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daylight_darknight) wrote2015-10-24 11:57 am
daylight_darknight) wrote2015-10-24 11:57 am
Entry tags:
[Torchwood/Doctor Who Fic] What Lies in Wait 5/17
Yay! Another Chapter! Not that anyone is actually reading this but that may be a good thing since then I don't have all these people waiting for me to finish editing. The story seems to have recently acquired a soundtrack of beautiful and gloomy Olafur Arnalds songs or at least listening to them seems to be helping me with my editing. Maybe I'll put it up at some point. Okay, on to the next chapter.
Title: What Lies in Wait
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Martha, Mickey, 8th Doctor
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for swearing, violence, and scary stuff. Vague mentions of off screen torture.
Genre: Mystery, Angst, Horror
Word Count: This chapter 3000 (Total 59,000 at the moment)
Spoilers: Takes place after the Doctor Who episode Journey's End and after the 8th Doctor audio To the Death.
Summary: When Martha agreed to help Jack do a little inventory she wasn't expecting to find a Time Lord frozen in his basement and she certainly wasn't expecting what happened when they woke him up.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
“Okay, so how the hell do you track down a missing Tardis that's been hanging around Cardiff for 82 years?” Jack stood in the main hall of the Hub, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair in frustration.
Sitting at the desk which had once belonged to Toshiko, Mickey leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “How 'bout we start by googling mysterious blue boxes found in the 1920s?”
Jack sighed. “Remind me again why I thought hiring you might be a good idea.”
“'Cause nobody else would be crazy enough to take the job?” Mickey suggested with a cheeky grin.
Jack gave him a look.
“Hey. Remember I haven't said 'yes' yet.” Turning back to the computer, Mickey began typing away. “Don't worry 'bout it, boss. This isn't the first time I've done this sort of thing. Of course, it would be a lot easier if one of your alien gizmos could lead us right to it.”
“No such luck,” said Jack. “If I had such a thing, it would have solved a lot of my problems a long time ago.”
“Old fashioned way it is then,” said Mickey with a nod.
Information flashed by on the computer monitors as Mickey searched through the many databases Torchwood had access to. Behind him, Jack began pacing back and forth, teeth grinding together as he tried to think of other avenues they could try. It wasn't long though before his thoughts were interrupted as Ianto appeared from the direction of the autopsy room.
“I trust our guest liked his tea,” said Jack noting the empty cup Ianto was carrying.
“He did,” Ianto confirmed.
“The Doctor has always appreciated a good cup of tea.”
“Actually, he was a lot more appreciative of my tea than most people around here.”
“Hey,” Jack protested. “I appreciate your tea.”
“If you say so, sir,” Ianto replied noncommittally.
Jack gave a mock pout. “I'll have you know...”
All the lights in the Hub suddenly flickered and the monitors flashed off and then on again.
“What was that?” asked Mickey. “You forget to pay the electricity bill?”
Jack moved over to the other workstation and checked a few readouts. “It looks like it was just a fluctuation in the power output from the generator.”
“It probably needs maintenance,” said Ianto. “We haven't done it in awhile. We've been a bit busy.”
Mickey snorted. “And I thought you people were so high tech.”
Suddenly, there was a loud sneeze from behind them. They swung around to see Gwen heading towards them with a large pile of folders in her arms.
“I don't feel very high tech right now,” she observed and then sneezed again. “God, judging from the mounds of dust down there I don't think anyone has bothered to look at these since they were made.” She dropped the folders onto her desk.
“Find anything interesting?” asked Jack.
“Maybe.” Gwen pulled a folder from the pile. “Apparently, whoever removed the files from April 1927 weren't quite as careful as they thought they were being.”
“They miss something?”
“Yup,” Gwen declared handing him a yellowing piece of paper. “Whoever was in charge of the paperwork at Torchwood in those days was particularly meticulous including keeping a record of all leave time taken by any Torchwood employee.”
Jack's eyes quickly scanned the paper. “Three Torchwood employees all had leave from April 27th to the 30th? Who was left at the base?”
“Allan Gregerson,” said Gwen. “All other employees were away on assignment.”
Jack shook his head. “There's that name again. What do we know about this guy?”
Gwen shoved aside the paper files on her desk in favour of using her computer once more. “Allan Gregerson. Born in 1888 in Glasgow, but grew up in York. Studied physics and engineering until World War I started and he was drafted. Apparently after a year, he was put in some sort of special forces group. Joined Torchwood shortly after the war ended. Was put in charge of Torchwood Three in 1923 when the previous leader, Catherine Watson, was eaten by a giant alien jellyfish. Eww.”
“Nasty business that,” said Jack nodding solemnly though there was a slight upward twitch of his lips.
“You Torchwood people have all the fun,” said Mickey.
“Anyway,” Gwen continued. “He was then declared missing... May 1, 1927.”
Jack's eyebrows raised. “Around the same time the Doctor was put in stasis. Yeah, I'm not going with coincidence on that one. What else do we know about this guy?”
“It'll take a little while for me to go through all his file in depths, but he looks like a pretty average Torchwood employee. No family or significant other. Addicted to his work. Stopped his fair share of alien incursions.” Gwen scanned the information on her screen as she spoke, but then she stopped suddenly and turned to look at Jack. “But you must have known him.”
“Well, yeah,” Jack admitted somewhat reluctantly as he always was when discussing his past. “But I spent a lot of that time on long distance assignments so I only worked with him a few times and that was a long time ago.”
“So what was he like?” Gwen asked.
Jack's forehead furrowed in thought. “He kept to himself mostly. Strict. Fastidious. Didn't like any nonsense.” He smirked. “In other words, a lot of fun to rile up. I also remember he had a bit of an obsession with the Rift, thought we could put its power to good use. Nothing came of that though. Oh, and he had a bit of a temper but he mostly reserved that for the aliens he encountered.”
“What sort of a temper?” asked Ianto.
“Nasty and violent. What are you...” he began but then stopped as realization and then anger flashed across his features. “Find out everything you can on him,” he said through gritted teeth. “Especially see if you can find anything else about his disappearance.”
“Got it,” Gwen acknowledged refocusing on her computer.
Just then the lights flickered again.
“Damn it,” cried Jack glaring at the ceiling. “This is not what I need right now.”
“Maybe you should get a repairman in,” said the Doctor from behind him.
Jack spun round.
The Doctor stood at the entrance to the autopsy room, Martha at his side. The Time Lord looked much better than he had in cryosleep, less pale, more alive, but the mess of dark hair on his head and the stubble on his chin still left him looking ragged and worn. He had redonned his leather coat, but had left it undone revealing the blood stained shirt beneath.
Jack took a deep breath getting his temper back under control. “Hey, Doc. What the prognosis?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” the Doctor declared. He gazed around the main hall, eyes taking in everything. “I like what you've done with the place. Just the right amount of dank, gloomy, oppressiveness you need for an underground lair such as this.”
“Thanks, I think,” replied Jack. He sidled over to Martha as the Doctor began wandering about the room studying the various alien technologies and eclectic decor that made up the Hub. “What's your opinion, Dr. Jones?” he asked quietly.
Martha kept her eyes on the Doctor as she whispered back to him. “His systems show some minor strain from his abrupt revival but for the most part he seems fine. I'm not exactly an expert on Time Lord physiology though.”
“I doubt anyone is.”
“Some of the burns and lacerations were pretty nasty but I cleaned them up and they seem to be healing already.”
“Time Lords are made of tough stuff.” Jack watched as the Doctor picked up a Thornian radiation shifter the team had recently recovered. The Doctor studied the shifter, made a face at it, and then put it back down. “So what do you think of this version of the Doctor?”
“I don't know,” said Martha. “He's the Doctor. I have no doubt about that, but he's also different. He's a lot more solemn and subdued then I'm used to.”
“He was just tortured and put in cryostasis for 82 years,” said Jack. “That would put a damper on anyone's mood.”
“I know but there's also something...” Martha stopped and shook her head. “Sorry. I'm probably just overthinking things.”
Jack put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “I get it,” he said. “I worry about him too.”
The Doctor was currently examining Ianto's coffee maker which seemed to be making the Welshman rather nervous. Jack was just wondering whether he should intervene when a sudden screech from above made all heads jerk up.
Torchwood's pet pteranodon had emerged from its habitat high above them and was stretching its wings swooping around the pillar of the silver water tower that went through the centre of the hall.
“You have a pterodactyl living in your ceiling,” the Doctor observed a touch of wonder in his voice.
Jack smiled. “His name is Myfawny.”
The Doctor's eyes lit up and his face was split by a large grin. “Brilliant,” he said. “I love pterodactyls. They always remind me of vortisaurs.”
Jack raised an eyebrow incredulously. “And that's a good thing?”
“What the hell are vortisaurs?” asked Mickey.
“Carion feeders that live in the space-time vortex,” Jack explained. “They can be a time traveller’s worst nightmare if they decide you would make a tasty meal.”
“Oh, they're not that bad if you get one away from the pack,” said the Doctor still watching Myfawny. “We used to ride them bare-back while I was at the academy.”
Mickey snorted. “Why am I not surprised.”
Martha and Jack exchanged grins.
The Doctor walked around the water tower continuing to gaze up at the ceiling. “2009. What's above us now?”
“Roald Dahl Plass, the Senedd, the Millennium Centre,” Gwen helpfully provided.
“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.”
“Sorry,” said Gwen, confused.
“Roald Dahl,” explained the Doctor absently. “A very complicated man.”
The Doctor suddenly stopped his wandering and stood still in the middle of the room staring at the rift manipulator with an odd expression on his face.
“Doctor?” Jack said approaching him hesitantly.
“The Rift,” said the Doctor. “I'd forgotten. There's something...” He trailed off and then continued in a voice that was almost a whisper. “Memory's a funny thing you know.”
“What exactly do you remember?” asked Jack.
“Well, that would be the problem,” the Doctor replied. “What I remember seems to be in bits and pieces. I really wish people would stop messing with my head. It keeps getting harder and harder to put it back together again.”
“Anything would help,” said Martha.
The lines on the Doctor's face deepened as he concentrated on bringing forth the hazy memory. “I remember...finding the Balavastrans. They were a nice lot, gave me some home made gyera bread. I remember helping them repair their ship, and then the humans with their anachronistic weaponry arrived and declared they were there to kill everyone and take the ship. They said they were called Torchwood.” He gazed at the wall where Torchwood was written in large letters.
Gwen and Ianto both looked somewhat uncomfortable at that statement, but Jack's face remained forced into a stony mask.
“I stopped them, of course, with a bit of trickery which was fairly ingenious if I do say so myself.”
Mickey made a sound that was half snort, half laugh.
“But you obviously don't want to hear about that,” the Doctor continued giving Mickey an exasperated look. “Once the Balavastrans had left, I thought I'd take a look into this so called Torchwood. Humans in the 1920s with knowledge of aliens, high tech weaponry, and a penchant for killing concerned me. I found the base. This place presumably.”
Jack nodded. “The Hub's been here for over a century.”
“Right on top of a temporal rift which left me even more concerned. I remember finding my way in...” The Doctor hesitated scratching his head. “Somehow, I must have gotten caught. I have vague memories of someone demanding to know who I was. I didn't particularly like their tone so I decided not to tell them.”
Martha and Mickey both rolled their eyes.
“That's not always the best course of action,” Jack pointed out.
“Maybe,” said the Doctor. “I also remember someone being very angry with me.”
“This guy?” With a few keystrokes, Jack brought up the image of Allan Gregerson on one of the monitors.
The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed at the picture. “That's the man. He wanted something very badly.” The Doctor shook his head becoming frustrated. “I can't remember what it was. Who is he anyway?”
“His name was Allan Gregerson.” Jack brought up the information from the man's file onto the monitor. “He was in charge of Torchwood when you were taken. He also disappeared a day or so after you were put in stasis.”
“Now, that I definitely don't remember.”
“All records of that time are missing,” Ianto explained. “Someone, probably Gregerson, didn't want anyone finding out about you.”
“Which means we're going to have to dig even harder to find out what the hell happened,” said Mickey.
“How's the search for my Tardis coming?” the Doctor asked switching the subject as swiftly as only he could.
“It would be going a lot better if you remembered where you parked it,” said Mickey. He swung around in his chair back to the computer and began tapping away once more. “I don't exactly have a lot to go on.”
“Mmm,” said the Doctor thoughtfully. “By the seaside?”
“Somewhere by the seaside in Cardiff in 1927,” Jack reiterated. “I guess it's better than nothing.”
“Yeah, but that's what I've got so far,” countered Mickey, “a big fat lot of nothing.” He stabbed a few finally times at the keyboard before slumping back in defeat. “From what I've heard,” he said addressing the Doctor. “You've lost the Tardis loads of times. You've got to have some method of finding it.”
“I used to have a Tardis tracker,” said the Doctor. “But I lost it somewhere inside the Tardis. I always meant to build a Tardis tracker tracker but I never got around to it.” The Doctor sighed. “Well hopefully, the old girl will find her way back to me somehow. She usually does. Maybe we'll find her if we find out more about this Allan Gregerson. He might have taken her.”
Jack frowned going over the idea in his head. “How would he have know where the Tardis was?”
“Well, he wouldn't unless I told him.” A hand suddenly flew to the Doctor's mouth. “Oh, dear.”
“What?”
“I think I may have told him.”
Several incredulous looks were given.
“But why...?” began Martha.
“I don't know. I don't know,” the Doctor said quickly.
“More memories coming back?” asked Jack.
“A few,” he said frustration underpinning his tone. “Nothing very useful I'm afraid.” He rubbed his left arm where beneath his coat wounds were still healing.
“I guess it's back to hard research then,” said Jack. “Okay, here's what we're going to do...”
Suddenly, the lights flickered again.
“Damn it,” exclaimed Jack.
“Having some problems?” asked the Doctor, a hint of curiosity in his tone, the idea of some new mystery a welcome distraction from his own troubles.
“It's nothing,” Jack insisted.
The lights flickered off, then on, then off, then on again. The computers rebooted themselves.
“Probably nothing.”
At her workstation, Gwen ran a few system diagnostics trying to see if she could find the cause behind the power fluctuations. “Jack, did you know there's been several energy spikes in the readings from cold storage over the past couple hours? Do you think it's related to our generator problem?”
“It shouldn't be.” Jack peered over her shoulder to see the readings for himself. “Cold storage has its own power source. Not to mention separate back-up power sources for each individual unit.
“Maybe it's just a consequence of us opening so many of the units this morning,” suggested Ianto.
“Maybe,” Jack replied though he sounded unconvinced.
“Should we check it out?” asked Gwen.
Jack hesitated. He automatically looked to the Doctor, searching for either support or reassurance, but he couldn't read what was in this new Doctor's eyes. “That's probably a good idea,” he said. “But I'm sure it's nothing, just some loose wiring, or something.”
The lights flickered again, and then went out completely. The room was filled with an immense silence as all machines immediately died.
“Or something,” came Mickey's voice from the dark.
A second later the emergency lights came on though the light they gave did little to dispel the gloom that had overtaken everything. At the same time, there were also several loud and final sounding metallic clunks.
“What was that?” asked Martha, her eyes wide.
“That would be the Hub going into lockdown mode,” said Ianto who had already fetched several torches and was handing them out to everyone.
“What?!”
“It happens automatically when the power is cut,” explained Gwen.
“Well, Captain,” said the Doctor, his pale face looking ghoulish in the dim light. “It seems your problems will have to take precedence over mine. Would you like me to look at your generator? I've got quite a dab hand at this sort of thing, but you probably already knew that.”
“It's not like I could forget,” said Jack. Turning to take everyone in, he clapped his hands together. “Alright, here's what we're going to do,” he said aware he was repeating what he'd said seconds before it had all gone to hell. “The Doctor and I will take a trip down to the generator. Ianto, Martha, take a look down in cold storage, make sure the generator down there isn't having similar problems and make sure those energy spikes were just a meaningless coincidence. Gwen, Mickey, stay here and see if you can do anything on this end, like getting those doors open. Everyone got it?”
There was a round of nods.
“Have you always enjoyed giving orders this much?” asked the Doctor.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Come on, Doc. Let's go.”
“Oh, please,” replied the Doctor, “after you.”
Chapter 6
Title: What Lies in Wait
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Martha, Mickey, 8th Doctor
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for swearing, violence, and scary stuff. Vague mentions of off screen torture.
Genre: Mystery, Angst, Horror
Word Count: This chapter 3000 (Total 59,000 at the moment)
Spoilers: Takes place after the Doctor Who episode Journey's End and after the 8th Doctor audio To the Death.
Summary: When Martha agreed to help Jack do a little inventory she wasn't expecting to find a Time Lord frozen in his basement and she certainly wasn't expecting what happened when they woke him up.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
“Okay, so how the hell do you track down a missing Tardis that's been hanging around Cardiff for 82 years?” Jack stood in the main hall of the Hub, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair in frustration.
Sitting at the desk which had once belonged to Toshiko, Mickey leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “How 'bout we start by googling mysterious blue boxes found in the 1920s?”
Jack sighed. “Remind me again why I thought hiring you might be a good idea.”
“'Cause nobody else would be crazy enough to take the job?” Mickey suggested with a cheeky grin.
Jack gave him a look.
“Hey. Remember I haven't said 'yes' yet.” Turning back to the computer, Mickey began typing away. “Don't worry 'bout it, boss. This isn't the first time I've done this sort of thing. Of course, it would be a lot easier if one of your alien gizmos could lead us right to it.”
“No such luck,” said Jack. “If I had such a thing, it would have solved a lot of my problems a long time ago.”
“Old fashioned way it is then,” said Mickey with a nod.
Information flashed by on the computer monitors as Mickey searched through the many databases Torchwood had access to. Behind him, Jack began pacing back and forth, teeth grinding together as he tried to think of other avenues they could try. It wasn't long though before his thoughts were interrupted as Ianto appeared from the direction of the autopsy room.
“I trust our guest liked his tea,” said Jack noting the empty cup Ianto was carrying.
“He did,” Ianto confirmed.
“The Doctor has always appreciated a good cup of tea.”
“Actually, he was a lot more appreciative of my tea than most people around here.”
“Hey,” Jack protested. “I appreciate your tea.”
“If you say so, sir,” Ianto replied noncommittally.
Jack gave a mock pout. “I'll have you know...”
All the lights in the Hub suddenly flickered and the monitors flashed off and then on again.
“What was that?” asked Mickey. “You forget to pay the electricity bill?”
Jack moved over to the other workstation and checked a few readouts. “It looks like it was just a fluctuation in the power output from the generator.”
“It probably needs maintenance,” said Ianto. “We haven't done it in awhile. We've been a bit busy.”
Mickey snorted. “And I thought you people were so high tech.”
Suddenly, there was a loud sneeze from behind them. They swung around to see Gwen heading towards them with a large pile of folders in her arms.
“I don't feel very high tech right now,” she observed and then sneezed again. “God, judging from the mounds of dust down there I don't think anyone has bothered to look at these since they were made.” She dropped the folders onto her desk.
“Find anything interesting?” asked Jack.
“Maybe.” Gwen pulled a folder from the pile. “Apparently, whoever removed the files from April 1927 weren't quite as careful as they thought they were being.”
“They miss something?”
“Yup,” Gwen declared handing him a yellowing piece of paper. “Whoever was in charge of the paperwork at Torchwood in those days was particularly meticulous including keeping a record of all leave time taken by any Torchwood employee.”
Jack's eyes quickly scanned the paper. “Three Torchwood employees all had leave from April 27th to the 30th? Who was left at the base?”
“Allan Gregerson,” said Gwen. “All other employees were away on assignment.”
Jack shook his head. “There's that name again. What do we know about this guy?”
Gwen shoved aside the paper files on her desk in favour of using her computer once more. “Allan Gregerson. Born in 1888 in Glasgow, but grew up in York. Studied physics and engineering until World War I started and he was drafted. Apparently after a year, he was put in some sort of special forces group. Joined Torchwood shortly after the war ended. Was put in charge of Torchwood Three in 1923 when the previous leader, Catherine Watson, was eaten by a giant alien jellyfish. Eww.”
“Nasty business that,” said Jack nodding solemnly though there was a slight upward twitch of his lips.
“You Torchwood people have all the fun,” said Mickey.
“Anyway,” Gwen continued. “He was then declared missing... May 1, 1927.”
Jack's eyebrows raised. “Around the same time the Doctor was put in stasis. Yeah, I'm not going with coincidence on that one. What else do we know about this guy?”
“It'll take a little while for me to go through all his file in depths, but he looks like a pretty average Torchwood employee. No family or significant other. Addicted to his work. Stopped his fair share of alien incursions.” Gwen scanned the information on her screen as she spoke, but then she stopped suddenly and turned to look at Jack. “But you must have known him.”
“Well, yeah,” Jack admitted somewhat reluctantly as he always was when discussing his past. “But I spent a lot of that time on long distance assignments so I only worked with him a few times and that was a long time ago.”
“So what was he like?” Gwen asked.
Jack's forehead furrowed in thought. “He kept to himself mostly. Strict. Fastidious. Didn't like any nonsense.” He smirked. “In other words, a lot of fun to rile up. I also remember he had a bit of an obsession with the Rift, thought we could put its power to good use. Nothing came of that though. Oh, and he had a bit of a temper but he mostly reserved that for the aliens he encountered.”
“What sort of a temper?” asked Ianto.
“Nasty and violent. What are you...” he began but then stopped as realization and then anger flashed across his features. “Find out everything you can on him,” he said through gritted teeth. “Especially see if you can find anything else about his disappearance.”
“Got it,” Gwen acknowledged refocusing on her computer.
Just then the lights flickered again.
“Damn it,” cried Jack glaring at the ceiling. “This is not what I need right now.”
“Maybe you should get a repairman in,” said the Doctor from behind him.
Jack spun round.
The Doctor stood at the entrance to the autopsy room, Martha at his side. The Time Lord looked much better than he had in cryosleep, less pale, more alive, but the mess of dark hair on his head and the stubble on his chin still left him looking ragged and worn. He had redonned his leather coat, but had left it undone revealing the blood stained shirt beneath.
Jack took a deep breath getting his temper back under control. “Hey, Doc. What the prognosis?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” the Doctor declared. He gazed around the main hall, eyes taking in everything. “I like what you've done with the place. Just the right amount of dank, gloomy, oppressiveness you need for an underground lair such as this.”
“Thanks, I think,” replied Jack. He sidled over to Martha as the Doctor began wandering about the room studying the various alien technologies and eclectic decor that made up the Hub. “What's your opinion, Dr. Jones?” he asked quietly.
Martha kept her eyes on the Doctor as she whispered back to him. “His systems show some minor strain from his abrupt revival but for the most part he seems fine. I'm not exactly an expert on Time Lord physiology though.”
“I doubt anyone is.”
“Some of the burns and lacerations were pretty nasty but I cleaned them up and they seem to be healing already.”
“Time Lords are made of tough stuff.” Jack watched as the Doctor picked up a Thornian radiation shifter the team had recently recovered. The Doctor studied the shifter, made a face at it, and then put it back down. “So what do you think of this version of the Doctor?”
“I don't know,” said Martha. “He's the Doctor. I have no doubt about that, but he's also different. He's a lot more solemn and subdued then I'm used to.”
“He was just tortured and put in cryostasis for 82 years,” said Jack. “That would put a damper on anyone's mood.”
“I know but there's also something...” Martha stopped and shook her head. “Sorry. I'm probably just overthinking things.”
Jack put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “I get it,” he said. “I worry about him too.”
The Doctor was currently examining Ianto's coffee maker which seemed to be making the Welshman rather nervous. Jack was just wondering whether he should intervene when a sudden screech from above made all heads jerk up.
Torchwood's pet pteranodon had emerged from its habitat high above them and was stretching its wings swooping around the pillar of the silver water tower that went through the centre of the hall.
“You have a pterodactyl living in your ceiling,” the Doctor observed a touch of wonder in his voice.
Jack smiled. “His name is Myfawny.”
The Doctor's eyes lit up and his face was split by a large grin. “Brilliant,” he said. “I love pterodactyls. They always remind me of vortisaurs.”
Jack raised an eyebrow incredulously. “And that's a good thing?”
“What the hell are vortisaurs?” asked Mickey.
“Carion feeders that live in the space-time vortex,” Jack explained. “They can be a time traveller’s worst nightmare if they decide you would make a tasty meal.”
“Oh, they're not that bad if you get one away from the pack,” said the Doctor still watching Myfawny. “We used to ride them bare-back while I was at the academy.”
Mickey snorted. “Why am I not surprised.”
Martha and Jack exchanged grins.
The Doctor walked around the water tower continuing to gaze up at the ceiling. “2009. What's above us now?”
“Roald Dahl Plass, the Senedd, the Millennium Centre,” Gwen helpfully provided.
“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.”
“Sorry,” said Gwen, confused.
“Roald Dahl,” explained the Doctor absently. “A very complicated man.”
The Doctor suddenly stopped his wandering and stood still in the middle of the room staring at the rift manipulator with an odd expression on his face.
“Doctor?” Jack said approaching him hesitantly.
“The Rift,” said the Doctor. “I'd forgotten. There's something...” He trailed off and then continued in a voice that was almost a whisper. “Memory's a funny thing you know.”
“What exactly do you remember?” asked Jack.
“Well, that would be the problem,” the Doctor replied. “What I remember seems to be in bits and pieces. I really wish people would stop messing with my head. It keeps getting harder and harder to put it back together again.”
“Anything would help,” said Martha.
The lines on the Doctor's face deepened as he concentrated on bringing forth the hazy memory. “I remember...finding the Balavastrans. They were a nice lot, gave me some home made gyera bread. I remember helping them repair their ship, and then the humans with their anachronistic weaponry arrived and declared they were there to kill everyone and take the ship. They said they were called Torchwood.” He gazed at the wall where Torchwood was written in large letters.
Gwen and Ianto both looked somewhat uncomfortable at that statement, but Jack's face remained forced into a stony mask.
“I stopped them, of course, with a bit of trickery which was fairly ingenious if I do say so myself.”
Mickey made a sound that was half snort, half laugh.
“But you obviously don't want to hear about that,” the Doctor continued giving Mickey an exasperated look. “Once the Balavastrans had left, I thought I'd take a look into this so called Torchwood. Humans in the 1920s with knowledge of aliens, high tech weaponry, and a penchant for killing concerned me. I found the base. This place presumably.”
Jack nodded. “The Hub's been here for over a century.”
“Right on top of a temporal rift which left me even more concerned. I remember finding my way in...” The Doctor hesitated scratching his head. “Somehow, I must have gotten caught. I have vague memories of someone demanding to know who I was. I didn't particularly like their tone so I decided not to tell them.”
Martha and Mickey both rolled their eyes.
“That's not always the best course of action,” Jack pointed out.
“Maybe,” said the Doctor. “I also remember someone being very angry with me.”
“This guy?” With a few keystrokes, Jack brought up the image of Allan Gregerson on one of the monitors.
The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed at the picture. “That's the man. He wanted something very badly.” The Doctor shook his head becoming frustrated. “I can't remember what it was. Who is he anyway?”
“His name was Allan Gregerson.” Jack brought up the information from the man's file onto the monitor. “He was in charge of Torchwood when you were taken. He also disappeared a day or so after you were put in stasis.”
“Now, that I definitely don't remember.”
“All records of that time are missing,” Ianto explained. “Someone, probably Gregerson, didn't want anyone finding out about you.”
“Which means we're going to have to dig even harder to find out what the hell happened,” said Mickey.
“How's the search for my Tardis coming?” the Doctor asked switching the subject as swiftly as only he could.
“It would be going a lot better if you remembered where you parked it,” said Mickey. He swung around in his chair back to the computer and began tapping away once more. “I don't exactly have a lot to go on.”
“Mmm,” said the Doctor thoughtfully. “By the seaside?”
“Somewhere by the seaside in Cardiff in 1927,” Jack reiterated. “I guess it's better than nothing.”
“Yeah, but that's what I've got so far,” countered Mickey, “a big fat lot of nothing.” He stabbed a few finally times at the keyboard before slumping back in defeat. “From what I've heard,” he said addressing the Doctor. “You've lost the Tardis loads of times. You've got to have some method of finding it.”
“I used to have a Tardis tracker,” said the Doctor. “But I lost it somewhere inside the Tardis. I always meant to build a Tardis tracker tracker but I never got around to it.” The Doctor sighed. “Well hopefully, the old girl will find her way back to me somehow. She usually does. Maybe we'll find her if we find out more about this Allan Gregerson. He might have taken her.”
Jack frowned going over the idea in his head. “How would he have know where the Tardis was?”
“Well, he wouldn't unless I told him.” A hand suddenly flew to the Doctor's mouth. “Oh, dear.”
“What?”
“I think I may have told him.”
Several incredulous looks were given.
“But why...?” began Martha.
“I don't know. I don't know,” the Doctor said quickly.
“More memories coming back?” asked Jack.
“A few,” he said frustration underpinning his tone. “Nothing very useful I'm afraid.” He rubbed his left arm where beneath his coat wounds were still healing.
“I guess it's back to hard research then,” said Jack. “Okay, here's what we're going to do...”
Suddenly, the lights flickered again.
“Damn it,” exclaimed Jack.
“Having some problems?” asked the Doctor, a hint of curiosity in his tone, the idea of some new mystery a welcome distraction from his own troubles.
“It's nothing,” Jack insisted.
The lights flickered off, then on, then off, then on again. The computers rebooted themselves.
“Probably nothing.”
At her workstation, Gwen ran a few system diagnostics trying to see if she could find the cause behind the power fluctuations. “Jack, did you know there's been several energy spikes in the readings from cold storage over the past couple hours? Do you think it's related to our generator problem?”
“It shouldn't be.” Jack peered over her shoulder to see the readings for himself. “Cold storage has its own power source. Not to mention separate back-up power sources for each individual unit.
“Maybe it's just a consequence of us opening so many of the units this morning,” suggested Ianto.
“Maybe,” Jack replied though he sounded unconvinced.
“Should we check it out?” asked Gwen.
Jack hesitated. He automatically looked to the Doctor, searching for either support or reassurance, but he couldn't read what was in this new Doctor's eyes. “That's probably a good idea,” he said. “But I'm sure it's nothing, just some loose wiring, or something.”
The lights flickered again, and then went out completely. The room was filled with an immense silence as all machines immediately died.
“Or something,” came Mickey's voice from the dark.
A second later the emergency lights came on though the light they gave did little to dispel the gloom that had overtaken everything. At the same time, there were also several loud and final sounding metallic clunks.
“What was that?” asked Martha, her eyes wide.
“That would be the Hub going into lockdown mode,” said Ianto who had already fetched several torches and was handing them out to everyone.
“What?!”
“It happens automatically when the power is cut,” explained Gwen.
“Well, Captain,” said the Doctor, his pale face looking ghoulish in the dim light. “It seems your problems will have to take precedence over mine. Would you like me to look at your generator? I've got quite a dab hand at this sort of thing, but you probably already knew that.”
“It's not like I could forget,” said Jack. Turning to take everyone in, he clapped his hands together. “Alright, here's what we're going to do,” he said aware he was repeating what he'd said seconds before it had all gone to hell. “The Doctor and I will take a trip down to the generator. Ianto, Martha, take a look down in cold storage, make sure the generator down there isn't having similar problems and make sure those energy spikes were just a meaningless coincidence. Gwen, Mickey, stay here and see if you can do anything on this end, like getting those doors open. Everyone got it?”
There was a round of nods.
“Have you always enjoyed giving orders this much?” asked the Doctor.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Come on, Doc. Let's go.”
“Oh, please,” replied the Doctor, “after you.”
Chapter 6