months ago.
Hell, they’d even built a new Boardroom! How cool was that?
How cool it’d be if he could get there now. It was defendable.
But here in these corridors with their junctions, shadows, low ceilings and sudden maze-like twists and turns, he felt dead vulnerable and hopelessly lost. He was running, probably for his life.
And who from?
He’d been in the Hub, talking to Gwen, when Ianto had called him on his cell phone. Mobile. Whatever.
‘Where the hell are you today?’
‘Jack – you gotta get out of there,’ Ianto had yelled, loud enough that the others had heard him.
Jack gave Owen and Gwen an ‘oh my god, has he been drinking’ look and told Ianto to calm down.
‘Who’s with you?’
‘Owen and Gwen. Tosh is down in the Boardroom. Oh, and the Weevils are in the Vaults, as normal. I think that’s it. You OK?’
‘Get. Out. Jack. Now!’
Suddenly the phone reception screeched and went dead. Jack nearly dropped his phone.
Gwen shot a look at Owen. ‘I’ll go find Ianto,’ she said and, before Jack could stop her, she was gone.
Except for that brief moment when she stopped by the rolling door and looked back at him.
Just for a second.
One look.
By the time the door had rolled closed behind her, Jack had the Webley out and ready.
And then he had started running.
Now he was lost in the corridors. He slowed to a halt, pausing while he tried to work out where he was, tried to come up with a plan.
He felt the hard steel of a pistol on the back of his head.
‘Owen? What exactly is going on?’
‘Don’t move, Jack. I’m sorr y. God, I’m really, really sorry, but you don’t understand what we’re doing here.’
‘Too damn right I don’t.’
‘Please, Jack.’
That was Toshiko. So she was in on it, too. Whatever ‘it’ was.
‘Another coup, Owen? This is getting really tired.’
‘Jack, you’ve got to understand, we’ve found a way to help the world.’
‘I thought we were already doing that.’
Toshiko came into view. ‘No, we mean really help it. Change it. Make ever ything better. Instead of just squirreling everything away, we could actually use it to better mankind.’
Jack just shrugged. ‘Heard that before, guys. It’s what brought down the Institute in London. I thought we were better than that.’
Owen nodded, understanding Jack’s concerns. ‘And that’s why we need you. Our moral compass. They never had that. They never had you.’
‘And what do I need to do for your brave new world, Owen? What’s the price? Cos I’ve been around, you know. I realise there’s always a price.’
Owen and Toshiko glanced at one another.
‘And Gwen?’ Jack continued. ‘Is she OK with this?’
‘Gwen’s… undecided, if I’m being honest,’ said Toshiko.
‘Honesty, well that’s good. Keep with the honesty programme, Tosh, and tell me what you need me for. Cos I have a feeling I’m not gonna like it.’
‘You’re right, Jack,’ Owen said, in a suddenly calm and strong voice. ‘You’re not.’
Jack saw his eyes. Solid black, like the heart of a black hole had consumed him from inside. He looked at Toshiko. She was the same.
‘Shit,’ said Jack, and Owen shot him dead, straight through the forehead.
When Jack awoke, he couldn’t move.
He opened his eyes, but he was in an opaque nothingness, although it was solid, he was sure of that. He tried moving. Nope, held rigid, and all he could do was look slightly left or right with his eyes. Nothing else moved, although he could feel his body.
So he was trapped, encased in something that held him still.
He became aware of tiny pinpricks on his skin, like a million tiny needles painlessly pressing against him.
After more than 150 years, Jack knew his own body, he knew every millimetre of skin and muscle and tissue and how it should feel at any given moment. And whatever this was, it was wrong.
Something loomed into view above him, misshapen, distorted. It spoke, the sound distorting through whatever it was that held him there. He realised it was Owen Harper, his eyes still consumed by the black.
‘Jack,’ he was saying. ‘Not sure if you can hear me, but every few hours, you’ll suffocate. And then come back to life.’
Wasn’t the first time that trick had been tried, Jack thought ruefully. But why?
‘And when that happens, the energies your body gives off will enable us to open the Rift and, more importantly, control it. We are going to use the Rift to build a new Torchwood Empire and make Earth a better home for everything trapped upon it.’
Interesting use of words. So whatever was inhabiting the others, it was trapped here.
Jack noted to himself that he’d automatically dismissed the notion that Toshiko and Owen and probably Gwen were doing this voluntarily. Something had taken them over.
Good. At least he wasn’t being betrayed by his team.
He realised that the pinpricks were tiny wires into his skin, and that this had been worked out meticulously. And no matter how good Toshiko and Owen were, bless ’em, they couldn’t have achieved this with just their technological savvy.
Aliens? Rift aliens? Something else?
It didn’t matter. He was trapped, and encased in some kind of holding prison, unable to move and would, eternally, be living and dying and powering the aliens and their plans.
Great.
There was nothing he could do. Except wait for help from Ianto or someone else.
Jack smiled. Because he knew that Ianto would find a way. Because he was Ianto.
A long time passed. A lot of deaths and rebirths. Jack had no idea of time or space any longer – it was all he could do to keep sane.
Then, one day, a series of cracks appeared in the compound that held him.
He heard lots of noise, gunfire perhaps, and clearly some bullets had hit the thing he was in.
His vision clouded with scarlet. Had he been shot? No, no someone else had, directly above him, on the surface of the compound.
He knew then that Ianto was dead. Somewhere inside his head he felt something sever and die.
And he understood. Ianto had got himself shot, somewhere above him, deliberately. Knowing that his sacrifice was the only way to break the compound holding Jack.The crimson running across his vision and down tiny splinters in the compound towards him was Ianto’s blood.
Jack felt himself tense. Anger, hurt, pain, betrayal, fury. All of those came together as his cheek felt a drop of Ianto’s blood hit it.
Summoning every primal ounce of strength in him, Jack Harkness screamed in rage and pushed himself up, ignoring the searing pain as the compound shattered and sliced into him, ignoring the awful sensation of pure light hitting his eyes, blinking away the brightness and the blood.
He was standing there, threads of wiring torn away from his body, facing a group of armed guards, suited workers and Toshiko, her eyes now black, her face snarling.
‘Kill him,’ she screamed.
As if in slow motion, the guards raised their automatic weapons, but Jack was driven by something more powerful than good sense or logic.
