![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Special Unit 3 - Part 7 of 9
Title: SPECIAL UNIT 3
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Torchwood/Special Unit 2 x-over, with a guest appearance of the Tenth Doctor.
Category: Heavy-duty Gwen bashing and a great deal of silliness.
Rating: 14+, for language. Owen is not happy, and it shows.
Genre: Crackfic, with gender bending, body swap, whatever – the whole nine miles.
Series: none
Timeframe: indefinite. Perhaps “Sleepers”, from Series 2 for Torchwood, but not necessarily.
Summary: Once again, Gwen fumbles around with something she was told not to touch. The consequences are… unusual.
Disclaimer: the usual: don’t own, don’t sue! Everything belongs to RTD and BBC - and UPN, respectively.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART SEVEN: SCREW IT ALL, WE NEED A DOCTOR HERE!
Author’s notes:
Personally, I prefer Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor. Perhaps it’s an age-related thing. But given canon timeline, I had to go for the Tenth Doctor here, so the special guest appearance goes to David Tennant. Applause, please!
And yeah, I know the technobabble is rubbish. It isn’t meant to be taken seriously, either.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Martha, loyal soul that she was, promised to contact the Doctor as soon as she got home. Considering the adventurous meanderings of the TARDIS through space and time, however, it could take everything from ten minutes to ten years to hunt the Time Lord down, and so Jack ordered everyone to return to normal routine. Whatever they might look like at the moment, they still had a job to do, and since they had Andy (officially still on sick leave) instead of Gwen the Gnome, they even had the usual numbers.
It wasn’t that any of his fellow policemen would recognize Andy in his current form anyway.
Fortunately, the effect that had turned Janet into a petrified Gargoyle seemed to have worked for the rest of the Weevils as well. Reports about stone monsters in the sewers kept flooding in, of course. A slightly obsessed archaeologist even came up with the theory that in prehistoric times there had to be a mystic cult centre in the place of Cardiff, housing a previously unknown civilization.
Speculations soon escalated well beyond the merely ridiculous. Ianto had a hard time to remove all true evidence from the news channels and the internet. Even so, private shots kept popping up constantly. Digital cameras and mobile phones with photographic function could be a pest sometimes.
“I suggest lacing the city’ water supplies with Retcon, once it’s over,” he said, rubbing his burning eyes. “What still slips through, we can always blame on mass hysteria and psychedelic drugs.”
“That usually works,” Tosh agreed. “Too bad that, for some reason, UNIT seems to have a problem with it.”
“Just let’s hope this won’t take too long, or things can really get out of control,” Jack answered tiredly. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to feed Rhys halfway convincing lies; despite what Gwen seems to think about him, the man isn’t a fool. Love’s fool, perhaps, but not an idiot. I’m running out of excuses why he can’t even speak to her.”
“He’ll need a massive dosis of that Retcon stuff when this is over,” Andy agreed. “Has been complaining about Gwen’s new job ever since she joined you lot.”
“I’d gladly take him out of your hands,” Ianto said to Jack apologetically, “but it’s unlikely he’d buy the story that I’ve suddenly turned into a woman. A shame, actually; I get along with him well enough.”
“He’s a nice bloke,” Andy said. “He’d deserve better, but he seems to be completely blind when it comes to Gwen.”
“I can handle him,” Jack sighed. “It’s just… I’ve gotten so used to remain young and agile all the time – this older body is making me so ridiculously tired.”
Ianto gave him a thoughtful look. “Jack, the thought’s just occurred to me… What if it isn’t just the body? What if the changes have made you mortal again?”
The mere idea of it obviously shocked Jack a great deal. He might bemoan his inability to die – a fact even Andy had come to terms with during the previous days – the curse of having friends, family and loved ones die around him on a regular basis, and that was a harsh fate indeed. On the other hand, the knowledge that he didn’t have to push others into the firing line since he could afford to die many deaths and come back again, unharmed, was like a drug.
Not the dying part – that was painful every time, and the coming back alive an unpleasant process – but one could get addicted to it nonetheless. Plus, it was sort of a safety net for those he felt responsible for. Re-adjusting to being mortal, and an older, much more vulnerable mortal at that, was a positively frightening perspective.
“God, I hope not!” he blurted out without thinking.
Ianto’s pretty eyes darkened a little at this reaction. “Why not?” he asked. “Wasn’t it you who told me over and over again how much you wanted to be able to live out your life in the normal way?”
Jack glared at him incredulously. “Are you kidding? In this body?”
The honest despair in his voice made Ianto laugh. “You’re so vain,” he said. “As if it would matter to me. It would be still you.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Jack replied glumly. “The ability to take great risks and come back unharmed is part of what makes me the person I am. That keeps Torchwood running. Elderly, mortal and crippled I’m of no use for Torchwood. I’d be a liability. I could get you – all of you – killed, just because I’m no longer my immortal self.”
“What makes you think you can’t get us all killed one day as your old self?” Ianto asked reasonably. “This is Torchwood, Jack, and we all know what the life expectations of a Torchwood employee are, especially here, at the Rift. You can’t shield us from everything.”
“I can try,” Jack answered simply. “Besides, as hot as I find you in this shape, I want my Ianto back. Even if it means that I’ll have to lose you one day.”
“I’d like to have you back, too,” Ianto leaned in and kissed him briefly. “Although you still taste like yourself.”
“Oi, you two!” Owen complained. “Stop it or get a room! I hope that Doctor of yours is gonna show up, soon, cos there’s only so much necking between the two of you that I can take on any given day.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
But it took another two days before the characteristic wheezing and groaning noise of the TARDIS’ landing filled the Hub and the old-fashioned blue police box materialised in the middle of the main area, causing a miniature whirlwind that blew every unfastened piece of paper flow from it place, to Ianto’s great dismay. He’d have to be very quick to save potentially important documents from the cleaning-up frenzy of the changed Myfanwy, who seemed to have developed an appetite for paper.
For a moment, the blue relic just stood there, doing nothing. Then the door swung open, and out hopped a loose-limbed man in a brown suit, with hair so tousled as if he’d been outside the TARDIS when it landed, and a thin, animated, almost manic face. He peered around over his old-fashioned, bone-rimmed glasses, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was. Then he spotted the Torchwood logo on one of the walls and broke into a wide grin.
“So, this is Torchwood Three,” he said. “Quite spectacular, I must say… in a manner. Where’s Jack?”
“Standing in the door of that office upstairs and staring down at you like a kid in a candy shop,” the beautiful, regal black woman following him out of the TARDIS replied.
The Doctor – beacuse who else could he have been? – looked up at the ‘new and improved’ Jack… and promptly broke down in a series of hysterical giggles.
“Oh, my word!” he wheeezed. “When you told me you’ve found a grey hair a few months ago, I didn’t believe the aging process would be quite so fast. In the end, there will be some truth in the Face of Boe myth, after all!”
And he fell into another series of giggles. Jack shook his head in exasperation.
“You know,” he said to Martha sourly, “I think I definitely liked the previous regeneration better. It wasn’t nearly so cheeky… and a lot more mature.”
“And you never mentioned that he had sentient hair,” Ianto commented, eyeing the unruly mass of hair covering the Time Lord’s head. “Or is this a new development?”
“Nah, I think it came ready-made with the cheek,” Jack replied.
“And with the obsession with dumb blondes,” Martha commented sotto voce. “You better keep an eye on your collection, Jack, lest he spirits one of them away as his next companion.”
“Hey!” Jack said indignantly. “My blondes are not dumb! They’re smart, feisty and reliable. Besides, they’re both guys… well, at least they used to be.”
“And would like very much to become ones again,” Ianto added with a brilliant smile.
“And I’d like to turn back to a woman,” Tosh said. “And I’m sure Andy here would want to get back the several inches of height he’s lost.”
The doctor ran his hand through his sentient hair as Ianto had called it.
“All right, this is really confusing,” he said. “Martha mentioned something about a reality manipulator…?”
“A Chulan one,” Jack supplied helpfully.
“A broken one,” Ianto added, and the Doctor pulled an unhappy face.
“Ow! Those are tricky.”
Tosh nodded. “That’s what Archie said, too.”
“Who’s Archie?” the information overload seemed to confuse the Doctor even more.
“Sir, Archibald McAllister, a Scotsman of noble, albeit unimportant heritage and leader of Torchwood Two, currently waiting in his hotel room to be called, should he be needed,” Ianto intoned gravely; then he grinned. “However, he wanted us to call him simply Archie. A most… personable man, I’d say.”
“Ianto!” Jack warned him darkly.
Ianto batted his impossibly long eyelashes at him. “Jealous, Jack?”
“Of Archie?” Jack rolled his eyes. “You gotta be kidding, right?”
Ianto shrugged, causing certain parts of his recently acquired anatomy to jiggle enticingly as a result. “Why? Personally, I do find a man in a kilt hot…”
“…as long as he doesn’t wear anything under the kilt,” Jack finished for him, grinning like a loon.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t start again, you two!” Owen groaned. Then he turned to the Doctor, with his desperate plea mirroring on his lovely face. “Listen, you’re obviously the god in Jack’s private pantheon, can’t you, please, fix the fucking device before I go insane from their public mating rituals?”
“I can certainly try,” the Doctor replied, “but trust me: there’s no power in the universe – in any of them, in fact – that could stop Jack Harkness when he’s on the roll. I’ve seen him in action before.”
“Me, too,” Owen said,” and I’d really prefer not to watch him in action again. So, can you fix it? Can you fix us?”
“I honestly don’t know,” the Doctor admitted. “I need to see the device first.”
“I’ll show you,” Jack grabbed the Time Lord’s elbow and steered him in the direction of the store room. “Ianto, do you think you could make some tea for a change? The Doctor doesn’t like coffee.”
“Tough,” Ianto replied, crossing his long legs in a manner that made the Doctor stop mid-track, since he was wearing the miniskirt today. “I’m not a teaboy.”
“I’ll make some tea,” Tosh offered. “Ianto can get the rest of you caffeinated in the meantime.”
“I want a biscuit,” Owen said petulantly. “Do we still have some of those ginger biscuits?”
“It depends,” Ianto stood and swayed to the coffee machine. “Have you raided my cupboard since Friday?”
“What?” Owen frowned. “No, I...”
“Then we do have some left,” Ianto declared. “Behave, and I might consider giving you one with your coffee.”
The doctor was still looking slack-jawed from one gorgeous blonde to the other.
“Are they always like this?” he asked.
“No,” Jack replied, “they’re usually a lot worse. Having turned into girls seems to have softened them quite a bit, actually. Come on now, we’ve got things to do.”
He had to practically drag the Time Lord out of the main Hub area.
“As I said: an obsession with blondes,” Martha commented, a little sourly.
“Luckily for us, neither of us is one in our natural state,” Ianto answered, spooning freshly ground coffee into the coffee machine. “Andy here might get problems when changed back, though.”
The panicked look Andy suddenly gave him was priceless.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“A-ha!” the Doctor walked around the broken reality manipulator (nicknamed dream lamp by Archie McAllister) and examined it from every direction. “A nifty little thing… Chulan technology indeed, from the height of their technical revolution.”
“Can you fix it?” Jack asked impatiently.
“Fixing is the easy part – assuming you have a sonic screwdriver,” the Doctor replied absently, producing said item from the pocket of his suit jacket. “The tricky part is to recharge its energy cell; it’s completely replenished.”
“What?!” Jack couldn’t believe it. “That’s impossible! Chulan energy cells of that era were practically inexhaustible and had a built-in regenerating modus!”
“Again with the technobabble!” the Doctor scoffed. “I’ve told you repeatedly that it doesn’t turn me on, so stop wasting my time. This device could have run infinitely, carrying out his original programming: to create pleasant illusions. Changing you for real must have eaten up its last energy reserves; it’s burned out, and if I don’t find a way to recharge it, you and the others are stuck in these forms.”
“You can’t be serious!” Jack felt panic rising inside him. “Chulan energy cells are notoriously incompatible with other energy sources. Does it mean we’re screwed?”
“Not if we manage to channel Rift energy somehow and use it to recharge the batteries of the artefact,” Tosh came in and smiled apologetically. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but I thought you might need some help, Doctor.”
The Time Lord blinked at the lanky young man owlishly. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”
“Not in this form, I’m afraid,” Tosh replied, “but we’ve met before, yes. Although I find you looked better in your previous shape, too.”
“This is Toshiko Sato,” Jack explained.
Realisation dawned, and the Doctor visibly perked up. “Dr. Sato?” he jumped to his feet and shook Tosh’ hand so enthusiastically he almost dislocated her arm. “It’s good to see you again, even under such… unfortunate circumstances. I hope we can find a way to fix this problem and give you back your original self. Now, what were you saying about Rift energy?”
“Well,” Tosh shrugged, “Archie and I were thinking. If the artefact had reacted in such an unusual way to Rift energy, it might be at least partially compatible with it. So, if we had the right technology…”
“…like a sonic screwdriver…” the Doctor was getting the picture.
“… we might be able to recharge the Chulan energy cell,” Tosh finished. “There are no guarantees, of course, but what do we have to lose? The artefact is dead, it’s no like we could break it any more.”
“Perhaps,” the Doctor said. “We ought to give it a try. But even if we can recharge the energy cell, it will be a tricky process to make the device reverse the changes. One mistake and we could end up in an even bigger mess than you are in right now.”
“Let’s Archie do that part,” Tosh suggested. “He’d used the artefact for years before London confiscated it. It’s already attuned to his brainwaves.”
“Hey!” Jack protested. “I’m not gonna lay my fate into the hands of Archie McAllister!”
“Fine!” Tosh snapped, her patience running out. “Keep this lovely shape you’re in right now; I’m sure Ianto wouldn’t mind. I for my part trust Archie to know what he’s doing; and he’s a friend who’ll try his best to help me. Really, Jack, you can be such a git sometimes! Just because Archie doesn’t shag everything on two legs, it doesn’t mean he’d be incompetent in his job.”
The doctor was grinning like a maniac. “I never thought to meet a woman who wouldn’t fall for the notorious Jack Harkness charm head over heels,” he said. “She does have a point, though. We’ll need someone who’s already familiar with the artefact. And I’ll need the exact energy readings from the Rift at the time all this happened,” he turned to Tosh, who nodded.
“Of course, Doctor. “I’ve developed a programme that monitors the Rift seven-twenty-four and documents the energy fluctuations all the time. CCTV footage will provide us with the exact time slot. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll go and call Archie now. He’ll be thrilled to meet you; and to be able to help.”
For a moment, the Doctor looked after her in amazement.
“She’s truly brilliant, are you aware of that?” he asked Jack. “In fact, she’s actually wasted here. With her abilities…”
“She’d be even more wasted rotting in a UNIT prison,” Jack pointed out.
“True enough,” the Doctor said, “though I think I could do something about that. I do have some small influence within UNIT, as you know.”
“You’re here to do something about our current situation, not to deprive me of my only scientist,” Jack pointed out.
“I know,” the Doctor paused. “Jack… there’s another thing. I’m not sure you’ve realised it, but… in this form, you’ve become mortal again. Did you know that?”
“Ianto’s already pointed out the possibility,” Jack answered slowly. “But somehow I didn’t feel like putting the theory to test.”
“Well, yeah, I can see why,” the Doctor paused again, and then asked carefully. “Are you sure you truly want to reverse the changes? You’ve always wanted to get rid of your immortality; to get fixed, as you’ve put it. This would be your chance, you know.”
“My chance for what?” Jack asked bitterly. “To become a burden for my team and my…” he couldn’t find the right word to express what Ianto was for him. “To chain a young lover to me and have him watch me grow old and feeble in a couple of decades, wasting his life with me out of misplaced loyalty?”
“Why would it be misplaced?” the Doctor asked gently. “People do such thing all the time. It’s only human, Jack, and so are you.”
“Not human enough it seems; not anymore,” Jack replied, and the Doctor rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.
“Developed quite the god complex, haven’t you?”
Jack gave him a look that could have cut security glass. “Well, I’ve learned from the best.”
“Are we warming up old grudges again?” the Doctor asked, a little indignantly. “I’ve explained you – repeatedly – what’s happened and why.”
“And that’s supposed to make leaving me behind on some exploding satellite right?” Jack asked. “You owe me, Doctor. I’ve died a thousand deaths for you – is it asking so much that you fix my life, just this one fucking time?”
“I can’t fix your life,” the Doctor said tiredly. “I can try turning you back into the immortal Jack Harkness you used to be a few days ago, or I can leave you as you’re now and you can have a normal life – as long as it lasts and as far as it’s possible while you still are with Torchwood. It’s either the one or the other. I’m sorry, but the way things are, you can’t have both.”
“Well, that sucks,” Jack said sourly. “But if I have to choose, I’d prefer to be myself again and live with the consequences.”
Part 08 - Everything Changes
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Torchwood/Special Unit 2 x-over, with a guest appearance of the Tenth Doctor.
Category: Heavy-duty Gwen bashing and a great deal of silliness.
Rating: 14+, for language. Owen is not happy, and it shows.
Genre: Crackfic, with gender bending, body swap, whatever – the whole nine miles.
Series: none
Timeframe: indefinite. Perhaps “Sleepers”, from Series 2 for Torchwood, but not necessarily.
Summary: Once again, Gwen fumbles around with something she was told not to touch. The consequences are… unusual.
Disclaimer: the usual: don’t own, don’t sue! Everything belongs to RTD and BBC - and UPN, respectively.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART SEVEN: SCREW IT ALL, WE NEED A DOCTOR HERE!
Author’s notes:
Personally, I prefer Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor. Perhaps it’s an age-related thing. But given canon timeline, I had to go for the Tenth Doctor here, so the special guest appearance goes to David Tennant. Applause, please!
And yeah, I know the technobabble is rubbish. It isn’t meant to be taken seriously, either.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Martha, loyal soul that she was, promised to contact the Doctor as soon as she got home. Considering the adventurous meanderings of the TARDIS through space and time, however, it could take everything from ten minutes to ten years to hunt the Time Lord down, and so Jack ordered everyone to return to normal routine. Whatever they might look like at the moment, they still had a job to do, and since they had Andy (officially still on sick leave) instead of Gwen the Gnome, they even had the usual numbers.
It wasn’t that any of his fellow policemen would recognize Andy in his current form anyway.
Fortunately, the effect that had turned Janet into a petrified Gargoyle seemed to have worked for the rest of the Weevils as well. Reports about stone monsters in the sewers kept flooding in, of course. A slightly obsessed archaeologist even came up with the theory that in prehistoric times there had to be a mystic cult centre in the place of Cardiff, housing a previously unknown civilization.
Speculations soon escalated well beyond the merely ridiculous. Ianto had a hard time to remove all true evidence from the news channels and the internet. Even so, private shots kept popping up constantly. Digital cameras and mobile phones with photographic function could be a pest sometimes.
“I suggest lacing the city’ water supplies with Retcon, once it’s over,” he said, rubbing his burning eyes. “What still slips through, we can always blame on mass hysteria and psychedelic drugs.”
“That usually works,” Tosh agreed. “Too bad that, for some reason, UNIT seems to have a problem with it.”
“Just let’s hope this won’t take too long, or things can really get out of control,” Jack answered tiredly. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to feed Rhys halfway convincing lies; despite what Gwen seems to think about him, the man isn’t a fool. Love’s fool, perhaps, but not an idiot. I’m running out of excuses why he can’t even speak to her.”
“He’ll need a massive dosis of that Retcon stuff when this is over,” Andy agreed. “Has been complaining about Gwen’s new job ever since she joined you lot.”
“I’d gladly take him out of your hands,” Ianto said to Jack apologetically, “but it’s unlikely he’d buy the story that I’ve suddenly turned into a woman. A shame, actually; I get along with him well enough.”
“He’s a nice bloke,” Andy said. “He’d deserve better, but he seems to be completely blind when it comes to Gwen.”
“I can handle him,” Jack sighed. “It’s just… I’ve gotten so used to remain young and agile all the time – this older body is making me so ridiculously tired.”
Ianto gave him a thoughtful look. “Jack, the thought’s just occurred to me… What if it isn’t just the body? What if the changes have made you mortal again?”
The mere idea of it obviously shocked Jack a great deal. He might bemoan his inability to die – a fact even Andy had come to terms with during the previous days – the curse of having friends, family and loved ones die around him on a regular basis, and that was a harsh fate indeed. On the other hand, the knowledge that he didn’t have to push others into the firing line since he could afford to die many deaths and come back again, unharmed, was like a drug.
Not the dying part – that was painful every time, and the coming back alive an unpleasant process – but one could get addicted to it nonetheless. Plus, it was sort of a safety net for those he felt responsible for. Re-adjusting to being mortal, and an older, much more vulnerable mortal at that, was a positively frightening perspective.
“God, I hope not!” he blurted out without thinking.
Ianto’s pretty eyes darkened a little at this reaction. “Why not?” he asked. “Wasn’t it you who told me over and over again how much you wanted to be able to live out your life in the normal way?”
Jack glared at him incredulously. “Are you kidding? In this body?”
The honest despair in his voice made Ianto laugh. “You’re so vain,” he said. “As if it would matter to me. It would be still you.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Jack replied glumly. “The ability to take great risks and come back unharmed is part of what makes me the person I am. That keeps Torchwood running. Elderly, mortal and crippled I’m of no use for Torchwood. I’d be a liability. I could get you – all of you – killed, just because I’m no longer my immortal self.”
“What makes you think you can’t get us all killed one day as your old self?” Ianto asked reasonably. “This is Torchwood, Jack, and we all know what the life expectations of a Torchwood employee are, especially here, at the Rift. You can’t shield us from everything.”
“I can try,” Jack answered simply. “Besides, as hot as I find you in this shape, I want my Ianto back. Even if it means that I’ll have to lose you one day.”
“I’d like to have you back, too,” Ianto leaned in and kissed him briefly. “Although you still taste like yourself.”
“Oi, you two!” Owen complained. “Stop it or get a room! I hope that Doctor of yours is gonna show up, soon, cos there’s only so much necking between the two of you that I can take on any given day.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
But it took another two days before the characteristic wheezing and groaning noise of the TARDIS’ landing filled the Hub and the old-fashioned blue police box materialised in the middle of the main area, causing a miniature whirlwind that blew every unfastened piece of paper flow from it place, to Ianto’s great dismay. He’d have to be very quick to save potentially important documents from the cleaning-up frenzy of the changed Myfanwy, who seemed to have developed an appetite for paper.
For a moment, the blue relic just stood there, doing nothing. Then the door swung open, and out hopped a loose-limbed man in a brown suit, with hair so tousled as if he’d been outside the TARDIS when it landed, and a thin, animated, almost manic face. He peered around over his old-fashioned, bone-rimmed glasses, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was. Then he spotted the Torchwood logo on one of the walls and broke into a wide grin.
“So, this is Torchwood Three,” he said. “Quite spectacular, I must say… in a manner. Where’s Jack?”
“Standing in the door of that office upstairs and staring down at you like a kid in a candy shop,” the beautiful, regal black woman following him out of the TARDIS replied.
The Doctor – beacuse who else could he have been? – looked up at the ‘new and improved’ Jack… and promptly broke down in a series of hysterical giggles.
“Oh, my word!” he wheeezed. “When you told me you’ve found a grey hair a few months ago, I didn’t believe the aging process would be quite so fast. In the end, there will be some truth in the Face of Boe myth, after all!”
And he fell into another series of giggles. Jack shook his head in exasperation.
“You know,” he said to Martha sourly, “I think I definitely liked the previous regeneration better. It wasn’t nearly so cheeky… and a lot more mature.”
“And you never mentioned that he had sentient hair,” Ianto commented, eyeing the unruly mass of hair covering the Time Lord’s head. “Or is this a new development?”
“Nah, I think it came ready-made with the cheek,” Jack replied.
“And with the obsession with dumb blondes,” Martha commented sotto voce. “You better keep an eye on your collection, Jack, lest he spirits one of them away as his next companion.”
“Hey!” Jack said indignantly. “My blondes are not dumb! They’re smart, feisty and reliable. Besides, they’re both guys… well, at least they used to be.”
“And would like very much to become ones again,” Ianto added with a brilliant smile.
“And I’d like to turn back to a woman,” Tosh said. “And I’m sure Andy here would want to get back the several inches of height he’s lost.”
The doctor ran his hand through his sentient hair as Ianto had called it.
“All right, this is really confusing,” he said. “Martha mentioned something about a reality manipulator…?”
“A Chulan one,” Jack supplied helpfully.
“A broken one,” Ianto added, and the Doctor pulled an unhappy face.
“Ow! Those are tricky.”
Tosh nodded. “That’s what Archie said, too.”
“Who’s Archie?” the information overload seemed to confuse the Doctor even more.
“Sir, Archibald McAllister, a Scotsman of noble, albeit unimportant heritage and leader of Torchwood Two, currently waiting in his hotel room to be called, should he be needed,” Ianto intoned gravely; then he grinned. “However, he wanted us to call him simply Archie. A most… personable man, I’d say.”
“Ianto!” Jack warned him darkly.
Ianto batted his impossibly long eyelashes at him. “Jealous, Jack?”
“Of Archie?” Jack rolled his eyes. “You gotta be kidding, right?”
Ianto shrugged, causing certain parts of his recently acquired anatomy to jiggle enticingly as a result. “Why? Personally, I do find a man in a kilt hot…”
“…as long as he doesn’t wear anything under the kilt,” Jack finished for him, grinning like a loon.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t start again, you two!” Owen groaned. Then he turned to the Doctor, with his desperate plea mirroring on his lovely face. “Listen, you’re obviously the god in Jack’s private pantheon, can’t you, please, fix the fucking device before I go insane from their public mating rituals?”
“I can certainly try,” the Doctor replied, “but trust me: there’s no power in the universe – in any of them, in fact – that could stop Jack Harkness when he’s on the roll. I’ve seen him in action before.”
“Me, too,” Owen said,” and I’d really prefer not to watch him in action again. So, can you fix it? Can you fix us?”
“I honestly don’t know,” the Doctor admitted. “I need to see the device first.”
“I’ll show you,” Jack grabbed the Time Lord’s elbow and steered him in the direction of the store room. “Ianto, do you think you could make some tea for a change? The Doctor doesn’t like coffee.”
“Tough,” Ianto replied, crossing his long legs in a manner that made the Doctor stop mid-track, since he was wearing the miniskirt today. “I’m not a teaboy.”
“I’ll make some tea,” Tosh offered. “Ianto can get the rest of you caffeinated in the meantime.”
“I want a biscuit,” Owen said petulantly. “Do we still have some of those ginger biscuits?”
“It depends,” Ianto stood and swayed to the coffee machine. “Have you raided my cupboard since Friday?”
“What?” Owen frowned. “No, I...”
“Then we do have some left,” Ianto declared. “Behave, and I might consider giving you one with your coffee.”
The doctor was still looking slack-jawed from one gorgeous blonde to the other.
“Are they always like this?” he asked.
“No,” Jack replied, “they’re usually a lot worse. Having turned into girls seems to have softened them quite a bit, actually. Come on now, we’ve got things to do.”
He had to practically drag the Time Lord out of the main Hub area.
“As I said: an obsession with blondes,” Martha commented, a little sourly.
“Luckily for us, neither of us is one in our natural state,” Ianto answered, spooning freshly ground coffee into the coffee machine. “Andy here might get problems when changed back, though.”
The panicked look Andy suddenly gave him was priceless.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“A-ha!” the Doctor walked around the broken reality manipulator (nicknamed dream lamp by Archie McAllister) and examined it from every direction. “A nifty little thing… Chulan technology indeed, from the height of their technical revolution.”
“Can you fix it?” Jack asked impatiently.
“Fixing is the easy part – assuming you have a sonic screwdriver,” the Doctor replied absently, producing said item from the pocket of his suit jacket. “The tricky part is to recharge its energy cell; it’s completely replenished.”
“What?!” Jack couldn’t believe it. “That’s impossible! Chulan energy cells of that era were practically inexhaustible and had a built-in regenerating modus!”
“Again with the technobabble!” the Doctor scoffed. “I’ve told you repeatedly that it doesn’t turn me on, so stop wasting my time. This device could have run infinitely, carrying out his original programming: to create pleasant illusions. Changing you for real must have eaten up its last energy reserves; it’s burned out, and if I don’t find a way to recharge it, you and the others are stuck in these forms.”
“You can’t be serious!” Jack felt panic rising inside him. “Chulan energy cells are notoriously incompatible with other energy sources. Does it mean we’re screwed?”
“Not if we manage to channel Rift energy somehow and use it to recharge the batteries of the artefact,” Tosh came in and smiled apologetically. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but I thought you might need some help, Doctor.”
The Time Lord blinked at the lanky young man owlishly. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”
“Not in this form, I’m afraid,” Tosh replied, “but we’ve met before, yes. Although I find you looked better in your previous shape, too.”
“This is Toshiko Sato,” Jack explained.
Realisation dawned, and the Doctor visibly perked up. “Dr. Sato?” he jumped to his feet and shook Tosh’ hand so enthusiastically he almost dislocated her arm. “It’s good to see you again, even under such… unfortunate circumstances. I hope we can find a way to fix this problem and give you back your original self. Now, what were you saying about Rift energy?”
“Well,” Tosh shrugged, “Archie and I were thinking. If the artefact had reacted in such an unusual way to Rift energy, it might be at least partially compatible with it. So, if we had the right technology…”
“…like a sonic screwdriver…” the Doctor was getting the picture.
“… we might be able to recharge the Chulan energy cell,” Tosh finished. “There are no guarantees, of course, but what do we have to lose? The artefact is dead, it’s no like we could break it any more.”
“Perhaps,” the Doctor said. “We ought to give it a try. But even if we can recharge the energy cell, it will be a tricky process to make the device reverse the changes. One mistake and we could end up in an even bigger mess than you are in right now.”
“Let’s Archie do that part,” Tosh suggested. “He’d used the artefact for years before London confiscated it. It’s already attuned to his brainwaves.”
“Hey!” Jack protested. “I’m not gonna lay my fate into the hands of Archie McAllister!”
“Fine!” Tosh snapped, her patience running out. “Keep this lovely shape you’re in right now; I’m sure Ianto wouldn’t mind. I for my part trust Archie to know what he’s doing; and he’s a friend who’ll try his best to help me. Really, Jack, you can be such a git sometimes! Just because Archie doesn’t shag everything on two legs, it doesn’t mean he’d be incompetent in his job.”
The doctor was grinning like a maniac. “I never thought to meet a woman who wouldn’t fall for the notorious Jack Harkness charm head over heels,” he said. “She does have a point, though. We’ll need someone who’s already familiar with the artefact. And I’ll need the exact energy readings from the Rift at the time all this happened,” he turned to Tosh, who nodded.
“Of course, Doctor. “I’ve developed a programme that monitors the Rift seven-twenty-four and documents the energy fluctuations all the time. CCTV footage will provide us with the exact time slot. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll go and call Archie now. He’ll be thrilled to meet you; and to be able to help.”
For a moment, the Doctor looked after her in amazement.
“She’s truly brilliant, are you aware of that?” he asked Jack. “In fact, she’s actually wasted here. With her abilities…”
“She’d be even more wasted rotting in a UNIT prison,” Jack pointed out.
“True enough,” the Doctor said, “though I think I could do something about that. I do have some small influence within UNIT, as you know.”
“You’re here to do something about our current situation, not to deprive me of my only scientist,” Jack pointed out.
“I know,” the Doctor paused. “Jack… there’s another thing. I’m not sure you’ve realised it, but… in this form, you’ve become mortal again. Did you know that?”
“Ianto’s already pointed out the possibility,” Jack answered slowly. “But somehow I didn’t feel like putting the theory to test.”
“Well, yeah, I can see why,” the Doctor paused again, and then asked carefully. “Are you sure you truly want to reverse the changes? You’ve always wanted to get rid of your immortality; to get fixed, as you’ve put it. This would be your chance, you know.”
“My chance for what?” Jack asked bitterly. “To become a burden for my team and my…” he couldn’t find the right word to express what Ianto was for him. “To chain a young lover to me and have him watch me grow old and feeble in a couple of decades, wasting his life with me out of misplaced loyalty?”
“Why would it be misplaced?” the Doctor asked gently. “People do such thing all the time. It’s only human, Jack, and so are you.”
“Not human enough it seems; not anymore,” Jack replied, and the Doctor rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.
“Developed quite the god complex, haven’t you?”
Jack gave him a look that could have cut security glass. “Well, I’ve learned from the best.”
“Are we warming up old grudges again?” the Doctor asked, a little indignantly. “I’ve explained you – repeatedly – what’s happened and why.”
“And that’s supposed to make leaving me behind on some exploding satellite right?” Jack asked. “You owe me, Doctor. I’ve died a thousand deaths for you – is it asking so much that you fix my life, just this one fucking time?”
“I can’t fix your life,” the Doctor said tiredly. “I can try turning you back into the immortal Jack Harkness you used to be a few days ago, or I can leave you as you’re now and you can have a normal life – as long as it lasts and as far as it’s possible while you still are with Torchwood. It’s either the one or the other. I’m sorry, but the way things are, you can’t have both.”
“Well, that sucks,” Jack said sourly. “But if I have to choose, I’d prefer to be myself again and live with the consequences.”
Part 08 - Everything Changes