Title: Attack of the Killer Pigeons
By: KITG22
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When the flying rat populas, oops sorry meant pigeon populas starts doing an Alfred Hitchcock, is it the result of aliens trying to take over, or some lost artifact that wants load of birdseed (okey this fic is alot more serious than it sounds trust me).

***

Chapter 1: Flying rats

"And in further news, several people have reportedly been attacked by pigeons today in Trafalgar Square. While three of the seven casualties were clocked in and out of the hospital within hours, suffering only minor injuries, a twenty-three year old woman was sent to intensive care after a beak wound to the eye. Scientists say this is an isolated account, and predict that there should be no further trouble with the birds of Trafalgar Square.
And in the sport..."

Owen stifled a yawn, flicking through the TV channels. News, more news, sports (boring, the Ashes were on . . . Australia was a sure beat, unless some mass-murdering fanatic opened fire on the team as they started their bowl), cooking show, men and motors, news . . .

Owen quickly back- pedalled a channel, and settled in to watch the most interesting thing in the base 'women's mud wrestling.

Admittedly, he could get in trouble with Jack for bunking off 'but that as a pretty moot point, considering there was no work to bunk off from.

Tosh was sitting at her computer, being as annoyingly multi-tasking as ever, running some sort of linguistics schematic through the new bit of telepathic enhancer they'd scooped up from the bottom of the Thames while she IMed Gwen from the other side of the room. She was, from what Owen could glimpse of her monitor, telling Gwen how to upgrade her computer. In Owen's opinion though, to judge from the acronyms liberally scattered over the text like sprinkles on fairy bread, the main content of the message was going over Gwen's head and straight into orbit.

Gwen sighed. She was, at the moment, playing secretary to Jack, partly because she was bored, but mostly because there were certain things you didn't ask Jack to do when he was bored. The last time she had let him on the phone during a lull, the head of the CIA had refused to speak to them for weeks.

Stick-it notes were liberally plastered to the manila folders on her desk. Tell UNIT we don't have the damn Vergoan ship was a typical example, with another note slightly below it reading Get Ianto to stash the ship somewhere UNIT can't trace it ASAP.

Gwen rolled her eyes. So much for interdepartmental cooperation . . .

Flicking aside a note marked, Let HRH know dinner on Friday is fine, Gwen looked up at Jack's open office door. Inside, she could see Jack cleaning his gun for the fifth time, and occasionally sneaking glances at Ianto as he pottered happily around the little kitchenette.
Subtlety was obviously not Jack's forte . . . she never would have pegged him and Ianto though. After that whole thing with his girlfriend becoming a Cyberman and nearly killing them all . . . but then, that was part of the weirdness of life at Torchwood.

She could see Jack was getting bored...and that was always a bad thing. Last time he had been bored he had packed them off on a team building exercise...which turned out to be a few days in a boot camp.
It had not been a resounding success. Owen had fallen face-first into a pile of stinging nettles, Ianto had pined without his kitchen, and Gwen had managed to get involved in the Cardiff version of a Spanish bull-fight, ending with Jack stunning the irate bull.
When an alien threat had popped up halfway through the little trip, the three of them could have kissed it in gratitude. Pity they had ended up having to shoot the thing . . .

Ianto was still bustling happily in the kitchen, like some sort of eager participant in Happy Families, and Gwen felt her interest piqued. True, anything more exciting then watching the fungus grow on Owen's left-over curry would have gotten her attention, but Ianto had been nearly jumping around like an excited toddler with the package she and Owen had helped him get in this morning.

"Oh yeah baby...you get 'er!"

Gwen just rolled her eyes. Owen could be so annoying sometimes. It made it hard for her to understand why she had slept with him. If they had met outside Torchwood she never would have given him the time of day . . . but again, that was the strangeness of Torchwood.

"You're such a pig, Owen!" Tosh exclaimed, as she spun on her chair and caught him with the mud-wrestling. Through a little manipulation on her computer, she flipped the channel back to BBC news.

"Oi! I was watching that!" Owen protested.

"Well unless its alien mud...it's not important." Tosh ignored his whine with the skill of long practise. Gwen just smiled as Owen started to sulk.

The sound of combat boot shod feet down metal stairs rung out as Jack descended from his office.

"Okay, its official . . . I'm bored," Jack sighed as he looked at his team

"Run for hills . . . Jack's bored," Gwen wailed in a doom voice. "We're all gonna die! Let's throw Owen to the Weevils while we have the chance!"

Ignoring Owen's affronted look, and Tosh's hopeful expression, Jack laughed, swinging around behind Gwen's chair and putting her in a neck hold.

"You find my boredom amusing, PC Cooper?" he asked in a mock-stern voice.

"Immensely, sir," she agreed, laughing as he poked her in the side and looked up at the news

"Terrorists, lottery, Jade Goody . . . I swear she's an alien . . . lets go and get Jade Goody!"
He got a mad gleam to his gaze as he looked to each of them. Tosh and Gwen exchanged looks. If someone didn't act quickly, they could very easily find themselves out on a hit.

"Jade's not an alien," Tosh smiled a smile of infinite patience, as if she was dealing with a 5 year-old

"No, I'm with Jack on this one . . . she has to be . . . with that mouth . . . maybe she tries to suck a man's brains out through . . ."

"Shut up Owen!" Tosh and Gwen shouted at the same time.

"You didn't know what I was going to say!" Owen whined.

"Yes," Gwen retorted. "We did."

Abandoning Owen and his twisted mind, Gwen wandered over to Ianto. He had been very quiet in the little kitchen area of the hub. Jack had appropriated the remote from Owen and was flipping through the news channels, making bored comments with every flick.

"Maybe that tornado's the result of an alien secret weapon!" Gwen heard him say.

"Jack, it's not even a proper tornado," that was Tosh's voice, the infinite patience wearing slightly thin. "It's not even a storm."

Jack's voice, affronted. "Well, it could be!"

"Everything alright, Ianto?" she asked, skipping up into the little alcove.

It was very hard to read Ianto. You never knew it he was happy, sad, pissed off . . . he just was there. But this time he seemed glowing. Ianto moved to one side to reveal a shiny coffee machine. It was one of the old types, all shiny copper and brass, like it had just come out of a French café.
"Oh, new coffee maker?" she remarked, impressed. "God, I haven't seen one of these in ages."

"I was just about to try it out. Would you like some?" Ianto asked in his butler like tone.

"Coffee from a machine like that?" Gwen grinned. "Please."

Gwen walked back to her computer to continue writing. Tosh was still upgrading hers, around her the various screens showed the external cameras. None of them were paying much attention to the screens.
But, if they had been, they might have noticed the pigeons sitting round the millennium fountain all turn towards the few civilians that were milling around.

The birds seemed to move as one towards them, hopping along the ground then jumping to the wing and swooping in on the poor pedestrians. They tried to run from the assault but ended up getting pecked and scratched, disappearing under the magnitude.

Back in the hub Owen was walking past Tosh's desk when he looked up.

"Um guys . . . the flying rat attack today . . .?"

"Flying rat?" Gwen looked confused.

"Sorry, meant pigeon attack."

"What about it?" Jack was about to take a bite out of his sandwich when it disappeared courtesy of the pterodactyl. "Oi!"

The prehistoric reptile looked quite smug with itself that it had gotten the sandwich off him.
Until it actually tasted it, that is.
She screeched, spitting the offending item out. It landed with a slight sploosh in the bowl at the base of the fountain.
"Ha, that will teach you! Nick my Marmite sandwich would you"
He missed his entire team cringed at the mention of Marmite.

"Well," continued Owen, undeterred, "whatever it was....it's happening outside," he nodded his head towards Tosh's monitor

They all rushed up, crowding round Toshiko and almost burying her slight form. They watched as birds swooped in attacking the people. Already they could see the marks of blood on the ground. One woman was writhing around, her hands over her left eye, her face covered in blood. Then as soon as it started it stopped. The birds flying away in fright and confusion.

"What the hell?" Jack exclaimed

"Okay, what the heck was that?" Owen just looked at the footage as police and ambulances turned up.

"Freaky," Gwen whispered.

Owen's eyes lit up. "Hey . . . maybe it's a take over the world thing!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah right . . ." Gwen rolled her eyes, and started flapping her arms.
"We are the master race," she cooed, "The time of man is at an end. The flying garbage disposal systems will rise! Give us all your bird seed...coo"

Jack snorted into his coffee and Tosh tried to hide her smile.

"Right people," Jack looked happy, for the first time that day. Well, the first time that day while Gwen could see him, anyway . . .
"Let's get to work. Owen, go out there and get some of those birds for examination. Tosh, check to see if there is any signals or anything that could cause the flying rats to go crazy. I want to know what could cause massive aggression like that, and why just the pigeons? Gwen . . . you're with me. Let's go and see what your old friends at the station say."
Jack grabbed his RAF jacket, the slate grey material giving him more presence...if that was possible.

Gwen picked up her leather jacket and ran after him; they decided to go through reception, as suddenly appearing in the paved centre near the millennium fountain with all that going on would draw attention, even if the entrance was shielded from view.

What they appeared into was nothing more than chaos. To think this was cause by flying rats seemed impossible to conceive. Police were moving around as if they weren't quite sure how to react to this. Already people were claiming it was a result of bird flu, making the winged creatures to go mad. Others were sprouting the usual end of the world stuff and still more were saying that the time of the animal's retribution against human cruelty was at hand.

Gwen walked up to Andy, her old partner. Not for the first time she felt the guilt for suddenly leaving the force. It was never plainer as Andy now regarded her with varied wariness and distain. No one in force liked Torchwood. And to be absolutely fair, why should they? They came in and covered everything up, leaving nothing for the police.

We come in, Gwen corrected automatically, then smiled.
"Hello, Andy."

"Hello, Miss Cooper," he replied in an icy tone.

"What happened to Gwen?" she asked, keeping her smile with difficulty.

"Yeah, what did happen to Gwen?" the tone was the same as before.
She sighed. Well, if Andy wanted to play it that way, she wasn't spraining her neck to be friendly.

"So what have you found out, Officer?" Gwen asked, keeping her voice "strictly business".

"Seems some birds decided to attack the populace . . . or has Torchwood made you go blind?" he indicated the scene of blood in the area. She could see Jack looking at what was left of someone's eyeball.

"I could see just fine thank you Officer. Now if you will excuse me" She made a move to go after Jack, but a restraining hand was laid on her arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" Andy snarled at her. "This is a normal investigation. Torchwood doesn't need to be here. I think we can handle it."

"Do you want me to read the small print on my ID?" Gwen was now officially sick of being fair, and just wanted Andy to back the hell off.
"I can, you know. We have jurisdiction over any investigation we deem necessary. And Andy" Gwen smiled at him icily. "For the sake of our friendship, I suggest you take your hand off my arm before my boss walks over and makes you take it off me. He doesn't like people hindering his investigation."

Andy looked to where Jack had been kneeling before. He had been engrossed on the lone eyeball 'but now his full attention was on Andy, and he did not look happy.

Slowly Andy let go of Gwen's arm. Without saying anything or turning back Gwen walked towards Jack. His gaze never left Andy's, and Gwen felt sorry for her old partner. Jack just had a way of either making you think he was your best friend . . . or worst enemy.

Jack still hadn't moved his gaze from Andy. "He giving you trouble?" he asked.

"Nothing I can't handle. The usual "you're on my turf" argument," Gwen sighed as she looked to the eyeball.

"If you need..." Jack left the question open. Letting her decide what she would like him to do.

"No, its okay, Jack. If I can't handle one officer, then I'm no good to you." Gwen dismissed her feelings about her past friends for the moment to get on with the job. "Any idea's what this could be?"

"Could be many things. The Rift could be causing them to go mad"

Gwen disagreed. "If that's so, why now? Wouldn't it have been a more gradual thing?"

"True." Jack looked thoughtful. Gwen could see Owen walking towards them now, he had in his hand he held three clear plastic bags, a dead pigeon in each.
"And why only pigeons?" he added to her question.

"So is it some kind of mind control?"

"Who the bloody hell would want to control pigeons?" Owen joined the conversation.

"Tosh," Jack talked through his Bluetooth to Tosh in the hub, "found anything?"

"Nothing, although if it is some kind of control, I wouldn't expect to find anything. I'm setting up a program to search in case this happens again. If it does, we'll be able to find out for sure if they are being influenced by something." She replied.

"Okay, looks like we have learned all we can here. Let's go back to the Hub." Jack turned to walk back but tripped over something. He managed to stop himself falling onto his face, looking as though he had skipped.

Gwen looked down to see what he had tripped over. At first she couldn't see anything. But then it flashed in a rainbow of colours like the sheen on oil. She reached out to pick it up, feeling the hairs on her arm stand on end like static.

"Jack?" she said cautiously.

Jack, alerted by her tone, came over, then frowned when he saw her hands apparently empty. He opened his mouth, then shut it abruptly as he too saw the flash. He shot a look at Owen, who handed him a bag. Taking the thing almost reverently from Gwen, he placed it inside. His hair was standing on end, like a ghost caress to the skin.

"Don't know what it is . . ." he said, in answer to the pair's enquiring looks in his direction. "Haven't seen this before, and that's not a good thing. Come on lets run some tests."

Jack spun back to the reception, his coat flaring out behind him. The three of them walked together, side by side as they passed Andy and a pair of his coppers. Jack gave Andy the evil eye again, as though just to make his point clear, which Officer Andrew was more than happy to pay back in kind.

Then he looked back at Gwen, and she saw that all three of the officers were glaring at her with a dislike that seemed to border on active hatred. She shivered almost unnoticeably under the looks, something that did not go unnoticed by Jack or Owen.

She almost smiled when she saw Jack double his evil glare, joined this time by Owen.
He may be a wanker, she thought dryly, but he's our wanker.

But, now she realised that her past was finally closed. The bridges had been burnt, never to be repaired. Jack was looking at her now, and she knew he'd caught the moment of her revelation. She elbowed him gently, in a sign she was okay...or she would be.


None of them saw a lone pigeon look at them with its beady black eyes that flashed red . . . before flying away into the darkening sky . . .

***

Chapter 2: To kill a mocking bird.


The Scanner pulsed around the strange alien device they had found in the aftermath of the second attack. You wanted to look twice at the thing as it would disappear, then reapperaer in a flash of rainbow colours again.

"It's like it has some kind of..." Tosh seemed stumped for a moment. "Phasic shield."

She put the scanner display on the main screen. It showed a 3D model of the device so they could clearly see the shape of it. It was like some medallion or some link in a chain. It definitely looked like it had been attached to something else. Along the sides where various readouts with numbers and measurements. All went over everyone's head except Toshiko's

"I can't believe I have just done an autopsy on a pigeon!" Owen exclaimed, his disgust clear as he ripped off the white gloves and tossed them into a nearby bin.

"Anything interesting?" Jack asked, standing to one side with his arms crossed across his chest. Gwen was sat at her computer, glaring at a rotating cube pattern screen saver.
She was on the phone to some Officer in London, trying to gain some new information from them. But it seems what happened at Trafalgar square was exactly the same as here. Without warning, the birds had just attacked commuters and tourists alike. And nobody had the foggiest idea why.

"They were infested with ticks, which I might add a really disgusting. They look normal. But what do I know? I'm a doctor, not a bloody vet!" Owen slumped down on his seat, and leaned back in mock-fatigue.

Ianto walked passed handing coffee to everyone; Gwen nodded her thanks, her scowl momentarily transformed into an expression of open lust as the aromatic smell of the vanilla coffee hit her nostrils. Jack gave her an inquiring glance.
Need anything? his eyes asked.
Gwen held up a finger. Just a minute.

Owen leaned over towards Jack. "Wanna play the game?" he asked.

Jack looked thoughtful. "Usual pool?"

Owen nodded.

Tosh nudged Ianto. "My favourite part of watching interaction with normal humans," she told him.

Ianto frowned. "What is?"

"This is Owen and Jack's latest game," Tosh, looking pleased. "They only started last week. Sit back and enjoy the show."

Gwen shook her head, glaring at Jack. He responded with a kicked-puppy look.

"Please, Gwen," he begged. "Please? Don't make me use my boss-in-authority-voice."

For a moment, they tried to stare each other down 'but it was Gwen who looked away first, her traitorous lips curving into an unwilling smile.

Before she could say anything though, there was a slight click, and the classical music that had been playing in her ear and driving her mad shut off.

Do it quietly, she mouthed.

Tosh and Owen looked expectantly at Jack.

"She's been put through to the Commissioner," he predicted.

Gwen glared at him to keep his voice down. "Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, sir . . . yes, I am aware that a Commissioner has a lot of demands on his plate. . ."

Jack smirked. "He'll tell her what he found. . ."

"And around how big was this object, sir?" Gwen asked, rolling her eyes. "Yes, we'll arrange for one of our team to come and collect it . . ."

"Now," announced Jack, but in a low voice at Gwen's dagger look, "he'll ask where she has the authority to just snatch things off him like that."

There was a long stream of rather loud conversation from the other end of the phone, and Gwen said patiently, "Yes, sir, I think you'll find we are actually allowed to remove anything we judge to be within our jurisdiction. And that includes . . . yes sir, I am perfectly willing to risk my career in a court case for insubordination, but we'll still be sending someone down!"

"Now he'll back off, start being apologetic," Jack forecast.

"Yes sir . . . no sir, that's quite all right. We're sorry to have to interrupt you like that . . . for the time being I suggest you put it in a secure place and don't let anyone near it. It may be harmful. . . no sir, but best to be safe. . . thank you, sir."

Gwen placed the phone back in its cradle with a sigh. Even in the force she had hated talking to commissioners. They were always so stuck up, more politicians than police.
This one, out of three possible lectures (the "who do you think you are?" lecture, the "spluttering indignant war veteran" speech, and the "just who are you Torchwood people anyway?" demands), he had chosen option three. He had given her a piece of his mind, and informed her that Torchwood were "unlawful, secret service wanabes" and had wanted to know just who Torchwood answered to.....which got Gwen thinking. Who did they answer to?

Meanwhile, Jack, grinning smugly, was accepting a small pile of notes from Owen.

"One of these days," Owen was saying, "You're gonna slip up big time. And I'll be there, raking in the cash."

Tosh sniggered, and Ianto took his coffee cup.

Jack shrugged. "Whatever keeps Doctor Frankenstein happy," he agreed, pocketing the notes. "I think I'll buy myself a new '"

"A-hem," Gwen looked impatient. "Can we get back to the real problem here?"

"Owen's ego?" asked Tosh innocently.

"Seems they found a little toy just like ours," Gwen indicated the device in the stasis field. "Told them to place it under lock and key....it's amazing how quick they comply when you hint at radiation"

"Good. Gwen, you'll have to fly down to London to pick it up. You have a better idea how to handle the red tape at New Scotland Yard. God, I hate dealing with the Met....they're even worse than the Welsh police." Jack put his face close to the device.

"Oi! And just what is that supposed to mean?" Gwen complained, levelling him a killer gaze.

Jack blanched as if he had suddenly realised he had said that out loud.
"Nothing, nothing. You shouldn't worry....you're not police anymore."

"Might I remind the great Captain Jack Harkness that this ex-police officer kicked your butt while still a police officer. Who figured out Suzie had been killing people? After taking Ret-con as well."
She poked Jack in the chest with her finger. Jack raised his hands in a placating manor.

"Okay, okay....you were a brilliant copper and I bow before your detective skills. Now will you stop poking me?"

"Good boy," Gwen smiled, giving Jack a quick peck on the cheek.

"Aww so sweet...I think I might be sick" Owen made retching sounds, and Gwen smacked him on the shoulder.

"Right guess I will see you lot later. Don't go chasing aliens without me!" Gwen waved to them all.

"Take care Gwen," Tosh shouted from her desk.

At the door, Ianto handed her a thermos.

Gwen unscrewed the lid a fraction, and smiled blissfully as the scent of vanilla coffee rose to meet her.
"Ianto," she said gratefully, "you're amazing. If I didn't have Rhys, I'd be giving Jack a run for his money."

Ianto's eyes twinkled. "You assume that he's paying me," he responded, dead-pan.

Gwen laughed, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Owen snorted in the background.

"Don't I get a kiss?"

"Do something for me and I'll think about it." With the rattling of Servos, she was gone as the large round door closed.

Suddenly, Tosh spoke.
"Jack," he turned at the concern in her voice. "It just started giving off a signal...very weak but it's there."

On the screen that held the 3D representation of the device, waves were emanating out of it like ripples in water. Above them Myfawny called in agitation, tilting her head sideways to look at the device uneasily.

"Could it be affecting her?" Tosh asked thoughtfully.

"It could be. Their brains are linked the same way as a pigeon's."
Everyone gave Ianto a strange look.
"I Wanted to be a Palaeontologist when I was young." Ianto almost floated out of the room, smugness radiating from every pore in his body. His comment added, he went to make more coffee.

"Where is the signal coming from?" Jack and Owen leaned over the back of Toshiko's chair
"I can't place it; it's bouncing all over the place." Toshiko's fingers where a blur as they flew over the keyboard. But the solution evaded her no matter how hard she tried. One moment it was in London, then in the hills surrounding Cardiff, then further a field to Hong Kong or the Arctic.

Behind them came the sound of fluttering wings....all turn to the morgue. The sound grew, until one pigeon came to sit on one of the railings.

"Coo" The pigeon sounded like all other pigeons. But this one was slightly difference in its appearance. Mainly to the fact that it's insides were hanging out after Owens autopsy.

"Please tell me I'm not looking at a zombie pigeon," Owen sighed as they all moved close together.

"Give it back." everyone blinked at the voice emanating from the pigeon. It sounded like a parrot, the quick words from a throat not used to human speech.

"And please tell me I am not now talking to a zombie pigeon."

Jack looked mystified. "Yep, we're talking to a zombie pigeon."

"Pigeons, plural," Tosh pointed to the two others that landed beside the first. One on either side.

"What do you want?" Jack addressed the pigeons.

"Give it back...coo," the one that had spoken before now sat in the middle

"Coo....give it back," the one to the left called

"Give," the last one a garbled call, as its head was to one side, its neck clearly broken.

"Why do you want it?" Jack addressed them again.

"GIVE" this time the voice deeper, it could never be created by the primitive vocal cords of a pigeon.

All three pigeons took to the wing and began to zoom towards them; the one with the broken neck never made it that far. Seems Myfawny was peckish. She snapped it straight out of the air, and had it down with two bites.

The other two headed straight for them, as one headed towards Toshiko she grabbed the nearest thing to hand...which happened to be Owen's metal baseball bat. She swung it with all her might, with a resounding "THWANG!" The pigeon was hit straight into the back wall with a small squelch.

"Wow....go Tosh" Owen exclaimed.

Both looked to Jack as the repeat of his Webly pistol rang out in the confined space....all that was left of the pigeon was a bunch of feathers.
"That was slight over-kill," Tosh said, looking slightly queasy as Myfawny eagerly devoured Jack's remaining bundle of down.

"I know...great isn't it?" Jack replied with his cheesy grin on his face. "Tosh, I think we need to see inside this thing."

"I'll do an ultrasound right now," Tosh hurried back to her desk.

"Owen, think you need to do another autopsy," he commented. "The last one wasn't very good, considering the bird's just talked."

Owen seemed to decide to let that one go. "I'll try" he agreed. "with what's left of them, at any rate."

"After you're done...burn them."

Owen picked up what was left of the one Toshiko had hit with his bat, hanging limply in his hand, and walked towards the autopsy room at the back of the hub.
Jack, meanwhile, went back to his office. he had a few phone calls to make....

8888888888

Gwen walked from the hub and went to her car. She did not see the lone pigeon trailing behind her. It followed her to the airport; it followed her plane to London where it got more followers as she passed Trafalgar Square to reach New Scotland Yard. Then it waited for her outside the station.

As Gwen walked into the reception office the officer behind the desk looked up. The young lad smiled at her, which she returned in kind.

"How can I help you miss?" he asked, in a strong London accent.

"Hi, I'm Gwen Cooper," she introduced herself. "I'm here to see Commissioner Bullworth." Gwen brought out her Torchwood ID. The young officer looked at it closely before handing it back to her. She could feel the atmosphere change as he realised she was Torchwood.

"Right you are miss, just sign here and I'll let him know you're here" Gwen sighed the Visitor book as the young officer picked up the phone and pressed the button for the Commissioner. "Sir, there is a Miss Cooper here to see you. She's from Torchwood. Yes sir" he placed the phone back in its cradle as he turned back to her

"I'll take you up ma'am. Richard, take over will you."

"Sure Chris" the one known as Chris pressed the door release to let her through the office, the buzz as she pushed on the door. She followed the officer through the large complex to a main office. On the door was a gold plaque with the name "Commissioner J Bullworth" stamped into it. Chris knocked on the door.

"Come in," called a voice from behind the plaque.

"Miss Cooper, sir."

"Thank you Chris, that is all."
"Yes sir." Chris waited until Gwen had walked into the office before closing the door.

"Please sit down Miss Cooper," he indicated the chair opposite as he rose from his.
He walked to a large safe in one corner. It almost looked like the safes you would have in banks 'one of those safes that used for the crown jewels of small, influential oil countries.
If Gwen stood next to it, it would have reached above her waist. The Commissioner took out a long key. Placing it into the lock there was a soft clunk of well-oiled hinges as he opened the large door.

"I believe this is what you came here for" There, in a plastic evidence bag, was a copy of the artefact they had found earlier that day. But this one was slightly different 'it looked bigger for one thing.

The Commissioner handed the item to her. Now it was in her hands, she could see they were in fact two in the bag, still linked together with what seemed to be chain links. So theirs was part of a bigger object. Exactly how big would be impossible to tell.

"Yes. Thank you sir" before the Commissioner could protest Gwen placed the item into a box she had been carrying with her. The small pack had the biohazard symbols clearly displayed in its sides. "I'd best get this back to Cardiff as soon as possible.

"What exactly is it?"

"It's too early in the investigation to disclose that information" Gwen replied, her tone all business.

"But surely..."

"I'm sorry sir, but we have reason to believe someone inside the Met is working with the organisation importing these devices. So I can tell you no more."

"I don't like it, you Torchwood riding rough shod over my lads. Just who keeps you in line I'd like to know?" Bullworth narrowed his eyes at her. His greying hair catching the light making it seem like shining silver, and his eyes were a deep emerald shade Gwen had a feeling would have had the women fawning over him in his youth.

"I'm sorry sir, but I really must go and catch my flight," Gwen kept her voice neutral.

"Get out of my office," the man snapped. "Damn Torchwood, think they're all high and mighty. I have no use for upstarts like you lot . . ." with a trail of muttered comments about useless braches of the government following her, Gwen left the station. She never really realised how deep the animosity between the two forces ran. This could be trouble in the future.

Gwen found herself back at the airport. She booked a seat on a small charter plane. The two jet engines more than enough to travel that distance. As she waited to board her mobile rang. She looked at the display. "Rhys Calling"

"Hello sweetheart," she said in greeting.

"Hi babe, when are you going to be back?" Gwen looked at the clock 'it was already nine.

"I think I'm going to be late," she said apologetically. "I'm in London at the moment."

"London! What the hell are you in London for?" Rhys exclaimed, his disproval coming out of the phone in waves.

"I had to pick something up from the Met, my boss didn't trust anyone else to do it," she tried to kept her voice calm. It wouldn't help with them getting into a shouting match.

"You could have at least warned me!"

"I didn't have time, and I didn't think it would take as long as it has. Look I'm catching the 9:30 flight from London. I'll be back in a couple of hours. I have to drop this thing at the office for the investigation. So I was going to be late in whatever. I'll try to get home tonight. If not I'll see you tomorrow."

"Gwen we can't keep going on like this!"

"I'm sorry, Rhys. But this is important!" She was getting annoyed now. Her voice rising slightly, which Rhys matched octave for octave.

"It always is! Just tell me why."

"You know I can't do that! I can't disclose information about an investigation. But people could die if I don't hurry up"

"But what about our lives! Our relationship is always on hold. Just once I'd like to come first!"

"You do come first!"

"Well it doesn't feel like it. And to be honest Gwen, I have had enough!" he shouted down the phone.

"Flight 599 now boarding" came the announcement in the background.

"Look we'll talk about this when I get back. I have to catch my flight"

"When you get back....I might not be here"

"Rhys....Rhys!"

But he had hung up, Gwen stood immobile a moment.

"Flight 599 now boarding" the call broke her out of her paralysis. She ran for the plane all the time thinking of Rhys. He didn't mean it, did he?

"Well why shouldn't he?" her mind snapped back. "After how you have treated him . . . left him in bed alone at nights while you casually sleep with a workmate. Come on, get real, Gwen"

Gwen got in her seat still agonising over Rhys.
The flight went past quickly, as her mind was elsewhere. As they were about 5 minutes out her mobile rang. She looked at the readout hoping it was Rhys...but it was Torchwood.

"Don't bother me," she sighed, and had never meant it more in her life.

"Nice to hear from you too..." Jack's voice trilled in her ear.

"Not now, Jack" she sighed. "Maybe I'll just join a nunnery. Do you employ nuns?"

There was a pause. "Nah," said Jack's voice after a moment. "their vows always come up at the most awkward moments. You know, truthfulness, honesty . . . chastity . . ."

Gwen stifled a giggle. She realised she was glad she could rely on Jack to stay consistent 'even if that meant consistently skirt-chasing.

"What's wrong?" he said after a moment. Gwen could hear the concern, and mentally thanked him for it.

"Life problems. Don't worry about it, Jack. I've the artefact, and it's bigger than the one we have in the hub. Were just heading into land, so I'll be back in....." Gwen was cut off as a big THUMP beside her head made her jump. She looked to the window of the plane, but could see nothing wrong.

Thud,thud,thud . . . WHUMP!

Gwen put her face close to the window, trying to see into the night sky 'then snapped her head back as something banged against the fibreglass window. She could just make out the form of a bird.

Then the plane dipped, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. She could hear Jack calling her on her phone but now the whine of the engine was louder and even though she was no mechanic, she knew something was wrong.

"Gwen! GWEN!"

"Jack!" her voice shook, she couldn't take her gaze from the window. Now the panic screams of the other passengers permeated the terror that had gripped her.

"Gwen! What's going on?"

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump

"I don't know Jack....a bird smacked into the side. No . . . oh my god, Jack, it's . . . there's hundreds of them!"

The repetitive thump like a machine gun as another, and another, and another pigeon smacked into the plane. As Gwen watched, there was a loud bang and a belch of flame as the engine exploded. The place dipped wildly, screaming its death knell.

"GWEN!"

"Oh God, Jack!" she screamed, and then the phone was knocked from her grasp as the plane bucked and writhed. The Thumps never stopping, just mixing with the screams of terror as the ground rushed up to meet them.......

***

Chapter 3:From the Ashes


"We interrupt this program to bring you the following breaking news. Twenty minutes ago, flight 599 from Heathrow to Cardiff lost contact with Heathrow air control . . . the plane lost altitude as it was about to land, impacting the ground at what experts say must have been between one hundred and two hundred miles an hour, coming to rest on the boundaries of Cardiff airport.
At least five houses have been destroyed by the planes crash-landing, and the damage has been estimated in the hundreds of thousands. However, there were no fatalities from that source, despite three elderly residents being taken to hospital for minor injuries .

There were no survivors recovered from the wreckage, which combusted upon crashing, to be put out by the Cardiff fire department soon afterwards. The death toll is expected to be in the hundreds, but no exact figures have been disclosed as of the time of this broadcast. Airport official Bruce Silo has been quoted as saying the plan carried at least sixty passengers, plus flight crew. If you had any relatives on plane 599, we recommend you call this number . . ."

The newsreader kept talking in the background as the camera switched to aerial views from the news helicopter. The scene was more reminiscent of a war-zone than anything else, littered with what might once have been houses, now lying tossed and crumpled like old toothpicks scattered by some giant child's temper tantrum after a craft project had not gone well.

And, atop it all, was flight 599. You could see the tail section, wedged half-way into someone's roof, the large metal structure cutting the building in half. Most of the main body was invisible beneath the shielding haze of thick, heavy black smoke, still lingering even though the fire was almost out.
It was worse than a battle-zone 'it was madness. Pieces of shrapnel lay flung about the site, intermixed with incongruous items . . . a seat, a tray, at one point, a juice bottle from some toddler who would no longer be needing it. Everything was fire and ash and smoke and charred, unrecognisable long black shapes.

The passengers of the ill-fated 599.

Tosh looked on in horror, fighting an urge to hide her eyes.

"Oh god, Jack . . . Gwen wasn't on that plane, was she?" she whispered.

On the screen, the ant-like figures of firemen were still battling the last of the flames. A spark caught the last of the highly flammable aviation fuel, and for a brief second, the fire flared, then died.

Jack didn't answer. He didn't look capable of answering. His eyes were locked to the screen as though he could wish this whole mess impossible. Ianto stood to his right, Gwen's mug in his hand, a washing up towel hung across his arm.

"Jack?!" Tosh felt her voice begin to break, and quickly controlled herself. She laid a hand on Jack's arm, and he started as though he had been shot.

"Gwen wasn't on that plane . . . was she?" Tosh asked the question almost urgently, demanding to be told that everything was alright, that Gwen had touched down minutes before, that her flight had been delayed and she was fuming to Rhys on her phone about the hold-up . . . anything, as long as she didn't have to hear Jack say '

"Yes . . . that was her flight."

Tosh gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle something 'anything 'from coming out, and sat down heavily on her chair, eyes wide and horrified.
Ianto seemed to have been turned to stone, his face frozen . . . but there was a smash a moment later as Gwen's cup fell from his fingers and shattered on the unforgiving stone floor.

"Well I've burned the pigeons," announced Owen, coming out from the morgue. "So, who wants chicken tonight? Suppose that should be pigeon tonight. Flame grilled..."

Owen tapered of as the mention of a flame grill made Tosh retch, hands covering her mouth again as she dropped her head.

Jack still hadn't moved . . . he just kept looking at the screen, as if looking for a trace of something or someone he couldn't see.

"What?" Owen followed their gaze to the plane crash, illuminated in high-definition detail on the main monitor. "Is that a plane crash? Oooh . . . roast humans a la jet fuel."

Tosh looked up. "Shut up Owen," she choked in a feeble voice, before her stomach betrayed her again at the thought of Gwen lying there. Her insides churned.

Owen stared, weirded out, but unconcerned.

"What's got into you lot?" he asked, noticing Gwen's cup lying in shards on the ground. "Gwen'll have your hide for that, Ianto. Is she back from London, yet, by the way?"

". . . and the breaking story again. A few minutes ago, a light commercial plane crashed on its way from London to Cardiff airport . . ."

Owen's face seemed to completely shut down as he stared blankly at the screen. Watching him, you could almost see the mental process going on --the idea forming, before he threw it away with a shaky, nervous laugh of derision.

Gwen couldn't have been on that plane. She couldn't be dead. Not after she had survived a Weevil attack, not after she managed to throw off Ret-con, for God's sake, and join their group, after she managed to survive Suzie coming back to life and nearly dying . . . if alien technology hadn't killed her, how the hell could something as mundane ' something as stupid 'as a plane crash do for her?

But the idea would only reform in his mind, truth becoming persistently hard to ignore in the face of the evidence before him.

"No....no, no, no you're kidding" Owen looked to Jack, to see him deny that this was true. But one look at Jack's face, his eyes dark and shuttered, as if one look through them might break his soul . . . that told the truth to him.

Owen sat down very slowly, as if uncertain that the chair would continue to be there when he reached it, and equally slowly, rested his head in his hands.
Like a minute of silence for the fallen soldier, the Hub became as quiet as a tomb. Except for the drone of the news caster as she continued to blithely inform the thousands now watching that their husband, lover, son, daughter or grandchild might have just been snatched from their lives forever.

For a moment, all Owen could think about was how much he was to strangle that self-satisfied cow.

All of them were thinking about different moments in their time with Gwen. Tosh was picturing her. The smile, the forgiveness she gave so easily, after she had misused the pendant. She hadn't held a grudge, hadn't avoided her like Owen had. Just accepted the mistake, and moved on.

Ianto was remembering how she had defended him to Jack in the face of his rage over Lisa, even after the girlfriend he had once loved tried to kill her. She had talked Jack down, tried to take a rational view of the problem instead of reacting in blind fear. To be honest, she hadn't known the full consequences of meeting a Cybermen, never quite realised exactly what terrible danger they had all been in . . . but that made her reaction no less exceptional.

Owen was thinking back to the times they were together in his flat, his mind always controlled by sex, even when faced with death. He was thinking of their wild nights, her body writhing beneath his as they pleasured one another, her soft caress showing more emotion than the hundreds of casual shags he had in his life.

Jack reflected on the plucky Welsh policewoman with a knack for sticking her nose exactly where it shouldn't be, and a knack for finding just what she shouldn't be interested in. from tracking Torchwood to the Millennium monument, to defying the effects of ret-con, to finding the murderer 'one of their own 'when none of them could see it.

Then, his mind followed that through, from the Constable, to the Woman who was his partner . . .he suddenly realised she had become his second in command, always willing to stand up to him when she thought he was wrong, bringing back humanity to the hub.

All this taken away by bloody pigeon? Oh, there was no way he was going to take that lying down. No way in hell.

"Right people, we're leaving." He grabbed his jacket from Ianto, and was not really surprised to see that the man had put his jacket on also. He was coming with them.

Owen grabbed his medical bag, Tosh her scanner and laptop, Jack the car keys and they walked from the room, determination written in every line of their bodies.

Determination . . . and the need for revenge.

8888888

A crash site is never the same in real life as on the TV. For one thing, there is the smell. A television will never assail your nostrils with the stench of hot metal and the sharp tang of burning petrol . . . and the horrible, burned smell of roasting meat that you just knew was human.

And a broadcast would never be able to give you the overwhelmed feeling of heat against your skin any time you came near a piece of metal, or the choking cloud of smoke, or the indescribable feeling of lost hope.

Television never gives you the lingering, untraceable scent of death in the air.

They walked up to the yellow tape, showing their ID's as they passed, but Jack hesitated, something catching his eyes. Gwen's ex-partner, Andy, was seated in the passenger seat of his police car, with the door open at an awkward angle.
But that was immaterial to Jack. What he wanted a closer look at was the . . . whatever it was that Andy was putting in an evidence bag.

As he got closer, the image resolved under his eyes. Something foldable, like a book, but small enough to fit in an open palm . . . a wallet? That was when it clicked. Jack was looking at Gwen's Torchwood ID.

As Jack's legs came level with Andy's line of vision, he looked up. Jack knew immediately Andy wasn't operating on all thrusters by a long chalk 'his face was pale and dewed with sweat. Clearly in shock.

"She's dead . . . what I said to her, how I acted the last time I saw her . . . I. . . "
Andy wasn't making much sense, the ramblings of those who had wronged a person and knew it was too late too undo the change.

"Where did you find it?" Jack's voice was business like. As far as he was concerned it was too little too late. Andy had chosen to cut Gwen off; Gwen had been nothing but friendly to her old partner.

"Don't you even care?" Andy shouted, causing others to look in their direction.

"Where did you find it?" Jack's voice showed none of his inner tension. He had to keep his tone level, couldn't acknowledge the pain and loss burning inside him. If he did, he knew he would snap, the way he had over the phone when Suzie had gone with Gwen . . . Jack would kill to protect his team. Only now, if he killed anyone, it would be for nothing. So he kept his emotions under control.

"You killed her!" Andy was almost screaming now, most unprofessional behaviour, even for a Welsh cop. "You and your bloody Torchwood! If she'd stayed with us, she'd still be alive! You bastards! You bloody, murdering bastards!"
Andy was becoming hysterical. Jack knew he should ignore the biting words as the ramblings of guilt and grief. The proper course of action would be to walk away.

Jack hadn't joined Torchwood to follow the proper course of action. He lashed out, punching Andy in the face and actually knocking him out the open door on the driver's side of the car.

Jack was on him like a panther, his face close to Andy's as he pulled the man off the ground by his shirt-front.

"Don't you dare," he said, and his voice was level in a way that was more frightening than all the cold, hard tones in the world. "Don't you dare tell me I didn't care about Gwen. Like you can talk? Little Inspector Plod, turning your back on Gwen the moment she got a raise! I trusted her, and she's dead, and you try and tell me I don't care?!"

Jack's ice-blue eyes were almost black, pupils dilated with fury and grief and a blind, purely atavistic desire to beat the living daylight out of the cringing man he held.

Jack looked like he wanted to spit. With a gesture of contempt, he flung the man back to the ground and took Gwen's ID, tucking it into his breast pocket.

Tosh, Owen and Ianto watched Jack walk up, fury still coming off his form in waves. They had watched the little confrontation with Andy, Tosh had to restrain Owen from walking up and joining in at one point.

"Okay people we need to find her, the bird's obviously forced the plane down to get at the artefact she had picked up. So start looking"

All of them fanned out, Tosh had her scanner trying to find any sign of the special alloy their containment boxes were made of. Every time one of the stepped over a body the thought of "Is that Gwen?" occupied their mind.

"Jack..." Tosh called he voice indicating she had found something. They all rushed over to a seat....and hidden underneath where the life Jackets were usually found was the box and in the seat, a body charred what was almost just the skeleton from the fire.

"Tosh...can you check the airline records and see what seat Gwen was in?" Jack whispered in respect and fear, as he knew the outcome. Tosh took her eyes off the body to her palm pilot. After a moments concentration she answered.

"Seat 2 row 1a," she whispered, and there on the side of the chair with the body was 2R 1A.

Tosh had to move away, the sound of her retching clear over the silence. Jack looked back down at the box, even in her terror Gwen had thought to hide the box in the section for the life Jackets. She must have pulled it out as the plane was falling and shoved the Box in there instead.

"Good girl, Gwen" He whispered, looking at where beautiful eyes would have looked back at him, full of life and forgiveness.
"Owen, get a body bag...." Jack ordered, his voice never above a whisper. "We're taking her home. She's ours and no one but us is going to touch her"

Jack helped Owen put Gwen's body into the black Body bag. Before moving her to the land rover he retrieved the containment box, he passed this to Ianto as he helped the crying Tosh back to the car. Then Owen and himself started to carry her.

"You can't just take that! "A voice rang out; a high-ranking police officer was walking towards them.

"We can and we have," Jack bit back, never missing a gentle stride as they carried Gwen.

"No you can't" the officer grabbed the body bag....big mistake. Though as much as Jack was going to, Owen got their first, with his free hand socking the officer with enough force to drop him to the ground. The man fell back like a felled tree.

"Don't you fucking touch her!"

"Owen!" Jack barked, he indicated with his eyes that they needed to get her into the land rover before the other coppers came over.

With Gwen safely in the back they sped away from the nightmare and towards the hub, none of them saying a word as they became lost in their thoughts.

And none of them seeing the pigeon now following them.

88888888

It could have been one of a million places. A cave, with a large percentage of oxygen in the air. It had a fine grainy substance covering the ground that might have been sand or dirt . . . or moon dust, for that matter.

Every now and then, a drip of water fell into some large body of water, echoed unnaturally around the closed, stone walls.

And it was to this persistent, annoying noise that Gwen woke to.

"Aaargh . . ." she moaned. Her body hurt as though she had been running miles, her head felt like an eight martini job, and her brain currently seemed to be on vacation somewhere on the outskirts of the Milky Way.

Think! she ordered herself groggily. What's the last thing you remember?

Her brain sulked for a few seconds, then reluctantly accepted that its holiday was over, and began to start working again.

She was talking on the phone to Jack as she was in the plane...then the plane had.....crashed. So was she dead? Well she did feel dead; it didn't feel like before when she had died after Suzie had taken her life for that short time. It wasn't the same kind of darkness, not the same feeling of something waiting in the darkness to devour you. Or maybe it felt different the second time around. She'd have to ask Jack, when she saw him again.

Gwen pulled herself to her feet, and revised that statement. If she ever saw him again.

It was too dark to see anything, but then, Gwen became aware of a light coming towards her, the soft amber glow of a naked flame illuminating rock and stone of a cave. The walls slick with lichen and water that trickled through the rock. What came round the corner was clearly alien, either that or a result of some weird lab experiment.

It was clearly a bird, but this walked on two legs like a human, the feet with three taloned toes like Eagles claws. It also had two arms; these had three front talons and one rear like a thumb. From its shoulder blades came wings, the brown feathers glinting red and yellow from the torch in its grasp. Its head looked exactly like an eagle, except for the way the great curved yellow beak looked ready to bite a whole arm off with little effort. That, she thought, might not be so much a characteristic of an eagle so much as a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

It walked up to her, nudging her none too gently with its foot. She got up slowly, noticing that her gun was gone as was everything else, her phone, ID, car keys.

S'pose I should probably be grateful they left me my clothes, thought Gwen sourly.

"Follow," it called out, the voice guttural as if speaking the words was hard.

"What do you want?" Gwen asked of it, but only got a prodding for her trouble. "Okay, okay I'm coming," she groused.

She was taken down tunnel ways to a large inner chamber in the background was a large alien ship; she could see the damage from here. Burnt out sides and gaping holes. She wondered how they had got the ship inside here. Then she noticed some of the ship was merged with the wall. So it must have been here years. So were these new arrivals?

"Move!" Gwen tripped as she was pushed before the bird-alien-thing that was obviously in charge. He pulled out a large sword and pointed it towards her.
"Jack....where the bloody hell are you when I need you?" Gwen muttered as she was forced to her knees.

***

Chapter 4: A phoenix will rise

The hub was silent.

True, but the bland statement of fact did nothing to express the fullness of the truth. It was as though a deadening, dull blanket of memories weighed heavily down on your mind, a silence you longed to break with a scream or a yell or even a whisper . . . but still you remained quiet, because even under the noise, the silence would still be there, like a ghostly hand on your heart.

Jack sat at his desk, looking down at the silent hub. More specifically, he was trying not to look at an empty chair by an empty desk. But his eyes kept drifting back to the empty seat, and her computer, still running a program she was never going to need again.
It was wrong, it should not be like that, he was sure, as though he were looking into the face of some unutterable paradox in the weft of time.

Just as time abhors its paradoxes, so the hub rebelled against the loss of Gwen. It seemed impossible that one person could have imprinted herself so thoroughly on a building in such a short time.
There had been others, after all, more than he liked to think about. Men and women, and even one or two children, by human standards at least.
Why Gwen? Why should everything in the hub seem to smell of her, to bring back memories that only reminded him of the wound. Like the man with his sore tooth, he couldn't leave it alone. Again and again, his eyes returned to the empty chair.

Some part of his mind just refused to accept that she wasn't going to come bursting through the door, all welsh accent and black hair flying about her head, laughing, shouting, smiling . . . just being Gwen.

But no, something had other ideas. She was gone now, taken away in a ball of fire and destruction. Was she in the dark abyss Suzie had talked about? He knew the darkness . . . it was all he saw for a second of eternity, every time he died 'before he was ripped back in to his body.

One second of eternity was always enough. Cold darkness, with something beyond it, something cold and indescribable just outside what you could see. Something that wasn't good or evil or stupid or misunderstood or deceptive, something beyond what his brain was capable of understanding . . . and it terrified him. Every single time.

"Sir?"

Jack restrained the automatic jerk of surprise at being pulled from his thoughts, and looked up to see Ianto, standing beside him with a mug of coffee in one hand. Jack wondered just how long he had been trying to get his attention.

"Thanks," he said hastily, standing up. He took the mug, nursing it with both hands as though the warmth could banish the memory of cold.

"You should eat something, sir." When Ianto spoke, his voice was quiet. "You look as though you need it."

"I don't know about you," said Jack, with an attempt at his natural manner, "but I don't think I could stomach anything right now."

Ianto gave a half smile that was somehow sadder than if he'd begun to cry right in front of his CO.

"Neither can I," he admitted, "but I thought I'd ask."

"How are they?" Jack asked gesturing towards Tosh. Owen was downstairs doing the autopsy, and Jack knew Tosh was all-too aware of it, since that was the eighth time he'd seen that page of text run across the screen.

"They're keeping busy," said Ianto. "Tosh is trying to figure out exactly what the devices do, and Owen's just starting the autopsy."

"Just starting?" Jack looked at his watch. Two hours had passed since Gwen's charred corpse had been laid on the autopsy slab. "What's he been doing all this time?"

"Just staring at her, I believe," Ianto kept his voice bland, like some 21st century version of the perfect butler, but Jack could hear the pain behind it.

Jack snapped, as soundlessly as the hair holding up Damocles sword. He seized the closest thing to hand 'a glass paperweight with a milky way spiral in the centre 'and hurled it across the room. It flew past Tosh to smash noisily on the far wall, exploding like a snowball of ice. She jumped, but Jack didn't even notice.

"I should have been able to stop this!" he fumed, voice leaking pain and fury 'mainly self-directed.

"How, sir?"

"What?" Jack blinked.

"How would you have stopped it?" Ianto clarified.

"I should have been the one on the plane! I should have been able to 'to '"

Ianto cut in. "There was nothing you could have done to foresee this. Gwen would be the first person to tell you to stop blaming yourself, and we both know it."

Ianto stepped in closer until he stood by Jack's side, and placed a firm hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack hesitated, then put his hand over Ianto's, grateful for the support.

He sighed, heavily. "You're right, of course. She'd be shouting at me now for just moaning to myself. Her welsh accent making all the words blur into an angry mess as she yelled at me for being so stupid. . ." Jack could almost laugh at the thought, but it stuck halfway, and came out strangled.

He glanced down at what he had been avoiding looking at even more than Gwen's empty desk 'a plain manila folder with his report to Torchwood HQ about the death of his latest acquisition to the network. He knew what the first picture inside was 'he had taken it himself, not very long ago, smiling when Jack had told her some outrageous and mostly true story about a Crinoid he'd married as he snapped the shot.

Hard to believe that the picture behind it was of a blackened corpse, long black hair burned down to the twisted skull. No bright, intelligent eyes looking at everything with empathy and compassion.
No warming smile as she tried to cheer you up after something that had happened to dampen your spirits.

Across the front was stamped in bold red letters CONFIDENTIAL, and, in smaller black letters with a white sticky label was the name, Gwen Cooper, Employee Number 58449234.

And obscuring all this was a new mark. Not even a full word 'just three letters long, and printed large enough to cover all the previous information.
KIA. Killed in action. Such a small, meaningless word, really. It didn't even begin to describe what had happened, and yet, it did exactly that. Gwen Cooper, killed in action.

Jack felt a hand caress his face, and, for a glorious, delusional moment, he thought it was Gwen.

But the voice that followed the touch was Ianto's.

"Jack?" his voice was concerned, his usual deference forgotten in the face of it. Jack found himself trying to focus on Ianto's face, his mind returning from the memories that had threatened to swallow him.

"What...?"

"You zoned out a moment there sir" Ianto hadn't moved his hand from Jack's cheek, so Jack could feel the thumb of that hand slowly begin to caress his skin. So he turned his face and planted a kiss in the palm.

Ianto straddled Jack then inched forward to kiss his commander, Jack answered hungrily as if starved of affection of feeling. In truth to dull the loss of a friend. He needed this moment. A smile graced his lips that were still locked with Ianto's. He thought back to when Gwen had caught them at it last time. They had jumped apart as if struck by lightening, though the deed couldn't be hidden as Jacks shirt was undone exposing his muscled chest.

Plus the fact that Gwen had seen them kissing didn't help the matter. But she had just laughed and told them in a coppers voice "carry on" after grabbing the folder she had come up for. They had stood gob smacked a moment as they watched her go down the stairs, the wait for the "you never guess what I just saw" but she just walked to her desk and continued her report. Jack should have know she would not tell, after all she had never mentioned seeing him getting shot in the head by Suzie to anyone.

Jack ran his hand to the back of Ianto's neck as he crushed the man to him, devouring his mouth to taste all he could. Neither cared they were in Jack's office, that Owen or Tosh would come up and see them. They both needed this. Ianto shifted against Jack's semi-hard member making it strain against its confines. Jack moaned into Ianto's mouth in appreciation.

All this was brought to an end by the exultant cry from Owen as he ran in from the autopsy room. Jack and Ianto sprung apart trying to re-arrange their rumpled clothes. Ianto straightening his tie with meticulous adjustments. Owen came running into Jack's office as though the devil was at his heals. He did not notice Jack and Ianto's flustered demeanours, the news he was dying to impart overriding everything else.

"It's not Gwen!"

"What?" Jack exclaimed, eyes wide.

"That body in there isn't Gwen! The Dental records, DNA. It doesn't match, any of it! So that isn't Gwen!" Owen was practically jumping up and down on the spot in his excitement and joy.

"Owen, calm down. It doesn't mean she is still alive." Jack tried to be the voice of reason.

"But it was her seat! Why would someone else be in her seat?" Owen raged, trying to hold onto this glimmer of hope in the never-ending darkness that seemed to have descended on them.

"She may have put someone else in her seat, maybe they couldn't get to theirs so she gave them hers."

"Are you so determined that she be dead?" Owen raged at Jack.

"No! But we have seen too much to go on blind faith Owen! No one survived that crash. No one!"

"Well she might have! Maybe she never got on the plane"

"Owen you're deluding yourself. She was on the plane, her ID was there.." But Owen interrupted him.

"Someone might have nicked her ID".

"For gods sake, Owen! I was talking to her on the plane! I heard her fear, Owen. Heard the engines whine as the fought to keep them in the air. She was on that plane" Jack sighed.

Owen seemed to crumple again; he sat on one of the chairs in Jack's office head in hands.

"I thought...."

"I know what you thought. Look Owen we'll check see what the autopsies on the other bodies come up with. She might be in there with them." Jack stated calmly.

Owen nodded, his voice lost once more as he walked out of Jack's office. Tosh had been standing in the doorway listening to the whole exchange. She followed Owen down the stairs without a word on giving Jack a fleeting glance. Jack stood a moment before kicking his metal bin across the room; it hit the wall with a resounding "clang".

The hub was silent again . . . a silence that seemed to scream with loss. Then the alarm went off. Someone was in the shop.
Ianto walked out of the large gear-like door as it rolled back to admit him . . . and then returned moments later with someone else.

Jack took the newcomer in with one broad sweep of his eyes.

Tall, white Caucasian. Black suit, brown hair, blue eyes. Middle-aged 'forty to forty-five.

Jack started to turn, already beginning to dismiss the man from his mind 'but something kept his attention, made him analyse the man more closely.

He was long and thin, built like a whip on a diet. The suit was Armani, and he wore expensive leather shoes, with a weak chin and overly perfect white teeth that seemed to be noticeable even when his mouth was shut.
The skin on his face seemed to be stretched just a little too tightly over an admittedly excellent bone-structure, as though he had had one too many pin-back operations. He was alarmingly pale in the harsh lights of the hub, and there was a shifty look in those pale, almost dead-looking eyes.

Jack would have liked him a whole lot better if he didn't get the unnerving feeling the guy could have been a stand-in for Count Dracula.

"Jack Harkness?" the man shouted, looking at each of them in turn.

"Captain Jack Harkness speaking," Jack replied, wary. He didn't know much about this guy, and had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he did know.

The man looked up at him with an expression that indicated he was not entirely impressed with what he saw.

"My name is de Rano. I have been sent by some concerned . . . members of Torchwood. They have been hearing some disturbing rumours about this branch. You seem to be loosing your staff rather quickly. There are concerns about you being in command."

The wary dislike Jack felt jacked up to an active aggression. The man 'de Rano 'seemed to spill rather than talk, his tone slippery and about as safe as adder venom. He had something up his sleeve, Jack felt certain.

"And just who are these concerned . . . members of Torchwood?" Jack sneered, exaggerating de Rano's significant pause.

"That is none of your concern. I will need full access to this base."
DeRano pulled out a letter; but Jack didn't need to read it. He recognised at least four of the signatures on the bottom, even from this distance. That letter would give him access to everything he wanted. And cooperation, if Jack knew the Torchwood word-smiths.

Jack was helpless. It was all he could do to not jump from his perch and slam his fist in to the man's face. Instead, he gave him a vague wave which could have meant anything from "go ahead" to "get stuffed".

As he almost marched for his office door, a dangerous expression settled on his face. Captain Jack Harkness might not be much of a diplomat. He was definitely not good at conversation that involved anything soft and squishy 'unless, of course, he was dating it. And he couldn't play the harpsichord to save his life.

But one thing Captain Jack Harkness was good at was getting his job done with a minimum of fuss. It had been his maxim for a while now, and he found he liked it that way. You asked for Captain Harkness, you got the job done, and you got it done without disruption.

Jack was about to be very, very disruptive.

He fell into his chair, and brought up a video call on his computer, sending a coded text to Tosh to ensure the line was secure. There was a moment's pause, and then a small green light flashed on the keyboard. Tosh had okayed the line 'and then, a moment later, he was in.

The Torchwood logo spun round and round the screen as the other end connected. Jack allowed himself a small sarcastic lift of his eyes. Honestly, a Torchwood screensaver? Had these people no taste?

Then the hexagons that made up the symbol of Torchwood exploded outwards to leave the screen behind.

In the centre of the screen was the face of a man. He looked strangely ageless 'not obviously . . . just in some vague, hard to define air about him. He had long black hair pulled into a ponytail behind him, and what Jack could see of his clothing was dark. He knew for a fact that what he couldn't see was a long, dark coat with a hood for discretion, and a black suit and matching shoes.
Despite that, there was something about him that meant no punks with something to prove ever tried to call him a Goth. None that Jack could trace afterwards, at any rate. And Jack knew this man very well. He ought to; after all, it had been he who had introduced Jack to the wonder that was Torchwood. And it's bureaucrats.

"Captain Jack Harkness," the man acknowledged with a faint inclination of his head. "It's been a while." His voice, Jack reflected, had the same faint lilt to it 'the sort of voice you would instantly trust, whatever it said.

"Hello, Galen," Jack greeted him cheerily, no sign of his previous anger in his face. "You look sexier every time I see you."

"And, as always, you haven't changed at all," Galen remarked ironically.

"Ah, well," Jack shrugged lightly. "Only the good die young. I'm still having too much fun to die at the moment."

Galen laughed 'a rare sound. "That's not what you told me the last time we went on a drinking spree," he reminded Jack. "Now, what's up?"

"Up?" Jack gave him his most innocent expression.

"Don't bother, Harkness ," said Galen ironically. "Someone's got you furious 'and don't bother to deny it" 'Jack's mouth shut ' "I know you better than your mother would, if she was ever within a million light-years of you. And besides, you never call me unless something's up." Galen leaned back in his chair with the air of a man resigned to his fate.

Jack let the cheerful act drop. "We got some slimy bastard here who says he's from Headquarters."

Galen nodded. "Name?" he asked.

"de Rano."

Galen snarled, showing his long canines 'an unnerving expression snarl more animal or demonic than human.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Friend of yours?" he enquired ironically.

"Hardly," Galen was thinking hard, Jack could tell by the way he look dead at the camera. "But I know him, yes. That snivelling Keplagh had been given more sway than is his due. What is he there for?"

Galen's black eyes seemed to be tinged with an almost alien red. Anyone else would have assumed the camera was at fault. Jack did not, for two reasons. Firstly, because Tosh and Galen were both aesthetics when it came to their technical gear. And secondly, because he had seen that look once or twice in person. Both times, someone had ended up wishing they hadn't.

"He says he's here because of some concerned members of Torchwood."
Jack looked down into the hub, and saw de Rano harassing Tosh. He felt a little better 'de Rano obviously hadn't worked with techies very often. Techies might not trade barb for barb, but that didn't mean they didn't find their own ways of taking revenge. De Rano was in for a rough ride on the technical side of things . . .

"I have an idea whom they may be . . . watch yourself for now, Jack." Galen locked eyes with Jack, putting across the seriousness of the matter.

"Who?"

"Verdelay. He has been setting his eyes on Rockfort's chair for some time now." Galen seemed to look out of his office a moment before looking back at Jack.

"Verdelay? Wasn't he some lower ranking pompous windbag?" Jack tried to think back. it had been a long time since he had made contact with any of the more obnoxious bureaucrats in Torchwood.

"No Jack. He may have seemed as such when you were here 'but much has changed since then. Since the Daleks and Cybermen, many were promoted who might, perhaps, have been better off in their place." Galen sighed. "He had been voicing his opinions when the Sygorax turned up. He said it was proof that we should shoot first and ask questions later. But you and I both know that would do more harm than good."

For just a second, the captain and the mysterious stranger shared a look of mutual commiseration 'the look of two who had seen too much of the universe to expect anything good to come of a trigger-happy culture.

Jack and Galen shared a look that showed the sign of someone that had travelled the universe and knew its terrors. Quite how a human of this time could know as much as or even more than Jack...well that remained to be seen. Jack knew some of it, but there was much of Galen he did not know.

"What do you suggest?" Jack looked to see de Rano walking up the stairs to his office, and made the universal sign for a need to cut power momentarily, drawing his finger across his throat with a warning look to the side.

"Humour him . . . until I get there."

Galen's smile was purely demonic in its look. And Jack couldn't help but join him.

88888888888888888

Gwen wasn't quite sure what had happened.

She had been pushed to her knees before the aliens. She could remember the leader pulling out a sword, and she had thought fleetingly of Jack, praying for a last minute rescue.

Of course, none came. Gwen made a mental note to watch less Action Adventure movies in the future.

That was, if she had a future.


Then there was pain, unspeakable pain. She knew she had been stabbed, felt like her right shoulder. But that pain was nothing compared to that which was ripping through her skull. The Voices, compelling, commanding her to do things she knew she shouldn't do.

"Go into your base. Return it to us, find it . . . kill all who stand in your way"

"Nooo . . ." the drawn out moan that she realised was her voice.

"Go! Retrieve them for us! Kill all who stand in your way"

This time there was no answering defiance to the order.
All that was Gwen Cooper was locked away inside her mind. It was here she was left thinking as she looked out of eyes that were no longer under her control.
She tried to take back her body, had been trying ever since this had begun. But every time she tried the pain would lance through her.

She saw she was walking down streets she knew well, though she couldn't quite remember how she had left the caves to get here. One moment she was sat before the leader, the thing inside her listening to his orders. Then she had appeared down a dark alleyway not far from the Millennium fountain. Now Gwen was walking to the shop that served as a front to the Torchwood base. That which was Gwen but ' paradoxically 'wasn't, walked through the door as if she owned the place.

Ianto was missing from his customary station, which Gwen was thankful for. If Ianto had tried to stop the thing that now inhabited her body . . . she wasn't sure she could stop it. No, scratch that. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop it. And the thought scared her spitless.

She entered her code and the hidden door opened. Gwen walked down the passage then waited for the large cog door to roll back. She saw inside the hub, Tosh was at her desk, Owen was sat at his with his head in his hands. She could just see Jack talking with someone she didn't know. Then her eyes locked with Ianto's . . .

"Gwen?"

***

Next part of Attack of the Killer Pigeons.