Chapter Text
It had rained earlier in the day; the pavement underfoot was wet, reflective beneath the street lamps, and Jack cursed it and the Rift and the endless Welsh rain in a tired litany behind his clenched teeth as he splashed through the lingering puddles.
A flash of motion, black on black, caught in the corner of his eye off to the left. Suzie, he knew without turning to look, taking up position on the opposite corner, and a muted click in his earpiece at almost the same moment was the signal from Ianto who had taken point around the back of the warehouse. Jack breathed out, peering cautiously around the corner. It was well past quitting hour and the docks would be - should be, ought to be - quiet and deserted, but their quarry could make use of that just as well as they could. Finding nothing, he retreated back to the safety of the wall, letting his shoulder rest against it as he reached up to tap his earpiece on, his voice no louder than needed to carry to the mic that rested against his jaw. "Tosh? Toshiko, sweetheart, talk to me. Where's our bogey?"
It was Owen who answered, the irascible doctor's usual sharp bark hushed into something smoother that he reserved for his work and not his coworkers. "Two piers down, Jack, and holding steady. You should have 'im easy if you come at it from the back."
"Music to my ears," Jack replied, grinning. "Ianto?"
"On it, sir," came the immediate response and Jack's grin turned sharper. He was, he reflected grimly, going to have to swallow his pride at some point and write Yvonne Hartman a thank you letter for sending the younger man to serve out a tour of duty with Jack's team in Cardiff. If he was very lucky the shock alone of receiving it might shave a year off the damned woman's life.
He caught Suzie's eye with a brief gesture, signaling her to take the left, and indicated his own path with a jerk of his chin. Suzie nodded and the light reflected dully off of the silver chased barrel of her pistol as she raised it before slipping around the corner. Jack took another breath, checked his own gun by feel, and followed after.
If they had been lucky it would have been a routine pickup, nothing but a quick jaunt out and back. Luck, however, had been in short supply all that week which is why it surprised Jack not one bit when Owen's voice caught them up halfway to the target. "Shit - Jack! It's moving, Jack, doing a runner on us."
"Not what I wanted to hear!" Jack ground out, abandoning stealth to break into a jog. "Tosh, get me a direction!"
The sharper thud of Suzie's boots echoed back to him in distorted bursts from the walls around them. Jack swore and lengthened his stride, his voice harsh in his own ears through the mic. "Toshiko..."
"Straight ahead, moving west," Owen said sharply, "keep going but pick up the pace!"
"Let's go, people," Jack called, and Suzie's steps blended with his own, splash and slap on the pavement, Ianto's echoing dimly from the right. If they could just come in from both sides... "Ianto, can you - whoah!"
The last was an involuntary exclamation as he rounded the corner and skidded to a halt, where lamplight glinted bright off of metal, and suddenly the night was filled with the sharp sound of cocked guns. "Whoah!" Jack repeated, bringing his free hand up, palm out, even as his gun hand remained steady. The two barrels trained on him didn't waver, their owners grim faces and scowling. "Alright, hold on, let's not anybody do anything stupid."
Suzie slid into place beside him with a low curse and two against two was better odds but Jack was far from in the mood. The two men they'd stumbled on were dressed like dock workers, rough trousers and worn coats, but the guns in their hands were well shined pieces and their aim was steady. There was something dark and shapeless tumbled in a heap on the paving stones behind them; goods or a body, Jack didn't really want to know - the districts around the docks dealt in both. "Think we're having a bit of a misunderstanding, here," Jack said, trying for a companionably calm tone.
The shorter and darker of the two spat out the tail end of a cigarette butt. "Only 'misunderstanding' is what you think you're doing on our ground," he said, deep gravel voiced and pure Welsh vowels. "This area's not for the likes of you."
"That," Jack replied hastily, "is where we're having the misunderstanding. Look - my name's Jack Harkness. The lady is Suzie Costello, and I assure you gentlemen I have absolutely cleared hunting rights on these docks with your boss. It's nothing to do with any of you and I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but we're sort of in a hurry. Can we talk about this later?"
"Can talk about it until the sun comes up," the other man shot back; "big words, big gent, doesn't mean a damned thing."
"Not if I blow your head off," Suzie growled under her breath, but Jack waved her back with a short gesture.
"We really don't have time for this," he sighed. "Fine - you want to ask your boss? Go ahead. Call the Spider. Tell him Harkness is hunting. I guarantee you he's going to tell you to get the fuck out of my way and forget you ever saw us."
It made them hesitate, the shorter man's frown deepening and the taller man darting quick, dubious glances between his superior and Jack. Jack held his breath, trying to will them into compliance, but in the end he didn't have to; a shadow detached itself from behind the men, resolving into a familiar crisp black suit and a black polished pistol. "Problem, sir?"
The two dock men jumped, the taller whirling to track the new threat, but three against two were odds anyone could calculate. Jack grinned, sharp and dry. "Nothing we can't handle, Ianto. Now, gentlemen, I'm going to ask you politely one more time - get out of the way. We've got no business with you and I'd like to get on with our real job."
There was one more beat of hesitation and then the shorter man raised his gun off of Jack with a growled curse. "As you like, then. It's lies, and the Spider'll have your guts for netting."
"He's welcome to them," Jack replied sweetly, "and you can give him my very fondest regards. Now if you'll excuse us, gentlemen - have a delightful rest of your evening and let's all hope we don't see each other again later. Suzie, Ianto..." He swept his team ahead of him with a smooth gesture, letting Suzie's quick steps led the way as they left the dock men behind.
"Thought you cleared this," Suzie said sharply, keeping her voice low.
"I did," Jack protested. "But the Spider's got a lot more people than our merry little group and I'm guessing nobody sent the memo around to Mutt and Ugly back there." He sucked in an irritated breath, blowing it back out through his teeth. "Took you long enough, Ianto."
"Sorry." Always the perfect picture of professionalism, it was hard to tell from tone whether the younger man meant it or not. "Took me a minute to realize you weren't behind me any more." He shrugged shortly, his own feelings working out through the sharp motion of his shoulders where it didn't display in face or voice. "Lost the target."
"Shit." Jack slowed their pace, tapping his mic back on. "Tosh? Toshiko, baby, sweetheart, tell me you've got good news for me..."
"Hold on a sec," Owen snapped. They could hear him in the background, voice low and urgent. "Tosh, honey, come on, you have to concentrate... no, baby, no, I don't care about that scanner, that was this morning, come on, it's Jack you've gotta focus on, there's a good girl..." and then, sharp and loud, "Got it! Headed back into the city - two streets up, turn right!"
"There's my brilliant girl!" Jack crowed and they were off, falling into place with an easy familiarity born of too many other hunts on other dark and wet nights until Jack sometimes wondered when it had become almost normal.
They found their target just beyond the docks proper and it had to be one of the uglier ones they'd had of late - seen beneath the street lamps it reminded Jack of nothing so much as a bizarre cross between a toad and a marmoset, flat faced with slick, oily mottled fur and too-large eyes that could never be mistaken for human despite the perfectly normal coat it had pulled over itself. Worse than it's face, however, were the thin, grotesque fingers, which were wrapped around what had to be the trigger of something large and entirely too deadly looking.
"Drop it!" he yelled, but it was more of a distraction than any real hope the think spoke a recognizable language - Look at me, he thought desperately as the thing swung the ugly muzzle of the heavy weapon towards him. Look at me, just keep looking at me...
Jack had just enough time to think yes and fuck, this is going to hurt as the thing's long, bony finger twitched and a sharp, teeth rattling hum powered up from the weapon before two shots rung out in near tandem - bang! and then bang! - from both sides and the creature dropped like a rock, blood splashing up black in the darkness from two head shots that tore through its skull like paper.
"...Well," Jack said a beat later, when he felt as though he could breathe again, "that wasn't one of our neater efforts."
"Sorry, sir," Ianto replied crisply and this time Jack was positive the other man didn't mean it one bit. "Can't always be spotless."
"I was thinking maybe a little less trigger happy," Jack sighed. "You know, ask questions first? It wouldn't hurt us to have new intel."
Ianto stepped carefully around the thing -- it looked considerably less intimidating in a heap on the pavement -- and the look he directed at the older man managed to be both serious and disbelieving all at once. "Point, sir," he allowed, "but it was aiming a weapon at you."
Jack scrubbed a hand across his face. "And we both know how much that means, Mr. Jones."
The younger man's mouth pulled thin. "Sir, Torchwood field operative rules state..."
"Yes, yes, yes," Jack interrupted testily. The adrenaline of the final burst of the chase was draining away quickly and in its place he was twice as aware of the damp chill and late hour. "Hello," he added, raising a hand in a wry wave, "Harkness the Eternal? Ring a bell? I'm pretty sure Yvonne wrote a waiver into the rules just for me."
He could swear Ianto sniffed slightly. "That is the Director's perogative, I'm sure, but I haven't seen it in writing."
It broke an unexpected laugh from Jack. "And that, ladies and deceased aliens, is why we all love you." He clapped the younger man on the shoulder and couldn't resist momentarily palming the other man's cheek, a gesture which Ianto stoically endured. "So damned cute! More by-the-book than a scout. And better looking besides." He brought his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "Speaking of our deceased friend - what's the word, Suzie?"
The reply from where his second was crouched down to examine their catch was a sound in an alarmingly high register, which made Jack blink and Ianto's eyebrows shoot up. "I... see," Jack drawled. "Is that an 'oh crap it's exuding poisonous acid gas and we're all going to be dead very shortly' sort of sound, or an 'I need some time alone with this' sort?"
Poisonous acid? Ianto mouthed at him silently, but Jack shook his head; Suzie had the thing's weapon in her hand and was turning it over with a reverence usually reserved for antique pre-War equipment and unusually expensive imported liquor.
"Suzie?" Jack tried again, his heart hitting a quickened beat - there were dozens of things he could think of that could go wrong and he'd gone that route before and it was never pretty - but the smile his second turned towards him was a delighted little girl grin, Solstice and New Years and her birthday all rolled into one. It was a smile Jack knew all too well and which made him snort, choking back a laugh.
"It's a welder," Suzie announced, cradling the construction tool turned would-be weapon like a baby. "It's a Jlaxactian welder, identical to those specs that came through last year. The one that can weld anything, metal, wood, stone..."
"All yours, Archivist Jones," Jack declared magnaminously.
Ianto shot him a sharp look that told him the younger man knew very well why Jack was pawning the issue off and communicated entirely new levels of disgust with his superior. "I'll just go back and bring the coach around," he announced, beating a quick retreat. Suzie made another sound, half protesting squawk.
"No! No, no, Ianto, say we can keep it, come on, you know we need it..."
Chuckling, Jack stepped a few feet away and toggled his headset back on. "Owen, Tosh? Target acquired, cleanup in process. No witnesses. Tell our baby girl she can rest those pretty eyes of hers."
"Someday she's going to clock you one, Jack, and I'm going to applaud," Owen replied, but a touch of relief took the bite out of the other man's tone. "Come on back when you're done, then. If you're lucky I might even put the kettle on."
Cleanup - whether it involved witness containment or just washing questionably colored blood into the sewers (there were a few jugs of water kept in the boot of the auto for just that reason) and bagging a body - was always somewhat anticlimactic. Jack shrugged out of his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves to help bag the body, which looked even more toad-like in death, albeit a very furry one. "Not one I recognize," he told Ianto as they were heaving it into the boot. "I'm sure Owen will enjoy it, but we really do need something that can answer a few questions at some point, if we have the opportunity."
The younger man was back-lit by the flicker of the streetlamp, but Jack thought he looked flushed. "I'll keep that in mind, sir," he replied. "When they're not armed and dangerous."
"Fair enough," Jack allowed. "And tell me you're not planning on shipping that piece back to London," he added in an undertone, tipping his head significantly towards where Suzie was still determinedly holding onto the alien welder. "You're going to have to pry it off of her, if you do. And she'll dismantle your coffee maker, every last bolt, in revenge."
Ianto let the lid of the boot drop shut with a clang and a subdued sniff. "Not if I get to her bank account first," he noted darkly, frowning. His gaze flickered towards Jack. "No offense, sir, but Director Hartman may have a point. At least partially."
Jack laughed. "What? That the Cardiff branch is run on bribery, anarchy, and insubordination?" Ianto shot him a look that was both sheepish and affronted and Jack grinned, all teeth and brilliance. "Don't give her all the credit for that one - I was hearing it from Headquarters back before she was in swaddling cloths. We've always been something of an odd duck out." He scooped up his coat from where he had draped it over the fender, shrugging the wool back on. "Don't worry," he added dryly, "Yvonne doesn't make it a habit to leave an archivist with us long enough for us to corrupt them."
Spinning away, he rapped the knuckles of one hand along the side of the coach. "Alright, we're wrapped here. Off we go." He threw a sudden grin back towards Ianto. "Do I get to drive?"
"No!" Suzie called from where she was already sliding into the back seat, the welder cradled in her lap. Ianto just rolled his eyes towards the ink black cloudy sky.
"Do you have a driving license, Captain? No? Then no, you don't."
Jack mock sighed, climbing into the passenger's side. "The way you lot go on about that you'd think some fundamental rule of driving had changed. Accelerator, brake, steering wheel. Only the cosmetics are different, I promise!"
"The horses don't like you, Jack," Suzie told him sharply. "And you cut it far too close in traffic. I'd like to make it back to the Hub alive, if it's all the same.
"Last I checked," Jack complained, "the 'horse' was a mechanical engine that didn't get a say. It's not my fault the fuel doesn't accelerate right. There's no power under the hood these days."
"And by 'these days'," Ianto said blandly, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the coach's engine with a practiced pump of the foot peddles, "I can only assume you mean 'since my great great gran's day or before the War', whichever came first."
Suzie bit back a laugh. "There," she declared. "I'm not the only one who's said it. Can we keep him, Jack? You want to stay, don't you, Jones? You'll see more action here then you would in boring old London."
"Thrilling," Ianto replied, deadpan, as he pulled the auto smoothly out of the alley and into the street, sleek black and smooth as a whisper in the late night. "I never knew so many ways of getting toxic blood stains out of good suits. I feel enriched."
It sent Suzie off into quiet laughter in the rear seat and Jack leaned his head back, grinning. It was wet and cold and late, with a dead alien in the boot, but it was a good night all the same.
The Torchwood Hub, deep under the old abandoned hulk of the pre-War ruins, was one of the better kept secrets in Cardiff - in no small part due to the Rift that Torchwood was there to monitor. Their parent branch in London occupied a restored pre-War high-rise along the wharves, and a sizable number of their offices were given over to the mojo workers who kept Torchwood's secrets safe from technological and mojo spies alike. Suzie, and every liaison officer before and including Ianto, had been taken aback at the Cardiff branch's cobbled together tech-only security and bare handful of staff.
"Don't need to protect it if it's already invisible," Jack liked to point out. The spatial-temporal Rift (and Jack liked saying that, liked the way it rolled off the tongue, much better than the previously termed 'Dimensional Rift' that had implied demons and darklings and other imaginary mojo things best left alone, instead of interesting things from other places and other times that were better studied and explored - Torchwood, for all Jack might complain, was one of the last, best bastions of proper scientific curiosity) that ran through Cardiff and directly underneath the ancient bunker tunnels beneath the ruins played merry havoc with mojo sight and provided the perfect cloak for Torchwood Cardiff's operations.
It didn't, however, hurt to have a hidden entrance or five, or walls and a door that could - and had - withstood bomb blasts, and an off grid mainframe protected by the best tech Jack could scrounge. One of those was from the underground bit of salvaged lot where they parked the coach and it was through that Jack and Ianto came, lugging the black bagged body of that night's target between them. "Honey," Jack caroled, dropping his own end on the floor, which forced Ianto to do likewise, "we're home! Brought you a present!"
"Not your damned 'honey'," Owen shouted back, his voice echoing across the large open central room of their Hub from the tiny kitchen nook . "And you took your sweet time." The doctor leaned out of the edge of the doorframe, broad mouth pressed tight and downturned in a habitual scowl that was most often directed at Jack. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, vest hanging unbuttoned, and a dish towel slung over one shoulder. "I see nobody's bleeding. Dare I hope this 'present' is a new bone cutter?"
"Better!" Suzie caroled, breezing past them on a course for the broad expanse of her work table, the welder still firmly in hand. "Way better!"
The doctor shot her a tolerant look. "If it's making her that happy I'm going to guess it's nothing I can use."
"'fraid not," Jack replied, nudging the bag with one toe. "Next best thing, though - toad demon!" The other man's expression remained unimpressed and Jack chuckled. "Oh, come on, Owen - it'll be just like dissecting frogs back in school. Only larger. And with more fur."
Owen rolled his eyes upwards, sighing. "Of course. You know, Jack, after they start you on human cadavers, the whole frog thing sort of loses its appeal."
"And on that note, I'll just bring it down to autopsy, shall I?" Ianto interjected brightly. "You can get started on it right away."
Owen's mouth turned further down but he nodded and Ianto, with a small sigh of his own, stooped to heft the bagged body. Jack clapped his hands together sharply and turned away, scanning the main room. "Alright, then... and where's my brilliant girl? Toshiko?"
"On the couch," Owen told him sharply. The smaller man came to stand beside him, hands wrapped around a steaming mug that smelled bitterly of inexpertly brewed coffee. "And don't you dare wake her. I just got her settled; blankets, hot bottle, good cup of tea. Let her sleep it off and she'll be fine."
Jack craned his neck to look and yes; there was a motley assortment of blankets and old quilts heaped on the battered sofa that was pushed against one wall, wrapped tight around a small lump that was topped with a rumpled mop of silk-dark hair, the only visible part of the huddled up seer. "Right, then," he said, softer. "So... target acquired, cleanup done, not much else for it once you put the thing on ice. We might as well call it a night."
"Sounds about right," Owen mumbled around the edge of his mug. "Except the police called while you were out."
Jack raised a brow. Their involvement and occasional liaison with the local police force was strained at the best of times, as the Cardiff superintendent took a dim view of outside organizations, certified by the Crown or not. "Oh, really? And what did they have to say?"
Owen crossed to one of the scattered work desks spaced through the area; Tosh's, covered with bits of salvaged tech and wires and tools and the half re-built hulk of an antique pre-war terminal. There were paper notes scattered through the pieces, mostly covered in Toshiko's small, neat handwriting. Owen snagged one from the top, his own sloppy scrawl standing out amid the cleaner notes, and held it out towards Jack. "Deaths," he said succinctly. "Six, as of today, spaced over the last two months. First few passed under radar, but now they're starting to think they're dealing with one of ours."