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brigadiertardis Ghost in the machine
Dec. 27th, 2009 03:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Torchwood didn't keep hours. Torchwood couldn't keep hours. Not with the sort of work they did. Alien invaders didn't really respect when people might like to have a nice night in in front of the telly, or sleep in late in the morning. They didn't care if you wanted to start at nine and finish at five.
But sometimes, Jack just had to accept that even his staff needed lives of their own. Admittedly, of course, that would often be when Gwen picked up her bag and declared she was going home, without giving Jack option either way. But accept it he did. He knew people needed time to themselves, and times away from the underground confines of the Hub. And so some nights he'd end up there alone, an old record player on echoing out a cracked recording of Gracie Fields and a self made (infinitely worse than Ianto's) cup of coffee in hand.
This was one of those nights.
He sat in his office, listening to the sound of the music as he jotted down notes on paperwork he'd left waiting for weeks. To his side a computer ran a regular nightly scan for any activity in the area. Nothing, just the way he liked it. Cardiff safe.
Nothing strange (which was almost strange in and of itself), nothing out of the ordinary or abnormal. Nothing that was until a little alarm started sounding.
He ought to have known things would never run smoothly.
Pushing aside his papers he leant forward and prodded keys on the keyboard. Strange, he thought, the reading wasn't something he recognised. Some sort of transmission. It seemed to be harnessing the rift, but how? He keyed a little more and then the screen flickered, putting him on edge.
Something wasn't right.
But sometimes, Jack just had to accept that even his staff needed lives of their own. Admittedly, of course, that would often be when Gwen picked up her bag and declared she was going home, without giving Jack option either way. But accept it he did. He knew people needed time to themselves, and times away from the underground confines of the Hub. And so some nights he'd end up there alone, an old record player on echoing out a cracked recording of Gracie Fields and a self made (infinitely worse than Ianto's) cup of coffee in hand.
This was one of those nights.
He sat in his office, listening to the sound of the music as he jotted down notes on paperwork he'd left waiting for weeks. To his side a computer ran a regular nightly scan for any activity in the area. Nothing, just the way he liked it. Cardiff safe.
Nothing strange (which was almost strange in and of itself), nothing out of the ordinary or abnormal. Nothing that was until a little alarm started sounding.
He ought to have known things would never run smoothly.
Pushing aside his papers he leant forward and prodded keys on the keyboard. Strange, he thought, the reading wasn't something he recognised. Some sort of transmission. It seemed to be harnessing the rift, but how? He keyed a little more and then the screen flickered, putting him on edge.
Something wasn't right.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-28 04:50 am (UTC)She'd been trapped one too many times in her long life to harbour any positive feelings toward it, that was certain.
He chuckled about curses and trouble and she didn't reply immediately, weighing his final question. He at least deserved an honest answer.
"I do not like what you have become," she said finally. "I do not like that you have taken away one who belonged to me."
no subject
Date: 2009-12-28 08:44 pm (UTC)He headed down to the level below and kept quiet as she spoke. He kept quiet after too. The words cut. They hurt, but he didn't really want that to show.
"Yeah, well," he said in the end, because he felt he had to say something, "between you and me, not sure I like it much either."
no subject
Date: 2009-12-28 11:43 pm (UTC)Whether she noticed his hurt or not, the TARDIS didn't say. She let him speak, considering his words. This wasn't something she was used to, and she wasn't exactly the most sympathetic being in the universe, even after the Time War. Or maybe it was because of the War that Jack's change hurt so much. She'd loved him once and now it was painful to even be around him. To have something taken away so completely after losing so much...
"I would fix you if I could," she offered quietly. "But even I cannot change what you have become. Rose Tyler used me and I cannot fix what she destroyed."
no subject
Date: 2009-12-30 07:31 pm (UTC)Ahead of them was a box secured with a key, and he pulled a bunch out from his pocket to unlatch it. Inside was an access panel to the central matrix of the computer system.
"Would you?" he asked with his own voice quiet, concealing emotion as best he could. "Wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for you, I suppose. You and Rose. I'd have stayed dead on Satellite Five. Funny, you know I don't think I'd ever thought about it like that."
no subject
Date: 2010-01-01 09:50 pm (UTC)She went silent, observing their location for a long while, surprised somewhat by how extensive it all was. She hadn't been expecting it.
"What she did was wrong. It would have been better to die than to become what you are. She is a child and she ruined you." Her voice faded and she added: "But if I could change it, yes, I would. I would like to have you back."