Better Natures: Memory

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Chapter One: In Which Events are Laid Out, But Nothing Is Resolved

TRANSCRIPT: DATED 19 MAY 2009
HARKNESS, JACK. CAPTAIN. [H]
INTERVIEWED BY: JONES, MARTHA. DOCTOR. [I] [Name blacked out on original document.]

I: All right, as we begin, can you state for the record your name, rank, and position?

H: Jack Harkness. Captain. Any position you'd care to see me in.

I: I'll have to take that up with my husband. What position do you hold at Torchwood?

H: I'm the head of Torchwood-3, Cardiff.

I: What prompted the incident? In your own words, please.

H: There was a lab accident involving a new, experimental form of Retcon, the drug we use to induce amnesia in people who have gotten too close to discovering Torchwood's secrets. While it had no effect on the rest of Torchwood-3's agents, including new recruits Mickey Smith and Dr. Martha Jones, the new formula interacted negatively with a vaccination I'd received as a child in the fifty-first century.

I: Can you describe these negative effects?

H: At first it just seemed to fatigue me. I was physically tired in a way that I haven't been since that night Ianto and I-

I: And after that? Stay on topic, please, Captain Harkness.

H: I was physically tired, and Ianto took me back to his flat so I could rest in a proper bed. Rest, [name omitted], nothing else, although don't think I didn't try. Anyway, Ianto had me back in his bed, and then he went off on a weevil hunt. I fell asleep, and after I woke up the other side effects became known: I'd lost my memory, going back approximately a hundred-fifty years -- not counting the two thousand years I spent in a semi-catatonic coma, buried underground -- to a point prior to my involvement with the Torchwood organisation. In fact, I assumed that I was working the twenty-first on a con, and that I'd blacked out a few days due to... overindulgence. It wouldn't have been the first time, after all.

---

Gunfire rang out across the Cardiff street, rubble scattered about from where the laser fire of the aliens across the way had come lancing toward him. Jack swore, strongly and vehemently, as he ducked back, glaring at his antiquated sidearm, wishing for his sonic blaster.

For that matter, why did he have an early twentieth-century pistol instead of his sonic blaster?

"Oi!" The call redirected his attention off to the side, forcing Jack to duck down further as a laser bolt hit perilously close to his hair. "What's all this, then? Aliens in Cardiff? I spend half my life missing aliens everywhere I go, and the minute I get to Cardiff, there they are? Why would I have to go to bloody Cardiff to meet aliens?"

Jack stared for a moment. "Get down!" he shouted, glancing around just long enough to see that, yes, he could leap, grab her, and get behind cover right over there.

The woman shrieked -- and, ow, Jack thought, having that right in his hear -- as Jack tackled her. "Let go of me!" she insisted. "Let go of me right now, or I'm calling in the police, just you see if I don't! I have rights! You can't just go tackling innocent women in the street!"

"I said, get down! You get hit with one of those, you're going to wish it was just someone tackling you!" He reached into his greatcoat -- and why was he wearing a greatcoat? -- and pulled out a second firearm. "You know how to fire one of these?"

The woman glared at him. "I'm a quick learner," she said, reaching for it. "C'mon, give it here."

Jack hesitated a moment. Giving a gun to someone completely inexperienced could lead to disaster. Still, there wasn't much choice -- he couldn't take down the attackers on his own, and having a second person from a separate vantage point could make all the difference. "Keep to the cover," he ordered, as he handed over the pistol. "Keep down, and be careful." The woman nodded, and although she claimed to have no experience, Jack saw that the gun settled very well in her hand. He glanced around, and, there, yes, a lull in the incoming fire. He ducked and rolled, back to his original cover among the rubble, and went back to returning fire.

The solid retort of a second pistol began to sound, and when Jack took two spare seconds to glance over, he saw the woman, her hair practically blazing in the harsh streetlights, looking up just long enough to sight and fire. Her form wasn't great, but when he looked back he could see that some of her shots, at least, were connecting with the apparently impervious-to-pain attackers. He swore, and went back to firing himself. "We're going to need some help here!" he called. "We can't take them alone!"

"Tell me something I don't know!" The woman huddled herself back behind her cover, her fiery glare once again directed at Jack. "Tell me you've got an idea for that?"

Jack was about to reply when, all of a sudden, the laser fire ceased and in a woosh of teleportation, the aliens disappeared. Jack and the woman stood up together, looking around. "Something tells me we've not seen the last of them," Jack said. "Whatever they're after, I don't think they've found it." He walked over. "Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced himself. "But you can call me Jack."

"Oh, can I?" the woman said. "Captain of what, Mr. Harkness?"

"... Y'know, no one's ever asked me that before?"

The woman snorted. "I thought as much. Donna Noble, Captain Harkness. Now. What the hell were those things?"

---

The Hub was, at the best of times, a whirlwind of activity. People were running left and right, experiments were being performed, aliens were escaping (well, only that one time. ... Two times. ... Okay, it was four, but Ianto continued to insist that Lisa didn't count because she wasn't actually an alien) -- in short, it was active, with people involved in something at all times.

Right now? Wasn't the best of times.

Gwen stood on the upper walkway, looking out over the people below. There was a frantic energy to everyone's actions, the chaos not so much familiar, comforting, as it was hectic. Jack was missing. Jack was missing, and it was their fault.

She could tell that everyone was blaming themselves for it: Ianto, for taking Jack home and leaving him; Martha, for experimenting with the Retcon to begin with; Mickey, for not being able to find him on CCTV.

Gwen, herself, for not being there to help when Jack needed her most.

"Tea, ma'am?" Ianto asked, sidling up with a steaming cuppa. "I thought it might be more appropriate than coffee, given the current... situation. We're all a bit wired already, I think."

Gwen took the cup gratefully. "That's perfect, Ianto, thank you." A sip, first, and then a larger one. Gwen could feel the warmth spreading through her; she always did forget how cold the Hub could get. In fact, it usually happened when Jack wasn't around, she realised. "Any word?"

"Martha thinks she's found the trigger in the Retcon that caused the problem. It's one of Jack's 51st century immunisations, one of the ones she's working on adapting for general use, actually." He paused. "General Torchwood use, at least. It's certainly not something we want getting out for public use."

Nodding, Gwen stepped back, away from the rail, and moved towards the stairs. "And there was an interaction?" she asked, knowing that Ianto would be following behind. "Something she didn't catch before."

"Looks like." Ianto stepped off the stairs right behind her, keeping perfect pace. "She's working on an antidote, but she said the test sample is degrading on its own, so it's likely that the effects will wear off on their own."

"Good news for us. Mickey! Any progress with the CCTV?"

"Just about to call up to you! I've found -- there's a patch of rubble over a couple of streets, looks like a serious firefight. No one's there now, but if I had to guess, I'd say Jack had to have been there."

"You're probably right. Mickey, grab the portable scanners. You and Ianto are with me. Martha, give us a call if you find out anything else." Nods all around from the team -- her team now, Gwen thought to herself, but Jack's team forever. Jack's team again, once they found him and forced some sense back into his head.

Not likely, that, but a girl could dream.

As they moved out to the car, Gwen pulled out her mobile and hit speed dial. "Rhys?" she said, as the other end was answered. "I'm going to be a bit late tonight. Possibly more than a bit. Jack's gone missing."

Once upon a time, saying that she'd be late getting home would have been cause for a fight. Even after the Space Whale incident, there had been tensions between them around the subject of Jack. Now, though, things seemed to have settled down, even gone in an odd and interesting direction, if Rhys's reply was anything to go by. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Rhys asked, his voice a bit tinny through the handset's speaker. "Another pair of eyes, even?"

"Not right now," Gwen told him. "Mickey and Ianto are joining me, and we've only got the three scanners. But you might give Martha a call, ask if she could use your help in the Hub." Jack wouldn't have liked it, but Jack be damned. Torchwood was hers, at least for the moment. "And Ianto's had a long day, so if I think he gets too tired, I'll have you come out to replace him."

"Want me to bring tea by? I've made up some cheese toasties. It's not much, but I can make a few more for the boys."

"That would be lovely, Rhys. We're heading out to a rubble site on Westgate, over by the Millenium Stadium. Meet us there? Half an hour?"

She could almost hear Rhys nodding on the other end of the line as she climbed into the front passenger seat. "I'll be there," he told her. "You can count on me."

Like you can't count on Jack, Gwen heard there, whether Rhys meant it or not. She wondered what it meant about Jack that she thought Rhys -- in her head, at least -- might be right.

---

The flat wasn't terribly large and it was still cluttered with the detritus of moving, but Jack couldn't help but admire it. There were already a number of little touches present: a framed picture hung by the entrance, a very small spice rack by the stove, a half-written grocery list stuck to the fridge with a gerkhin magnet. An open box on the kitchen table held, he saw as he passed, a full six-person setting of blue-patterned flatware. "Donna, you said?" he asked, leaning back against the doorjamb into the kitchen. "Donna Noble. A fine name for a fine woman. I don't suppose you've got any coffee, Donna Noble?"

"Well, isn't that just a man!" Donna replied, rolling her eyes as she reached into a cupboard for a tin of Folgers. "He follows you home and what does he do, first thing in the door? Asks you for something!" She put the kettle on, filling it from the tap, and spooned coffee crystals out into two mismatched mugs: one a bit larger, with Tinkerbell -- the Disney version -- in a series of poses, and the other a plain black. "Now," she said, filling the two mugs with hot water and handing one -- the Tinkerbell mug, Jack noted with a smirk -- to him. "Are you going to tell me what the hell those things were?"

"I wish I could tell you," Jack said, honestly, "but I don't actually know myself. To tell the truth, I don't even know what I'm doing in Cardiff. Last I remember, I was in London, mid-twentieth century."

He got a look for that. "Mid-twentieth century? So now I'm supposed to believe that you're a time-traveler, am I?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, you don't need to believe it, but I'd be more than happy to show you my time-ship." He paused. "When I can find it." If it weren't for the fact that the Time Agency wouldn't have just dropped him in the middle of Cardiff with absolutely nothing, he'd have suspected that this was another of their mindwipes, just like the two years he was already missing. "I don't suppose you've noticed anything like that? No, I don't guess you would have. Trust me, if I knew where it was, I would be offering myself up as host, and showing you just how hospitable I can be."

Donna snorted. "I just bet you'd try it," she replied, and took a sip of her coffee. "Don't think you're getting anywhere near there with me, Spaceman." Jack wasn't sure at the time, but when she said that, a flash crossed over her eyes like an exploding star in the depths of space. He chalked it up at the time to a trick of the light; she was moving when she said it, after all, and surely it was just her eyes catching something reflecting in through the window from outside. Later, of course, he realised what it was, and why it was so dangerous.

"Ms. Noble, you wound me!" Jack exclaimed, one hand coming up melodramatically to his chest. "I would never dream of impinging upon your person in such a manner!"

"Yeah, say it to someone who'll believe you, Spaceman." Donna drained the last of her coffee and rinsed out the mug, setting it in the drying rack. "Well, if you don't know what those things are, and I don't know what those things are, we're going to have to find out," she said. "And we'll have to find a way to stop them."

Jack nodded, grinning. "You are a most singular woman," he said, thankful that, of all those he could have been stuck with in this century, Donna was who he'd found. "So I guess our first order of business is to find my ship? I've got a tracker in there we might be able to use."

"Oi, and go all over Cardiff looking for something that might not even be there? No way, Jack. No, first place we go is my bedroom." Jack opened his mouth to comment on that, but Donna cut him off. "Which is where my computer is, Spaceman. Keep it in your pants. We're going to use the internet."

---

Navigating the little car through Cardiff was a struggle at the best of times for Sarah Jane Smith, who avoided the city as much as she could. Today, however, proved worse than normal: having a street so torn up and rubble-strewn that it could have come straight from a war zone tended to make it difficult to drive down. She glanced in the backseat, where Luke and Clyde were asleep, leaning against each other in a pose that made Sarah Jane wish her camera wasn't packed away in the boot of the car; photographic evidence would have made wonderful 'blackmail' material. She would need some kind of embarrassing pictures to show any of Luke's dates in the future, after all.

Well, unless the date was with Rani, or perhaps Maria, Sarah Jane noted to herself. Or Clyde, she allowed, too, as Luke hadn't really given her any indication one way or the other as of yet. All three of them had seen Luke in more that his fair share of embarrassing situations. And been involved in them, too, more likely than not.

"Mum?" came the call from the back seat, the word muffled with sleep as Luke slowly woke up. "Why are we stopped? Are we there?"

"Not yet, Luke," Sarah Jane replied. "There's a problem with the road." She noticed a police officer waving at her, trying to get her attention. "You stay here in the car, with Clyde," she continued. "I'll be back in just a moment."

Luke nodded, already drifting back to sleep. "'K, Mum." Sarah Jane smiled at them and got out of the car.

The police officer was walking towards her even as she stepped away from the car, Sarah Jane noted. "PC Davidson, ma'am," he introduced himself. "I'm afraid you'll have to go around another way. This street's closed." He glanced around. "Obviously."

"May I ask what happened?" Sarah Jane said, already pulling out a notebook. "Off the record, of course."

"Gang-related," PC Davidson replied, and the speed with which he came up with the answer had Sarah Jane thinking that it was likely a canned response. "We're not commenting on it any further."

Sarah Jane looked around a little more carefully, using all her training to look at what was there. "Gang-related, you say?" she asked, taking a step towards one of the larger chunks of rubble. "I don't know that there are very many gangs around, much less in Cardiff, that are using laser weapons." She knelt down, running one hand along a scar in the rubble. "Melted. Ionising laser, if I don't miss my guess. So, PC Davidson, off the record." She pulled out her wallet and flipped it open, revealing her newly printed UNIT ID card. "I'll ask again: what happened?"

PC Davidson opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything a voice came from behind them, cutting him off. "Aliens, of course," were the London-accented words. "I don't doubt you expected anything less, Sarah Jane Smith."

Sarah Jane whirled around, shocked to be addressed by name, but the voice did seem familiar- "Mickey Smith! As I live and breathe, it's good to see you."

"I'll take it from here, Andy," Mickey continued, nodding to Torchwood's unofficial police liaison. "She's one of us. Well, kind of."

Sarah Jane laughed. "I'll never be 'one of you,' Mickey. Too many guns." She looked down, significantly, at where his sidearm was holstered on his belt.

Shrugging, Mickey waved over to a couple of people, a man and a woman, where they were coming up the street. "Oi! Gwen, Ianto, over here!" he called, before replying, "Don't I know it. But it's good to see you! And you're just in time. Jack's missing."

"Missing?" Sarah Jane stared at Mickey for a long moment. "Don't tell me he's gone off with the Doctor again."

"He's still in Cardiff. At least, we hope he's still in Cardiff. Experiment went wrong, and he's lost his memory."

"It was retcon." The woman had come up, then, and she was holding out one hand, smiling. "Hello, Ms. Smith. Gwen Cooper. It's nice to finally meet you face to face."

Sarah Jane shook Gwen's hand. "Sarah Jane, please, Ms. Cooper," she said. "I don't take much stand on formality." She glanced back at the car, glad to see that Luke and Clyde still seemed to be asleep. "Retcon, you say? That's the... amnesia drug you've developed, yes?" Her tone betrayed her distaste, but she understood the thinking behind why they'd begun using it. "Jack took a dose?"

"Oh, call me Gwen. Ms. Cooper has me looking around for my mother." A quick jerk of her head had Mickey sighing and going off to help Ianto. "And yes, it is, but no, he didn't. Accident with a new form. You know he's from the future, yes? Fifty-first century?"

"I'd heard something about it, yes," Sarah Jane replied, smiling softly. "Something about his... physiology interacted with the new retcon?"

"One of his immunisations, apparently, or so Martha says. She's working on an antidote, but she said it's likely going to wear off on its own."

Sarah Jane nodded, taking in the information. "Well, I'm in town on a story," she said, "but whatever I can do to help, I will." She paused. "What exactly does this have to do with the aliens here?"

Gwen snorted. "If you were looking for Jack, wouldn't you follow the trail of destruction?"

"... I suppose you have a point, yes." A sound behind her -- a car door closing. Not slammed, but loud enough. Turning, she say Clyde coming towards her.

"Sarah Jane? What's going on?" he asked, looking around. "Don't tell me -- we come down on holiday, and there are aliens in Cardiff." Clyde laughed, holding out a hand to Gwen. "Clyde Langer," he introduced himself. "And if I don't miss my guess, you're Torchwood."

Sarah Jane looked stricken for a moment. "I'm sorry, Gwen. Luke told Clyde about Torchwood, I do hope-"

Gwen just shook her head. "It's all right. Jack's told us a bit about what you're doing, and if you trust your son and his friends with our secret, we can, too." She turned her attention back to Clyde. "Yes, I am Torchood. Part of it, anyway," Gwen agreed. "Sarah Jane, why don't you go back to the Hub for now? I'll have Mickey take you down, and you can catch up with Martha. And see if you can't connect the Hub systems to Mr. Smith?"

"Well, I was in town to work on a story..." Sarah Jane replied, but a pleading look from Clyde made her trail off. "Well, all right. My story can certainly wait, and it is, after all, Jack. Clyde, back in the car, I'll be along in a minute. And do wake up Luke?" Clyde nodded and turned around, heading back to the car. "We'll head by the hotel first," Sarah Jane said, "so that we can check in. I don't want to lose out on my reservation. That won't take long, though, and then I imagine Clyde and Luke would be more than happy to spend some time in the Hub. You're under Roald Dahl Plass, yes?"

"That's right," Gwen confirmed. "Shall I have Mickey meet you there, then, and take you down? Or would you like him to come along so he can direct you through town?"

"Probably best to have him come along," Sarah Jane said. She knelt down again to pick up a sample of the rubble, a small piece that she slipped into her purse. "I'll just bring this along. If we can identify the weapon used, it might help us to identify exactly who -- or what -- it was shooting up a Cardiff street. Until later, then, Gwen?"

"Until later, Sarah Jane." Gwen smiled, and stepped away. "Mickey will join you at your car in just a moment."

---

A search for "aliens AND cardiff" had turned up far too many options to even begin sorting through, and "aliens AND cardiff AND lasers" hadn't narrowed the results by much. It wasn't until Donna was opening some pages at random and sorting through them that she started noticing a thread popping up far too often to be a coincidence. "Torchwood?" she asked. "Why does that sound familiar? You haven't heard of it, have you?"

Jack shook his head, although he had to admit, even if only to himself, that the name did sound familiar on some level. "Not that I can remember," he said, "but, hey, maybe it's something else I've forgotten."

The search continued. When they added Torchwood to the criteria, the results didn't narrow appreciably, but the top results started to look more and more relevant. There were people talking about invasions, and about the terrorist attacks that had struck Cardiff several months ago. There were pages about rumours, some talking about the supposed 'Battle of Canary Wharf' -- "Oi, that was supposed to be mass hallucination," Donna said. "Something about chemical agents in the water supply." -- and a few bits and bobs about the former Lord Mayor who'd disappeared on the eve of her monumental, and fatally flawed, nuclear power plant project being opened. "Looks like there's a lot more going on in Cardiff than I expected." Donna closed the last of the tabs she'd opened, turning in her chair to face Jack. "But nothing about aliens opening fire in the middle of the day on unsuspecting passerbys."

"But at least we have somewhere to start, now," Jack pointed out. "If we can find more about this Torchwood, maybe start asking around, we might be able to track them down. It looks like a lot of people have different pieces of the puzzle, but not like anyone's managed to put them all together yet. What was that one place that kept coming up? Roald Dahl Plass? That might be the best place to start."

"It did sound likely, yeah," Donna agreed. "But first, there's something else we need to do."

"What's that?" As if on cue, Jack's stomach rumbled.

"That," Donna said, "would be tea. I'm famished, and it sounds like you're not far off."

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