Old Horizons, New Skies
MONDAY
There was something about the light that crept through Jack's eyelids that screamed hospital room. He lay with his eyes closed for a while longer, not quite wanting to face it. He really fucking hated hospital rooms.
When he finally forced himself to open them, it took approximately two seconds to confirm his hypothesis. All it really took was one look at the ceiling. There was a particular white paint that they used in the hospitals that didn't seem to exist anywhere else. He was almost willing to believe that the rift had dumped a load of alien paint somewhere in the NHS and they'd just decided to make the most of it.
If the ceiling hadn't given it away, the fact that he was in one of those horrible itchy hospital gowns would have.
At least he had a private room.
Although that did beg the question about where Jai had ended up.
He sighed; no time for that now. Better make the most of it, he thought, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He tested his legs for a second, but they seemed to be fine and in seconds he was searching the room.
His clothes were missing. Which was annoying. And a little bit worrying; it had taken months, and Tosh's particular brand of genius, to make his clothing practically indestructible.
Finally, giving up on his last hope that his coat might have been lurking under the bed, he pressed the call button and tried to strike an impressive pose - not an easy feat in a hospital gown, but if anyone could manage it, it was definitely Captain Jack Harkness.
As it was, the nurse looked slightly less impressed than normal, but that was still something he could work with.
"I know it's hard to resist getting me out of my clothes but you could have waited until I was awake. Much more fun. For both of us," Jack said just resisting adding a wink.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," the nurse replied with such a sense of utter disdain that Jack was, for a moment, completely floored.
"Well, I'm fine, no need to take up vital space. If you could just point me in the direction of my clothing..."
The nurse raised an eyebrow and, with an overly dramatic sigh, picked up the clipboard on the end of his bed.
"Mr Harkness," she said in the tone of the long suffering, "Our notes say that you're to stay here overnight. Despite either of our feelings on the matter, it's neither of our places to disagree with the doctors, so if you could just get back into your bed, go to sleep and leave those of us with work to do, to get on with it."
"Look, Nurse..." Jack paused for a second to read her badge, he was doing his best to remain charming, "Wilson, I'm with Torchwood so if you could just tell me where..."
"Torchwood?" She asked.
"There'll be someone here who knows who we are, if you want to check with..."
"Mr Harkness..."
"It's Captain Harkness."
"Mr Harkness, I don't have time for this, go to sleep, dinner will be along shortly. There will be jelly."
He'd had to flirt his way through five staff members to find someone with enough free time to track down his stuff. It was true what they were saying; the NHS was definitely overworked and understaffed. He was going to have to put that down as the reason he'd only, disappointingly, had two phone numbers pressed into his hand.
Also, the overworking, might explain why his clothing had mysteriously been stored in an office.
"Thanks, sweet cheeks," Jack winked at the blushing medical student and started to root through his clothing.
He dressed quickly, but paused for a moment as he strapped his Vortex Manipulator on, flicking it open. It was dark, only a dim light holding any promise of life. He pressed one of the less dangerous buttons experimentally, recieving a not very promising, 'Fzzzztt...' in response.
Oh well. It looked like he was going to have to spend a few more restless nights fiddling with it.
When he finally found his comm., it wasn't looking much better, but hopefully...
It whined lowly as he switched it on, the familiar sign of poor reception.
"Ianto?" He tried. "Gwen?"
It was no good.
"Don't suppose I could borrow your mobile?"
"Of course," the student, Beth, smiled and pulled it from her back pocket. "Err... just don't tell anyone I was carrying it with me."
It took a moment for the mobile to switch on, and the annoying tune that heralded it was still alive surprisingly loud in the quiet, still darkened room. Beth was biting her lip nervously, gazing through the doors glass window.
"Nurse Wilson might come," Beth murmured, "This is her office. I'll keep watch."
Jack dialled Gwen's number quickly, as Beth slipped from the office.
It rang four times and then Gwen answered.
"Hello," she answered, slightly breathless.
"Fat lot of good you two are," he told her, "Can't even track me down in a hospital."
"Errr..."
"Did you manage to catch Jai?"
"What?" Gwen asked, sounding confused.
"Who is it?" Jack heard Rhys ask.
"Don't know, some American."
"Gwen, what..." Jack started but he could hear Rhys talking again.
"You got another man, Gwen Cooper? Whoever it is, tell him to bugger off, I've not finished with you yet."
Gwen giggled.
"Get off," he heard her squeal, "This is why we can't live together."
And then she was back on the phone again. "Sorry, sorry," she gasped, "Can I ask who this is?"
Jack cut the call and stood, silent for a moment. Gwen had lived with Rhys for years. Something was very wrong. Outside he suddenly heard Beth start talking, trouble had obviously arrived.
"Nurse Wilson," Beth said quickly, "I've been waiting for you, I wanted to clarify something about the treatment of PCOS and I'd ask the doctors but they're useless, so I..."
"Have you seen the patient who was in Room 4D?" Nurse Wilson interrupted her sharply.
Jack lowered the phone slowly. And stared at the screen. The date was clear.
MONDAY
09/05/2005
"The American," Nurse Wilson clarified and Jack looked up sharply.
Fuck.
"Erm... don't think so," Beth lied.
The nurse swore, inventively.
"Damn lot of use you lot are. He wasn't supposed to leave the hospital, the police asked us to keep an eye on him. See if you can go find him."
The phone began to ring again. It was probably Gwen calling back, trying to find out who he was. Tracking him down.
It barely took a second to drop the phone, force the window open and fling himself outside. The door had only just begun to open.
"Who is this?" A thoroughly angry, surprisingly female, very Welsh, voice asked.
"Err..." Gwen said, "Sorry... An American just called me from this phone. But I think they must have got cut off..."
Or cut me off on purpose, she thought.
There was a pause at the other end of the phone. Somehow pointed. It spoke volumes. Someone was in trouble, or going to be.
"The American is gone," the woman told her a moment later.
"Right. Sorry to have bothered you."
Gwen thumbed her phone off and dropped it back in her bag.
"No luck?" Rhys asked, leaning in close and still looking smug from the tickle attack. She shook her head and kissed him quickly on the lips.
"You said it was an American bloke? That should narrow it down, if you know them," Andy asked.
"I don't think I know..." Gwen started, but Rhys interrupted.
"Well, you know, Gwen. There's always some pathetic, lovesick man throwing himself at her."
It was an oddly sharp comment, greeted only with silence for a moment. Andy took a deep gulp from his lager. He looked uncomfortable, huddled on a stool on the other side of the Pub table.
"So," he said a second later, "You're thinking about moving in together?"
"Errr..." Gwen paused uncomfortably. Andy had, only last week, suggested that maybe they could move in together and save some money. Personally she'd thought it was a terrible idea, Rhys would have been round all the time and him and Andy would probably end up killing each other. Plus Andy was a terrible cook. She'd fobbed him off with a rubbish excuse and had been feeling guilty about it ever since.
"Yeah, we've been talking about it," Rhys said.
"Rhys has mostly been talking about it," she corrected and decided to change the subject quickly.
"So what do you think was going on at work earlier?" she asked Andy.
"God knows, looked important though."
"What's this? Something actually happening in Cardiff?" Rhys asked, with a chuckle. Sounding much more himself.
"They brought some kid in this morning, covered in a blanket," Gwen told him.
"Could be a celebrity," Andy suggested.
"God knows," Gwen agreed. "I'd like to know what whoever it is has done though"
"Didn't you see his face when they released him?" Rhys asked. "Or shouldn't there be something written in, I don't know, the arrests book or something?"
"Nope. He hasn't been released and they've not charged him with anything yet, not publically anyway. They've got him locked in one of the cells at the end of the corridor and it's all locked off. Only the top brass are even let in there."
"Yeah," Andy grinned, "They wouldn't want us normal drones getting near our special guest. I heard they were calling someone in from one of the special branches."
"Well," Rhys moaned, "Now you can't just leave it there. I'm expecting you both to go super sleuthing for me tomorrow."
It was a normal busy evening in Cardiff. The streets filled with enthusiastic drunks. A normal busy evening in Cardiff nearly five years ago.
Which probably meant that Jai's wrist strap still had time travel capabilities and Jack had got caught up in the over wash.
Jack had been wandering without much purpose since he'd escaped from the hospital, though his feet, as always, had led him back to the Plass.
Another thing to worry about.
Not only did he have to avoid himself (which, as there were now three copies of himself in Cardiff, was going to be difficult enough), but he had to track Jai down, who could be more or less anywhere in time or space, which might be near enough impossible.
Before Jai had appeared again, he'd managed to re-jig his own wrist strap enough to reactivate the teleporter, but there was nothing he could do about the time travel, not for another 167 years at least... make that 171 years now.
There was no denying it, he needed to go to Torchwood. Torchwood One. They'd have the knowledge and technology he needed. And, annoyingly, the easiest way to do that was to talk to himself. The danger of Torchwood One discovering there were two of them, otherwise, wasn't worth thinking about. Yvonne Hartman would have a field day.
Of course talking to himself came with a whole other basket of problems. And not the ones psychiatrists usually worried about.
May, 2005.
It had just been him and Suzie then. Yvonne had still been holding onto the purse strings like a rabid Rottweiler and refusing them enough funding to pay another person. It had been another two months before Suzie had found Toshiko.
God. Toshiko was still in prison. She was still alive. So was Owen.
And that was the problem.
He could save them -- warn his past self about Grey or tell himself not to tempt them into Torchwood in the first place. Save them all that pain. But it was complicated. It always was.
And then there was Suzie. He knew how that ended. If he didn't tell himself then all those people would still die and it would be his fault. But if they stopped her now, then Gwen would never find them.
What was he supposed to say? Yeah, Suzie, bit twisted, but you'll want to keep her around because after her you get Gwen and she's bloody marvellous.
And I need her.
But he'd felt that way about Suzie once. And maybe he could save her now. But how was he supposed to choose between them? And how could he face Suzie, knowing what she'd become... What he'd make her.
It was like when Alice and Charlie had dug him up. He'd known that six years later there'd be the earthquake and they'd all die and he could have stopped it. Made sure they'd all be safe. But he hadn't. He'd said nothing.
And they'd still died, just as they had before, but now it was his fault. The responsibility fell on him heavily. It always did.
Of course all that was just, he told himself angrily, trying to find excuses to not do what he had to.
There was nothing else for it. He needed to go to the Hub.