|
|
|
|
 |
||||
|
Four Consultants Torchwood Cardiff Calls Upon (and one they don’t) by akire [Reviews - 0] 
1. Wilson ducked his head through the door and just managed to avoid being hit by a giant foam ball. “House, come on.” “What is it?” Wilson glanced guardedly at the three junior doctors who were looking at him with interest. “Let’s just say it involves, uh, flaming planks?” He raised an eyebrow meaningful. “Huh,” House muttered as he scooped up his cane. As he headed for the door, he ducked down to whisper loudly at Cameron. “That’s code for ‘I’m horny, meet me in the closet in five.’” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “I should at least make him buy me dinner first.” The trio sighed to themselves, shaking their heads as they went back to what they were doing, satisfied that this was just yet another episode of their senior’s unique brand of mischief. House and Wilson moved rapidly across the hospital, House pointedly ignoring Wilson’s obvious eagerness until they made it to the relative sanctuary of the last elevator that whisked them down to the secure consulting rooms secreted away in the basement. “Would you stop that?” Wilson almost bounced on the spot from suppressed excitement. “Oh come on, House. You mean to try and tell me you’re not even a little-“ “No.” House snapped as the elevator doors opened to disgorge them into the cold concrete corridors. “Who knows what they’ve dragged in this time.” Leaving Wilson to fall into step behind him, House stalked up the corridor, past the armed guards and into the consulting room. “Harper,” House acknowledged. “House,” Owen replied with a nod. “Got a live one here for you.” “I would hope so, since the morgue is all the way over in the other wing.” Wilson shook his head at the verbal sparring starting up as he slipped in and walked over to stand by Cuddy at the observation window. Inside the theatre room proper, an alien shape lay preternaturally still on the gurney. “What’s wrong with him…it…whatever it is?” “We’ve run every test we can think of. We honestly don’t know,” Owen admitted with a shrug. The snap of latex glove was like a gunshot in the bunker-like room. “Let’s find out then, shall we?” 2. Toshiko Sato perched herself on the edge of the wooden desk, delicate fingers toying with the small model of the solar system made out of beads and wires beside her. “I think I’ve looked the data over a hundred times by now,” she said tiredly. “I just can’t make heads or tails of it.” “And you’re saying it came off an hand-held device?” Toshiko nodded as she slipped off her perch and came over to stand next to where her friend and colleague was curled up on the end of the couch, surrounded by her data. “I don’t even know if it was an alien GPS or a Gameboy anymore.” She managed a weak smile as she brushed her fringe out of her eyes. “All we know is that it was important to him.” “That makes it important to you.” Toshiko frowned, taking in his distracted air, the way he was flipping rapidly back and forth between data sets. “Got something?” “Maybe…possibly…” Without pausing in his reading, he unfolded himself from the couch and walked over to the large blackboard that dominated one side of the room. Toshiko couldn’t help but smile at the way he automatically navigated around the stacks of papers and well-thumbed journals that were piled up on the floor. Balancing the laptop precariously on the window ledge, he began to sketch out obscure symbols on the board. Toshiko claimed his previous seat and watched, fascinated, as the data that had remained so opaque to her revealed its secrets to him as he methodically began linking clumps and framing sets in ways that, with hindsight, seemed so obvious. “GPS might not have been far off,” he murmured as he stepped back to take in the totality of his scribblings. “Interplanetary hyperdrive vectors and landing coordinates?” “But there is an extra variable set?” In response, he held out his left arm. She was perplexed for only a moment, then realized what he was saying. “A watch? Time! Of course.” She could almost slap herself. “A rendezvous!” Her glee at the discovery was interrupted by a single knock on the door. “Larry?” A male voice asked as a head poked around the lintel. “Oh, are you in consult?” Toshiko answered first. “Actually, I think we’re just finished. Thanks, Larry.” Standing up, she walked over and pecked a kiss to his cheek. With a wicked grin, she scooped up her laptop and slid past the visitor. As she dialed Jack’s number, she heard the sounds of an interrogation starting up behind her. No doubt Larry would milk the brief mystery for all it was worth, but she knew from experience that he was very good at keeping secrets. 3. Just when she though she was understanding how things worked in Torchwood, something like this would happen. Scurrying slightly to keep up with Jack’s longer stride, she tried again to make sense of what was happening around her. “I though you – we – had the best technology in the world.” She smiled blandly as a technician walked past them, then continued once he was out of earshot. “Why do we need to come here?” Jack seemed to be enjoying her confusion. Again. “The best technology in the world will still only give you data. You’ve still got to interpret it. And the man we’re going to see is the best in the business.” He pushed through a plastic double door, blithely ignoring the “Laboratory Personnel Only Beyond This Point” sign. Gwen hesitated for a split second, then followed. Jack was already at the other end of the corridor, standing in the doorway of one of what seemed to be a series of glassed off rooms filled with enough laboratory equipment to even give the Hub a run for its money. As she approached, she could hear Jack speaking in one of his more persuasive tones. “…already run the sequences. Come on, G, just five minutes to tell us what we’ve missed. I’ll even buy the coffee.” As Gwen stepped up to Jack’s side, she caught sight of a slim man, perhaps a little younger than she was, wearing a stained lab coat over a Ramones t-shirt. The man eyed her, then smiled. “Coffee and an introduction, and it’s a deal.” Jack laughed warmly, an honest laugh, nothing like the ones he faked for perps and authorities. “Deal. Greg Sanders, this is my lovely new recruit Gwen Cooper.” “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Sanders,” Gwen replied automatically. Greg all but sashayed out from behind his lab bench. “Oooh, cute and an accent. Nice.” Not pausing to let Gwen finishing gaping in surprise, he pushed between them and headed along a side corridor. “So, where’s this analysis that’s giving you trouble?” Jack winked at her as he passed up the file, but otherwise kept silent until the three of them were ensconced in the break-room, sipping styrofoam cups of awfully strong coffee. “Your sample was contaminated.” “We guessed as much…” “No, I mean contaminated before it was left as trace. You’re looking at a composite entity. Something from Klom, or the like, perhaps?” He tossed the file back onto Jack’s lap with a smug little smirk. “How does he know about…everything?” Gwen asked as they weaved their way through the parking lot to their car. “I thought Torchwood was a British organization, but...” “It is,” Jack conceded. “But not everyone who’s been out there was from Torchwood.” “Out there? You mean…” Jack’s face went blank, and Gwen knew that she would be getting no more answers tonight. “Get in the car. We’ve still got work to do.” 4. Ianto massaged the bridge of his nose as the metal doors sealed, cutting off the noise of the rest of the Cardiff team heading off to chase up a lead on their latest case. He sighed and sat back in his chair. They were his team, and he would do anything for them, but by Gods they could be annoying some days. Swiveling his chair around, he surveyed the Hub. A glance at his watch confirmed what the empty space suggested. It was nearly 3am on a Sunday morning. Every other sane person in Cardiff was already tucked up in their beds. Technically, he was free to do the same. Jack had told him to go off-duty before he left, well aware that Ianto’s day had started nearly 24 hours previously. Yet the stresses of the case, of Susie’s almost unbelievable actions, of getting the new girl settled in, were piling up inside his head, whirling around, making sleep impossible. Torchwood retained a cadre of highly qualified and cleared psychologists for just such a situation, yet Ianto felt loathed to talk to them. Their carefully practiced clinical demeanor always made him feel like he was on trial. Sighing, he watched the clock on the wall as the minute hand slowly ticked over the hour. Three am here. He calculated the timezones in his head. Eight in the evening in California. His hand was reaching for his phone before the impulse had even fully crystallized in his mind. Flicking through his list of contacts, he dialed the number. “Hello?” Ianto smiled at the sound of her voice. “Hey, it’s me.” “Ianto,” she said. He hoped it wasn’t just his imagination that her voice had become warmer, friendlier. “Oh my god, it’s been ages since you’ve phoned me.” He shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. “Work’s been…well, work.” He smiled at the sound of her laughter. “How are you? How’s Stanford? And whatshisname?” “Sam,” Jess said drily. Ianto had made no secret of the fact that he didn’t like Jess’ latest boyfriend. There was something about him that rang false, but so far he had managed to resist the urge to run a background check. Jess wasn’t Torchwood, though Ianto had already made a few deft enquires with personnel. Even so, she was his friend, and so he’d watch out for her. “He’s good,” Jess was saying. “He’s gone away with his brother for the weekend. Some problem with their dad or something.” Ianto fiddled with the pen on his desk. “That’s criminal, leaving a pretty girl like yourself alone on a Saturday night.” “I’m putting the time to good use. I’m making cookies.” He heard her bang something metallic in the background for emphasis. “What about you? It must be, what, three in the morning over there? What are you up to?” He could almost see her gaze sharpen, like it used to do often during the year she lived in London before returning to school in the States. “Let me guess, worked off your feet and too wound up to sleep. “Guilty as charged. So amuse me, tell me all the gossip,” Ianto replied in an easy lilt, slowly relaxing into his seat as, an ocean away, his friend cooked and laughed and helped him settle his whirling thoughts. “Oh god, Ianto, we’ve been talking for an hour. Your phone bill…” “Will be paid for by my lovely employer, thank goodness. Job perk.” “Well, for the good of your crazy job, I think I better say goodbye now. Take care of yourself, you hear me?” He smiled fondly. “You too, Jessica. Enjoy a cookie for me.” Quietly, in a far better frame of mind than he was an hour ago, he closed the line and went home. 5. Jack rubbed his finger up and down the rubbery plastic that lined the side of his phone. They had earned a brief respite, but no doubt the battle would soon continue. And more good people would die. And he was out of ideas as to how to save them. The green call button seemed to glow brighter with each passing second, tempting him. Maybe it wouldn’t connect. Maybe he’d get a busy signal. Maybe… Maybe He would answer it. Jack didn’t know which would break his heart more. “Jack?” He looked up, at the exhausted, dirty faces of his team. Gwen and Ianto and Toshiko and Owen. Good people, his friends, who had stood by him through thick and thin. To whom he owed nearly everything he had become since he had returned, naked and hurting, to this planet. To go running off, crying to be saved – no. He was past that now. Jack closed his phone with a snap and stood up with more energy than he felt. “Come on. We’ve got a planet to save.” House – set sometime before the end of season two, no specific spoilers Numb3rs – set sometime before the end of season two, no specific spoilers CSI: LV – set during Greg’s labrat years, no specific spoilers Supernatural – set during 1x01 Doctor Who – no specific spoilers (beyond a vague implication of how Jack and the Doctor parted company) |
|||
