of a given. But it was more than that. So, so much more. He'd been back for two weeks now, and yet every time he closed his eyes, he expected to be back on the Valiant when he opened them, chained up and bleeding, waiting for that automatic door to hiss open and the Master to swagger in, pointed shoes squeaking incongruously against the metallic grating of the floor. Sometimes it was a cattle prod. Sometimes he'd pump the vents full of poison and watch him choke to death. Sometimes it was just a plain old beating when he was bored or if he wasn't getting what he wanted out of the Doctor, when his 'puppet' refused to dance to its owner's drums.
Some days, he left him completely alone. And that was almost worse. The silence. The emptiness. The gnawing, aching feeling in his chest, thinking about everyone he loved in danger, not knowing whether they were alive or not. If they needed him. About Martha, out there all on her own in a world gone to hell in an intricately woven hand basket. About the Doctor, caged and powerless as no one so brave and wonderful should ever be. About Rose, stuck in some parallel universe but mercifully far away from all this.
The waiting. The waiting got to you.
He was home now. He was fine and everything had been fixed and all those people had been saved and everyone he loved was safe and it was okay, it was all good, it had all been wiped away like it never happened…but it did. And he didn't have anyone to talk to about it, no one to share in the burden of these memories. No one would understand, without having been there. What it was like. How it felt, to die over and over and over again, more times than he ever had before. He didn't want to scar anyone else with that, to scare them, so he kept quiet. Took Ianto out to dinner where the sound of the clinking silverware was too much like knives sharpening against metal. Tried not to flinch every time Gwen brushed against him in the passenger seat as she fiddled with the radio because apparently his taste in music was too 'old-timey.' Fought to keep his breathing even when the lights went out and the Hub wound down and it was just him, alone in the dark once more, an enemy of his own mind.
Jack knew what PTSD was. Had seen enough soldiers battle through it during the countless wars he'd been a part of, sometimes winning, sometimes not. But not him, never him. Jack Harkness dusted himself off, and carried on, not even stopping to let his wounds scab over, much less heal properly. Moving, forward, forward, forward. Always forward, never back, just like the Doctor.
He'd always idolized him so much. Now he'd give almost anything to be a little less like him, a little less broken, a little more whole.
He felt disconnected and irritated and on edge at every little noise and he hated it, hated it so much, because he was supposed to be better than this, was a leader and it was his job to look after everybody and he couldn't do that if he was wasting all his time on trying to hold himself together. He'd make a mistake, he'd miss something, and someone he loved would end up paying the price; he couldn't allow that. He wouldn't allow that, not again, not in a million years. Not after what happened to Gray. So he had to get over this, had to find some way to beat it, to fix himself. Even if it killed him -which was okay, since he'd just come straight back to life, like always.
But the cracks were getting more and more noticeable, the strain ever more apparent. So he tried to keep his distance, excluding himself, secluding himself in his office, behind his walls of glass and watching on as his team talked and joked and laughed without him. And it hurt, it hurt so much because that was what he'd fought so hard to get back to, and now he couldn't even be a part of it, looking in on the life he'd once had and wanted again, still wanted, always wanted.
Thankfully, the piercing wail of an alarm cut through his melancholia like a knife, allowing him to instantly slip into his designated role as effortlessly as he donned his dark wool coat. "What have we got, people?"
"A major energy disturbance, about four miles from here. Significant increases in Rift activity, almost off the charts. Jack, I've never seen readings this high," Tosh rattled off, food forgotten in her lap as her fingers flew against her keyboards, reams of text appearing on the screen, maps of Cardiff flashing with warning lights.
"Any idea what caused it?"
"We've been monitoring everything all day and there's been no unusual disturbances, no police reports with any of the telltale signs of alien activity or interference, but the earlier blips suggest that whatever it is, it's escalating, and fast."
"Then we better get a move on. Alright team, suit up. We leave in five," Jack ordered, returning to his office and taking out his holster, securing it under his coat as his mind raced through worst case scenarios. They were all piled into the SUV and tearing down the road in under three, and while the immortal marveled at their precision and efficiency, he couldn't help but feel just the tiniest twinge of jealousy that it was under Gwen's leadership that this had come about and not his. While he'd always prided himself of his military strategy, how tightly he ran the ship as it were, perhaps he had been a little too harsh in the past. Maybe they needed a more caring, considerate hand to guide them, given everything they'd been through in the past year or so. Maybe they needed Gwen.
But Jack couldn't allow himself to dwell on it as a few minutes later they were pulling up in an abandoned field, forgotten grasses growing up to their knees as they each jumped down, weapons at the ready, flashlights combating with the glow of the waning moon hanging high above in the sky. Man, he'd had some fun times there. Boot heels carving a swath through the tangled overgrowth, they all scanned the area, but there was no signs of any Rift activity, nothing but insects chirping and the cold autumn wind gusting through the trees like a mournful breath.
"Oh my God. Jack, look at the sky!"
There, splitting the midnight sky like a wound, was a gaping portal, trickling light like blood.
That hadn't been the moon, then. It was over a hundred feet up, golden and glistening, crackling with energy like a lightning strike, equally beautiful and deadly. Never a good combination, Jack knew from experience.
"Tosh, get me a reading!"
"I can't, the system's overloading! It's giving off too much interference."
"How is this possible?" Gwen wondered, eyes wide and panicked in her pale face, tendrils of dark hair floating like underwater seaweed as she gazed up at the giant hole in the sky. "No one can open the Rift from our side, not without breaking into the Hub."
"I think you just answered your own question," Owen muttered sarcastically, but it did little to cover the shock etched across his expression.
"Someone's opened the Rift from somewhere else." It was the only thing that made sense. "Question now is why."
The light above seemed to coalesce, churning and pulsing like the unpredictable swirl of a hurricane. There was very little known about Rift portals and their effects, but Jack reckoned it wasn't too good an idea for them all to be standing out in the open like this.
"Everyone, back in the car!" He ordered, tracing his way backwards, gun still pointed to the heavens. And then he heard it. A shout, pained and desperate, as angry as it was desolate.
"Poppy, I'm begging you, you can't do this!"
"Doctor, you know I have no choice!"
His whole body went cold, too many emotions shooting through him at once. Before he even realized it, Jack was sprinting across the field, batting away foliage as he ran at full speed, until he was standing right under the mouth of the portal, craning his neck back as if he could see all the way up there to wherever it led.
"Tosh, can you lock into that audio and link it up to our comms?"
"Already on it!" Their technician hollered, and seconds later, as if he were speaking directly to him, Jack heard the words, "We can find another way!" It was a voice that the Captain didn't know but a tone that was infinitely familiar. "Please, please, just hold on! I'll pull you up, I'll save you! I promised I'd always save you!"
"And I told you not to make promises you might not be able to keep," the mystery woman answered back, softly chiding him. "The Mnemosyne will keep coming, it'll tear this whole planet apart. Thirteen billion people, each one living for two hundred years. All those memories for it to feed on, it won't be able to resist. And you…you're over twelve hundred years old, sweethearts. So many memories, good and bad and everything, the entire spectrum of a Time Lord's existence, there's no telling if you'd even survive it. If you can't close the Rift from this side, the very least I can do is take it with me. It won't relinquish its hold on my mind, not when its already started the eradication process. So, I'm asking you, for the sake of everyone on this planet, for you to let me do this. For you to let me go."
"I can't." He sounded like he was crying; Jack had never seen him cry, except when the Master died, when he held him in his arms aboard the Valiant and realized he was all alone once again, the very last of his kind.
"Then I'm so very, very sorry for this, Doctor," the woman said, words dripping with palpable regret. "Just make sure you look after him for me, that's all I ask. I can do this, so long as I know that he'll be alright," and soon followed an indecipherable reply. Seconds later, there was a tremendous boom, a shockwave rippling out and knocking everyone off their feet, slamming them backwards into the siding of the SUV, but Jack regained his bearings almost instantly, mesmerized by the subsequent pulse of green light that lit up the sky, knitting the two sides of portal together like it had never been there at all.
"Is everyone okay?" He shouted into the ensuing silence, ears ringing slightly but seemingly no worse for wear.
"Everyone's good, Jack," Gwen called back, but even as she said the words his attention was being pulled elsewhere, to the object -no, the person- falling from the sky, the form a slash of fiery red like the blazing tail of a comet as they plummeted through the atmosphere. "Oh my God, someone's falling from that thing!"
"If they hit the earth, they'll die instantly," Owen said in that sanitized, clinical way of his, grating on the Captain's nerves harshly.
"Not if we can help it," Jack insisted firmly, hastily holstering his gun so that he could have both hands free. "Ianto, get me one of the containment units and plug it into the laptop. Owen, get out your medkit, we might need to do a little emergency surgery. Tosh, how long before they hit the ground?"
"Twenty seconds, maybe less!"
"Okay then." Striding to the SUV, Jack jumped into the backseat, hacking into the containment shell as he tried to recalibrate it back to its original settings. It was just like he'd done for Rose, all those years ago, bombs and blitzes and balloons in the sky, London on fire and an epidemic he'd never meant to start, a day that would change his life forever and set him on a course he never could have imagined.
"Come on, come on. Please work," he begged, slumping slightly when the settings finally gave way and he got to the core where he could input the new data. Seconds later, he was back in the grass, aiming the device at the descending figure, details becoming more visible as they plummeted through the atmosphere. A red coat, a stream of long brown hair. A woman. The woman. And she was wrestling with something, the shape biting and snarling as they neared the Earth. A beam of blue-tinged light shot out, engulfing the two of them and suspending them mid-air.
The beam had worked, just like he thought it would. The hard part was getting them down. Whatever that creature was, it seemed unperturbed by its current state, its howls echoing gruesomely through the night and through the deserted woodland, no doubt freaking the poor creatures dwelling there the heck out.
"Can you shoot it down?" Ianto asked from beside him, his own gun gripped tightly in his hand.
"I think so. But if it keeps struggling, I could end up shooting her."
"Her?" Owen echoed disbelievingly further down the line from them.
"What, you think a guy could fill out a coat like that? Well, anyone who wasn't me, that is," Jack quipped in an effort to hide his quaking nerves. It had been a while since he had to shoot at anything besides that Blowfish last week, and the knowledge that that woman was a friend of the Doctor's and someone he obviously cared very much about made it even worse, the fear of his reaction if Jack ended up hurting her, even by accident.
But he had to try.
Planting his feet, Jack plucked the gun from Ianto's hand and pitched his voice loud enough for them to hear, "Hey, Blubberface, try picking on someone your own size."
As predicted, the creature turned its head, a row of double mouths opening up, casting a long black proboscis into view, curling around the woman's neck like a noose, presumably feeding off of her just as she'd said. Sending up a prayer, Jack lined up the shot and squeezed, two quick successive shots that rippled through the night. There was utter silence, and then a distant thud as the body hit the grass, crumpled amongst the brittle weeds. He could just make out the woman's face, pale and pretty in the moonlight, still hanging like a ghostly apparition in the sky, an angel come to bestow knowledge or bad tidings depending on the day.
"Don't worry, we're going to get you down, alright? Just stay calm," Jack said to her, wordlessly passing Ianto back his gun and ordering Owen and Tosh after the unknown body. "I'm going to release the beam, but don't worry, I'll catch you, okay? I promise."
He saw her nod vaguely, and so he pressed the button, letting her go. She didn't scream, and that was almost worse, a soundless descent as she fell and fell and fell, until she collapsed into his awaiting arms, so hard his muscles shook with strain. Her eyes flew open, glassed over and hazy, but not so much that Jack couldn't make out their distinctive hazel colour.
"Thank you for catching me, Captain Harkness, Sir," the woman thanked him before she went limp, seemingly unconscious.
When Poppy woke up, she instantly knew where she was. Her hand immediately went up to her neck, only to discover her wrists were strapped down to a metal gurney with thick leather straps. Wonderful.
"I think she's coming 'round," she heard someone murmur, most likely Owen. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the harsh medical lighting, a wave of unease roiling in her gut as she thought of every time she'd seen that ghastly light. The face of Captain Jack swam into her vision, concerned yet implacable, a vague curiosity like she was something to be examined and categorized. Which she supposed made sense, given the fact that she'd just fallen through a rift in space and time and it was his team's job to manage such occurrences.
"Don't try to get up," he warned her, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder, Vortex Manipulator glinting mutely. "You might still be a little outta it. That thing had a pretty good grip on you. Dr Harper here managed to remove that tongue thing from your cerebral cortex, but there's no telling how much damage it did to you. Can you tell us who you are, at least? Do you know your name?"
"I do. Poppy Dana Thornton, date of birth 03/04/2003, currently twenty five years of age-"
"Bollocks! I said she was twenty one!"
Poppy ignored him, "And I know who all of you are, as well. Captain Jack Harkness, current Leader of Torchwood 3 after the previous bearer of the title committed suicide at the beginning of this millennium after using an alien artifact that gave him an apocalyptic glimpse of the future. Dr Owen Harper, former neurologist and the current head of Torchwood's medical division and resident Oscar the Grouch. Gwen Cooper, former Police Constable as of a year ago before accidentally stumbling across the institute's existence when you happened upon them at a crime scene. The first alien you ever saw was a Weevil and you're," she looked down at her left hand to check, "currently engaged to your college boyfriend Rhys Williams. He tried to get down on one knee when he proposed but he hurt his back so he did it on the settee. Ianto Jones, former member of Torchwood 1, you bugged Jack into recruiting you for days and eventually convinced him when you helped rescue Mfanwyn over there. You have a sister and a niece and nephew who you love very much, almost as much as you love your coffee. And last but certainly never, ever least, Toshiko Sato, resident technician. You have an Intelligence Quotient higher than Einstein's and can break into any computer system in the world given enough time and a good cup of tea. Last year, when you and Jack found yourselves trapped in 1941, you were so determined to make sure that you got home you wrote down the other half of the equation the team back in the present needed in your own blood. Your grandfather worked at Bletchley Park, you love playing Tetris and can beat everyone here at pool with your eyes closed. And before you go asking me how I know all this, as you deservedly should, can you do something about these restraints? They're seriously itchy. Like sweaters you get from your Gran for Christmas that you begrudgingly wear because you don't want to hurt her feelings and then end up looking as red as a lobster afterwards and so exile them to the back of your wardrobe forevermore."
Jack continued to stare down at her, and while she supposed he intended for the effect to be intimidating, she wasn't scared in the least. Not of him, never of him. She knew him too well. Yes, that knowledge was from when he was just a (beloved) fictional character to her, pixels on a screen, but the fact remained she knew Jack Harkness, and what she knew could never frighten her, even though it probably should have.
"You have an alien lie detector in your office. I give you every permission to use it on me if you need further verification of my believability."
"Don't think I won't," the immortal warned her, but the effect was undermined by the appearance of his slight half-smile.
"Oh, I know you will. I bet you've been thinking about it since before you even brought me to the Hub; I just thought I'd spare you the effort of suggesting it yourself and avoid a lecture on human rights from Gwen. I am human, if you're all wondering. I'm sure Owen's already run some blood work and various analysis on me if the bruise I can feel forming on my arm is anything to go by -thank you for doing the left, by the way, it's always been the easier of the two- and so you already know that, I'm sure."
A firm nod. "We do. Still, you could be half human, half…something else. You could be a mind reader, or telepathic, or just a really, really good guesser."
Poppy refrained from rolling her eyes. "Not that good. I swear, I mean you no harm, none of you. I never meant for any of this to happen, but that creature over there," she tipped her chin in the direction of the opposite gurney, the mass barely covered by the green plastic sheet, "the Mnemosyne, it was getting out of control. Something had to be done, and it had already opened the Rift when the Doctor and I got there. It wasn't me. I had no idea where it would spit me out, or when, but people were dying, brains deteriorating at an exponential rate, plaque building up like you'd see in cases of Alzheimer's or Dementia: I didn't have a choice. It was either jump, or let them all die."
Jack argued neutrally, "Many people would have chosen the latter if it meant saving themselves."
He had a point.
"Then that would be wrong, and cruel. Why would I ever say my life is more important than the existence of a whole planet, a peaceful planet that had done nothing wrong and was targeted by a vindictive species of parasite with an insatiable appetite for no other reason than convenience? It was the right thing to do, simple as that." It had been, and she didn't regret it. Not for one second, not for one heartbeat. Yes, she was stuck…but she was stuck in Cardiff, with Torchwood, before everything went wrong, when everyone was still alive and (mostly) happy. She could be in far, far worse places.
He searched her expression for a few more seconds, excavating it for what, she wasn't exactly sure, but it was apparently satisfactory enough for him to undo the cuffs with a few deft flicks of his fingers. Smiling sheepishly, he offered her a hand up, eyes dazzling and so very blue, like the heart of a burning flame. "Sorry about the third degree, just wanted to make sure. If you were traveling with the Doctor, that's a good enough background check for me. So, you said you were born in 2003? That means that right now, there's a four year old version of you running around…"
"Actually, not quite."
Jack stiffened, almost imperceptibly, the leader perpetually on alert for threats or danger of any kind -and nothing was quite so dangerous to him as not knowing the whole picture, Poppy knew. "I'm listening."
Steeling her spine, the brunette raised her head as she rubbed the circulation back into her wrists, fighting to maintain enough surety in her tone as to be convincing as she began to explain, "You see, the reason I know so much about you all is because I come from an alternate version of Earth, and in that version…the Doctor is a fictional character. Aliens, other planets, Time Wars and creatures? All plots in various episodes. He accidentally landed on the wrong planet, and that was how we met. Well, technically we met because he got distracted by the bookshop I was working in -you know how he is about shops- and then a load of Daleks also landed on my version of Earth and I chased after him when he inevitably went to fight them off. I knew what they were and I didn't want him to go alone."
"So by extension, we're all fictional in your world?"
Poppy nodded mutely, lips pinched white in a faint wince. "Captain Jack Harkness was so popular with the ninth Doctor that he got his own show, a spin-off, that show being Torchwood, which is how I know so much about you. I'm sorry, I know that isn't exactly what anyone wants to hear, and I didn't say what I did to gloat or be intrusive or anything, and of course I know that while everything that has happened to you was just a show for me you actually lived it and-"
"Hey, don't freak out. We don't want Owen to have to sedate you; he has very cold hands," Jack teased, eyes shining with mischief, but it was superficial at best, a smokescreen to draw attention away from his true emotions on the subject. "I suppose the theory of dimensionality would suggest that just as there's one version of Earth where we're real, there's one where we aren't."
"Exactly. Just like how every action has an equal and opposite reaction, each reality in theory can have variations of itself to the most infinitesimal degree. Like in Buffy when Anya says you could have a world without shrimp, or a world that is just shrimp…sorry, is my nerd showing too much?"
Ianto held his thumb and forefinger together. "Just a little bit."
"So…I take it from your excessive recall on all of us that you're…a fan?"
Oh, boy. "Originally, Doctor Who aired in 1963 before it was canceled in the nineties. There was a movie to bridge the gap and then it was brought back in 2005 with your first Doctor. Both my parents had grown up watching it and it became a family tradition to watch it every week when it was on. Torchwood came later but I was only two so I wasn't exactly old enough to watch it. It wasn't until I was nineteen and going through a…difficult time that I reconnected with Doctor Who and decided to give the spin-off a go. And there might have been a teeny tiny chance I watched it just because you were in it and I thought you had criminally little screen time and I was super pissed off that the Doctor abandoned you on the Game Station. Just because he was regenerating didn't mean he couldn't take twenty seconds to walk down a fricking corridor!"
Clearing her throat at her outburst, she hoped she wasn't blushing as she continued on, "Anyway, the Doctor was initially a little unsettled but once I explained things to him he warmed to the idea and asked me to travel in the TARDIS with him, as if I'd ever say no. Just the fact I got to see it with my own eyes…sometimes I really can't quite believe just how lucky I am, after loving it since the age of four. And you guys, too. I think you're indescribably brilliant, each and every one of you. Yes, even you, Owen, don't go pulling that wet cat face," Poppy grinned, chuckling when he shifted away slightly, clearly uncomfortable at her praise.
Gesturing to Tosh's desk, she inquired mildly, "I take it you've already begun searching my bag for any sort of alien technology or weapons?"
Tosh looked away, guilty. "Sorry about that, it's just procedure when we come into contact with anything from the Rift."
"I'm not upset," Poppy assured her gently, offering a kind and genuine smile. "It's the smart thing to do. You never know what you'll find with that thing. And as it so happens, there is alien technology in there," she explained to them all. "Mind if I get up now and show you?"
Jack waved a hand imploringly. "Be my guest."
Inclining her head, she swung her legs off of the examination table, vision swimming slightly as she got to her feet. Before she could move, Jack's arm was around her waist, supporting her as she trembled unsteadily, the last few stressful hours unhelpfully catching up to her.
Poppy tried to remember how to breathe.
"Thanks. Guess I'm not used to travelling by the not-so-scenic route. Honestly, how you use that Vortex Manipulator all the time is quite an achievement."
Characteristically, Jack smirked at the compliment. "Guess I'm just special."
Poppy snorted, unladylike. "Of course you are," but let him help her up the stairs, only letting go when she was sitting securely at Toshiko's desk. Scanning the assembled mess, she found what she was looking for, a smooth black stone that was the size of her palm, much like a key fob. "This is basically a panic button," she explained, holding it out so they could all see. "I came up with the idea and the Doctor constructed it for me." She directed her next words at Jack. "You know how he's always telling people not to wander off, and then they do, and then they almost get sacrificed to some alien god or kidnapped as leverage in some dastardly plot and he has to swoop in at the last minute after running around like a headless chicken for a good half hour? Well, I wanted to eliminate the headless chicken bit. It's keyed to my physiology so only I can activate it. One press of this, and his matching one will glow and transmit my exact coordinates. Only…it's not working."
Toshiko tilted her head, curiosity stark across her features. "How do you know that?"
"Because I pressed it when I picked it up, and there's currently no blue Police Public Call Box sitting in the middle of the Hub. Either the fall broke it or the energy from the Rift fried the inner circuitry. Personally, my money's on the latter," she said before placing it carefully back where she found it. Frowning, she spun the disk with an idle finger, tone endlessly contrite as she said, "I truly hate to ask anything of you-"
The technician was way ahead of her. "I'd be happy to fix it! The chance to get a look at alien tech like that…it's like Christmas come early."
"Feel free to replicate any of it if you think it might be useful for you guys. I mean, yeah you have more sense than to go wandering off…but it's not like you're immune to finding trouble, either."
Gwen barked an agreeing laugh. "Don't I know it."
Coming up beside her, Jack planted a hip against the desk, ever the pragmatist as he asked, "How long do you think it'll take to fix?"
"Hey, give her a minute, she just found out about the fricking thing! Give her a chance to at the very least open it," Poppy interjected before Tosh could reply, watching as the woman blinked slowly in seeming confusion. "It's not like Gallifreyan tech comes through the Rift on the regular. Not that I'm doubting your brilliance," the brunette was swift to assure her, "but the Time Lords were one of the most supreme group of beings in the universe. And also incredibly arrogant at times, so they couldn't even fix a toaster without making it fly or do cartwheels or talk like in Red Dwarf."
Ianto perked up at that, noticeably brightening at the reference. "You like Red Dwarf?"
Poppy barely suppressed her smile. "Yes, Ianto, I do. Suffice to say, I am a connoisseur of pop culture, especially when it comes to sci-fi and fantasy. If it's got a spaceship or something cool and supernatural in it, I've probably seen it. And no, I'm not spoiling anything for you, so don't ask. Just because this is an alternate Earth to mine means I want to be messing around with timelines while I'm here-"
"But you could tell us what happens," Owen interrupted boldly, leaning against the railing with a thoughtful expression. "You know, little things, like where to invest in certain stocks, who to bet on at the Oscars, winning lottery numbers…"
"Yes, Owen, because in my free time I liked to look up winning lottery numbers from when I was three, just for something to do." Poppy snorted dryly. "Honestly, I know I was a nerd with a social life that could be politely labeled as 'abysmal,' but I wasn't that tragic."
"I don't know, you were kind of giving me that impression…" he trailed off with an impish grin.
"Oh shut up, you git," she shot back heatedly but she couldn't quite deliver it with the desired edge she wanted, so it came out more fond than anything. "It was genetic, okay! I mean, I was middle-named after Dana Scully because it was my parent's favourite show. My mother was a Trekkie and my dad was a Jedi: I had no choice in the matter. Although I suppose you could get a lot worse than being named after a kickass FBI scientist who rewrote Einstein for their senior thesis, so I consider myself lucky. Anyway, enough about me, it's time Jack took a look at this," Poppy declared, picking up her pilfered sonic screwdriver. "I take it you know what this is?"
Jack nodded faintly. "Had a bit of an upgrade since my day." He squinted at it critically, a frown puckering his mouth. "I kinda miss the blue."
"I did as well," Poppy acquiesced, "but the old one didn't do this," and proceeded to flick it open with exaggerated flair, using the psychic interface to make it light up, a green flash of light haloing the ceiling above.
The immortal capitulated. "Fine, I guess that's kinda cool."
"That was what that light in the sky was," Gwen surmised, always quick on her feet. "You used that to seal the Rift closed."
Poppy nodded, flicking the device off with a thought. "This is Time Lord technology, way beyond anything we could ever develop on Earth, even within the next few hundred years. Like the TARDIS, the spaceship that the Doctor travels in -and the reason why Jack disappeared for a while- has what's called a psychic interface, so you just point and think rather than point and shoot, like…" She gestured to the cooling styrofoam cup of coffee on Gwen's desk, murmuring, "Watch this," before she extended her arm and pointed the screwdriver in its direction, thinking of what she wanted it to do and picturing it in her mind's eye.
Seconds later, steam began to rise from the cup, so she retracted her arm and tipped her head, a faint smile and encouraging smile peeking out. "Go ahead, it's perfectly safe, I give you my word."
Tentatively, Gwen reached out and took a sip, beaming when she took the cup away from her lips. "That's brilliant! That is bloody brilliant that is!"
"Of course it's technically a scientific instrument that should be used for…scientific stuff, but it is handy for other things, too. It can open any door, scan for signs of alien life, fuse pretty much anything and even mend injuries in a pinch, but only if they're minor. I didn't want to take it because the Doctor without his screwdriver is like Shaggy without Scooby or autumn without comfy jumpers, but it was the only way I could close the Rift. And the TARDIS can make him another one." This, too, she carefully handed over to Toshiko, the woman staring at it with unmitigated fascination. "Since they're made from the same technology, it might make things easier for you. I know you already have enough on your plate as it is with the increased Rift activity, ever since you opened it and Abbadon came through."
"You know about that?"
Poppy smiled cryptically. "I know an awful lot about a great many things. But yes, I know about Abbadon. That was how season one ended. The bit where Gwen sat with you for so long always makes me tear up."
Gwen winced at the mention of it. "Yeah, wasn't exactly fun for any of us, that."
"I know, I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I think you were all exceedingly brave. And I'm not the only one. Fans still love watching the show, even in my time. It's been out for decades, but you are not forgotten, none of you. You might not have had the longevity that Doctor Who had with it's almost seventy years on TV, but you have just as much heart, and you matter just as much to those that recognize your worth. It wasn't every day that we had so much diverse representation in the media we consumed, not like in my era. You were trailblazers, all of you. You helped people find out who they were and feel comfortable with it. It was never just about the aliens, but the fact that you're not just a team: you're a family. It's not your job to die for one another, and yet you'd do it without second thought. You put your lives on the line, day after day, week after week, year after year, and no one ever knows just how much you do for them. You don't do it for thanks, of which you get jack all -pun intended, pun always intended- or for the money, but because you all believe in something greater than yourselves, in defending and protecting people against things they could ever scarcely imagine. You believe in doing the right thing, no matter what."
A pause, then…"Did you practice that in the mirror or something?" from Jack, and the spell was broken and she was laughing, and Dear God, what was her life, that she got to stand in the middle of Torchwood and laugh like she'd never, ever stop?
"Hey, I was being poetic and profound! That's a double 'p'! Don't rain on my fricking parade, Harkness!" And watched as he just shook his head in amusement.
"Anyway, I should probably get going," Poppy declared, reaching for her bag so she could put everything back inside. "I have no idea what the hotels are like around here-"
"Don't be ridiculous," Jack interjected before she could say another word. "You're staying here. We're not shipping you off to some random hotel in a time you're not even from."
She immediately shook her head. "I don't want to be an imposition, you've already done so much for me-"
"It's not an imposition," the Captain quickly assured her. "I mean, look at you: so not imposing." Poppy cracked a grin at his attempt at humour. "It's for your own good. We don't have a clue what kind of thing that was or what side effects it might have. It was attached to your brain, Poppy: not exactly a good thing. Besides, it's not like you've even got any money that would work in this time anyway."
"You went through my wallet." Not a question.
He didn't even look contrite, the dingus. "Yep, sure did. And your purse, and your pencil case with the six pastel highlighters. Seriously, six. Who needs so many?"
"They're pretty!" Poppy defended, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "And while I appreciate the offer, I'm not making anyone open up their homes and babysit me! It didn't exactly work out last time when Gwen brought Emma home, did it?"
"Which is why you'll stay at the Hub where I can keep an eye on you," Jack easily rebuffed her sound logic. "And for the record, yes, I'm sure you're more than capable of looking after yourself, but you did leave something out from your story earlier." A breath, then, "Owen saw your hands."
Flinching, she stuffed the offending appendages in her pockets, hiding the bruises on her fingertips from sight. "I see."
"How long?" Owen asked her, voice soft for the first time all night, uncharacteristic for him in general -although Poppy knew he was more than capable of it when he wanted to be.
"I was eight when I was diagnosed. I had symptoms for weeks prior but my parents weren't sure what it was. I had a virus and it masked a lot of it. But, um, I was sick and got sent home from school. It was the day before I was supposed to go back and I was doing my homework, on The Lion King of all things -seriously, the English education system at its finest, learning about Disney movies- and my face went blue and couldn't. My parents both have medical backgrounds, knew it was synosis. They thought it was something to do with my heart since I was born with VSD."
"Ventricular Septal Defect," he clarified for them all. "A hole in the heart."
"Then I started coughing up blood. My dad carried me to the surgery at the nearby and they said it was tonsillitis and sent me home. They didn't know I was in DKA, Diabetic Keto Acidosis."
"Jesus fucking Christ," she heard him mutter but regardless she carried on.
"My parents wanted a second opinion, so they got another doctor. She recognized my symptoms and did a blood glucose check. She couldn't get a reading it was so high. So I got rushed into an ambulance and then was admitted to a high dependency unit where they spent hours and hours trying to get an IV into my arm, I was so dehydrated. The doctors said it would have taken nearly half a dozen liters of fluid to get me back to normal. On my admittance papers, my blood sugar was almost eight times over the acceptable limit. They said if I'd been left much longer I would have slipped into a diabetic coma and not woken up. Even as I was, the main doctor on call said they'd seen very few people survive in my state. I was in hospital for almost a week, and then got sent home. It was a few days before my birthday. Suffice to say it wasn't exactly all laughs and presents. I haven't had a birthday cake in seventeen years, since to boot I was still sick afterwards and was diagnosed with coeliac months later, which they'd had suspicions of all that time but supposedly the readings weren't high enough, despite the fact my hair was falling out and I was throwing up all the time. Unsurprisingly, I had a fairly strong case of PTSD after all that and well and truly detest hospitals, made all the worse by my constant yo-yoing for appointments and blood tests and other instances of DKA. So…that's me, in a nutshell."
Tentatively, she raised her head, trying to gauge everyone's reaction. Tosh looked like she was going to burst into tears at any second, with Gwen not far off. Ianto was frowning so hard she feared the expression would be permanently stuck there, and Owen looked genuinely disturbed for the first time in forever, and Jack…oh, Jack, he was the worst of all. Because he understood. If this was close to The Year That Never Was, after everything he'd been through…yes, she could see it in his eyes. The agony, the guilt, the rage and the memories and the sadness he couldn't do anything with, had no outlet for except to dedicate himself to his work and try to remind himself he was a human being with stolen moments with Ianto.
"I'm sorry." Speak of the suited cinnamon roll.
"Oh, Ianto, there's no need for that, honestly. It's not your fault, wasn't anyone's fault. It's genetic, I would have happened eventually. It just decided that eight years was long enough time for me to have a normalish life before deciding I obviously needed a tour of the scary side of being a human being and confronting mortality before I could even do my twelve times tables."
Deflecting pain with humour: classic. God, how much had she absorbed, watching them, the others like them? These heroes who tried so hard to keep everything in and hold everything together because they were never allowed the luxury of falling apart? No wonder therapy hadn't done anything for her.
"Still…you were just a kid."
So were you, Poppy almost said, but of course didn't, knowing it wasn't her place to say, her secret to tell.
"Right, I declare this meeting of the Pity Party Society has officially come to a close," Poppy insisted, changing the subject onto more pressing matters. "It is now," she checked her watch which was miraculously still intact after her fall, "seven minutes shy of two in the morning. I take it the Rift has probably been acting up all day and you're all knackered and would like to get aquatinted with the softer side of a pillow. Ergo, you should all go home and get some rest."
"Hey, I'm the one who gives the orders around here," Jack argued, but after the scathing look she shot him, he immediately relented, "but she's right, you should all go home. Even if after this the Rift activity dies down, we'll still be stretched thin trying to get that gizmo to work."
"Gizmo. Wow, so technical of you, Captain. Or are you just a big Spielberg fan?"
"Shut up, you weren't even born when that movie came out."
"No, but I did cry after I watched it for the first time."
"You cried at Gremlins?"
"I was four, okay, and I was sad because I wanted my own Gizmo! And he didn't get to stay with David like he should have! What? I was a sensitive child," she defended, and chucked a pencil Owen's way when he muttered, "You still are."
"Home, the lot of you. If you come in before six, I will personally drive you back to your apartments and throw you into bed myself." Jack grimaced. "That sounded a lot less kinky in my head."
The four of them all soon cleared out, Tosh and Gwen lingering the longest to say how sorry they were and promising that they'd do everything they could to get her back to the Doctor, which she appreciated. Although, she couldn't help but have her doubts. If he really loved her like he said he did, wouldn't he have followed her through the Rift in the TARDIS? Traced the signal on the sonic, perhaps, if he couldn't get a lock on her panic button? It wasn't like they were a dime a dozen or anything, although she supposed if he had done that, he'd be in fear of coming across all his previous screwdrivers and therefore cross his own timeline more than once, which he avoided at all costs. Soon it was just Jack and her, Mfanwyn chirping sleepily from her little doggie bed -no doubt Ianto's idea.
This was…kinda awkward. Not bad, but she had to keep reminding herself of how her lungs worked, and try her utmost best to not stare at his lips, the sharp line of his jaw that once seen, you did indeed always yearn for, the clear blue of his eyes that matched his shirt and the way the dimmed lights of the Hub glinted off the metal clips on his braces…
"Come on, guest rooms are this way," he said, turning on his heel and making his way through a doorway she'd never seen previously on the show.
"I didn't know you guys even had guest quarters. To be honest, I was almost expecting a camp bed in a holding cell next to a Weevil," Poppy admitted, the strike of her heels against the concrete eating up the silence.
"It's not like we use them an awful lot, but they do exist. You mentioned Alex, so I guess you know the team used to be a lot bigger. We had a recovery wing for when agents would get injured on assignments and needed time to recuperate and be monitored, but now that it's just the five of us, we had it reconverted into a pair of guest rooms. Believe me, with the way Owen drinks, we need them."
"That's only because of Katie," Poppy said before she could stop herself, tensing when Jack stopped abruptly ahead, face half in profile in the shadowed hallway.
"I know it is. Don't mention her to him, or he'll get nasty."
"I didn't intend to. Someone in my family...passed away from a brain tumor. What happened to Katie was of course different, given it was alien in origin…but I still understand, just a little. I would never go poking around at that kind of pain, not for any reason."
Jack finally turned towards her, expression inscrutable as he posed, "You're quite the empath, aren't you? Not in an alien way…but a very human one. You didn't snap at Owen earlier even though you had every right to. We violated your privacy and went through your stuff and did tests on you without your consent. There's a vial of your blood chilling in our fridge and we're alone in a secret base full of alien tech -plus a pterodactyl- and yet all you've seemed concerned about is us and making sure we don't view you as a threat, going to great lengths to explain your side of the story in a way that didn't upset anyone."
Poppy held her ground. "And what of it?"
"Nothing," Jack shrugged, frustratingly vague. "I can just see why the Doc picked you, is all. He always did like the kind ones."
"That he does. As for the rest…I've always been like that, ever since I was little. I was raised to be respectful, and kind, to be polite and courteous, but sometimes I can act a little conceited and superior when it comes to my intellect, and my writing talent. Although I guess you don't get to be on bestseller list without having some degree of talent…and there I go, bragging away. I really wouldn't do well in Ancient Greece."
He got her meaning instantly. "Hamartia. As they go, there's worse ones to have."
"What, like leaving your popcorn for cinema attendants to pick up or not rewinding your videos before you give them back?" Poppy teased, grinning at his ensuing laugh. She'd just made Captain Jack Harkness laugh.
"Oh, you're gonna fit right in here," he declared confidently, carrying on down the corridor for a few more seconds before making a right and indicating the second door occupying the left side of the hallway. "Welcome to your new home for the time being. Shower's that way, kitchen and bathroom are that way, Mfanwyn can sometimes wander about in the night but so long as you don't withhold food from her she's pretty harmless. And I'll be in my office, so if you need anything, just holler."
"Thank you, Captain, I really appreciate that. Truly."
He flashed her a megawatt smile. "Don't mention it. And, please, call me Jack. You and I both know I'm not a real Captain, and if you're going to be sticking around for any considerable length of time, there's no need for pointless formality. Not with someone as beautiful as you."
"I was wondering when you were gonna pull out the flirt," Poppy smiled fondly at him.
"Was just waiting for the right moment. Which was now. So, I can cross that off my list. Goodnight, Poppy. Sweet dreams," he said, and headed back down the hallway, leaving her alone in the half-dark.
It had a bed -surprise surprise- a wardrobe and a bedside table, a desk with an antique lamp by the window and, despite Jack's earlier words, an ensuite bathroom and shower. Shaking her head at the immortal enigma, Poppy stripped off her coat and went into the bathroom, washing her hands and checking her blood sugars before taking off the rest of her clothes. Luckily she still had her phone on her, so she switched it on and set an alarm, relieved it seemed to be just as it was this morning when she'd landed on Chookamina with the Doctor.
She missed him. With every heartbeat, she missed him, but neither could she deny the appeal of her current surroundings, the excitement thrumming through her veins. In the morning she could worry about food and money and how she was going to get her insulin; right now she just soaked in the fact that she was living yet another one of her adolescent fantasies, meeting people she'd never dream of seeing for herself in real life.
Stepping into that TARDIS really was the best decision she ever made.