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badly_knittedTitle: Operation Rift Repair
Fandom: Torchwood/NCIS New Orleans
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Jack, Ianto, Duane Pride, Loretta Wade, Others.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3082
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There’s a very inconvenient and unanticipated problem with the Rift that can only be fixed by means of a trip to New Orleans during a big music festival.
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Weekend Challenge: Grab Bag Part II at
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1_million_words.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Torchwood Three was based in Cardiff, Wales for a reason: that was where the Rift in time and space, that dropped sundry items from other worlds and time periods on an unsuspecting earth was located, which made Cardiff the most convenient place to be for the people whose job it was to collect such items and keep them from falling into the wrong hands. Only now there had been a slight… hiccup in operations, because, while delivering a particularly large piece of junk, which Jack claimed was part of a spaceship engine, the Rift had somehow split, and a small section had skittered around the globe to anchor itself in New Orleans, of all places. Clearly, this was less than ideal.
Tosh, working feverishly, and with help from Ianto, Jack, and a bunch of components stored in the archives, had come up with a pair of devices that should, in theory, reintegrate the straying Rift fragment with its parent in Cardiff, but first one of the devices would need to be taken to New Orleans, and activated at the correct coordinates at the precise moment the one in Cardiff was activated. The timing wouldn’t be a problem, both devices had been fitted with synchronised countdown timers, and getting one to New Orleans wouldn’t be an issue either, since UNIT had agreed to transport it, along with Jack and Ianto, to the city, without the need for going through customs.
The trouble was, the coordinates for the Rift fragment put its location in City Park, which was currently hosting the tenth Voodoo Music and Arts Experience, a massive event showcasing dozens of new and established bands and artists, and with an audience numbering in the thousands. Getting to exactly the right spot amid crowds of concertgoers with a device the size of large a suitcase wasn’t going to be easy, but it needed to be done as fast as possible, before the Rift fragment could start spitting out alien technology, or actual aliens, among the attendees. That would be bad enough, but there was also the possibility of a negative Rift spike snatching one or more people in full view of hundreds of witnesses.
The New Orleans branch of NCIS, being the most readily available military-adjacent organisation in the area, were being conscripted for assistance, and SSA Dwayne Pride had agreed to help out personally. He’d met Jack once before through Ducky Mallard, who had some very amusing anecdotes to tell concerning the head of Torchwood Three, having once been interrupted by the supposed deceased man suddenly sitting up as he’d been about to begin an autopsy to determine cause of death…
Unsurprisingly, it had turned out that ingesting Tetrodotoxin was not something Jack would recommend. Then again, he hadn’t done it deliberately; someone had poisoned him, believing it to be a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Needless to say, it had proved considerably less permanent than expected, much to the poisoner’s regret. Jack and Ducky were still friends to this day.
Well, anyway, Pride’s assistance was welcome, the cooperation of someone familiar with the area who was also known to be trustworthy was always preferable to having to work alongside a complete stranger. Fewer explanations were required, and Pride was more likely to take whatever he was told on faith, accepting that Jack and Ianto knew what they were doing.
“So we just need to get your… whatever that is to the right coordinates at the right time and that should fix everything?” Pride asked, gesturing at the device, a matt black metallic rectangle approximately twenty-two inches tall, sixteen inches wide, and nine inches deep, built onto a framework so that it vaguely resembled the kind of wheeled suitcase currently used by travellers the world over.
“Through a busy and crowded music festival, yes,” Ianto agreed. “That’s likely to be the most difficult part, there’s very little margin for error either in positioning or timing, and for the sake of safety, there shouldn’t be anyone within ten feet of it, in any direction when it’s triggered.” He held up a remote control with a single switch on it. “By this. There is a small possibility that the device itself might drag anything in close proximity to it back to Cardiff, and an even smaller but not insignificant, chance that anything travelling along with the device might get diverted to… somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?”
“Practically anywhere in the universe.”
“Right.” Pride nodded. “So we’ll need a clear space a minimum of twenty feet in diameter around the coordinates… I’d better bring my agents and a few other people with me to help secure the area, and we should aim to get there an hour or so ahead of time, so we can clear the area and mark it out with tape.”
Ianto nodded. “That would probably be wise.”
“Who’s going to be onstage while we’re there?” Jack was flipping through some flyers for the festival.
“Jack, we are NOT going for the show, we have a job to do!”
“I know that; I was just asking. I mean, we’ll already be there, would it hurt if we hung around afterwards for a bit to listen?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “He was hoping to catch the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, but according to the schedule, they were on yesterday, while we were in transit,” he explained.
“I saw them live back in the early eighties, now that was a memorable experience. New Orleans jazz is the best in the world.”
“If you don’t have to go back to Cardiff right away, you should come by my bar. There’s live music just about every night,” Pride suggested.
“Providing nothing goes wrong this evening, we might be able to stick around for a day or two. Just to make sure there aren’t any unanticipated residual effects. Right, Ianto?” Jack looked pleadingly at his lover.
“We’ll see, but only if you promise to be on your best behaviour, and that means no hitting on Agent Pride’s people, among other things. I know it’s difficult for you, but I’d appreciate it if you’d at least try to behave professionally for once.”
Pride frowned, looking from Jack to Ianto, then back again. “I thought you were the one in charge.”
Jack sighed. “I used to think so too, but Ianto is so much better at logistics and organisation than I am. I’d happily put him in charge of Torchwood Three, but he doesn’t want my job, and I don’t blame him; a lot of the time I don’t want it either, but I’m stuck with it.”
“You’re the public face of Torchwood,” Ianto reminded Jack. “I work better behind the scenes, so to speak. Cleaning up after you has always been a large part of my job, and it’s easier to do when most people don’t know who I am. Everyone recognises you, and you like it that way, don’t deny it.”
“Wouldn’t think of it!” Jack flashed that ridiculously wide, white smile, and Pride suppressed a chuckle. It was difficult to imagine anyone not noticing Torchwood Three’s captain; Jack demanded attention simply by existing, there was a magnetic quality about him made him impossible to ignore.
They drove out to the park in a nondescript panel van, fitted with bench seats in the back. The half dozen other people Pride had brought in to help had been warned not to ask questions; this operation was on a need-to-know basis, and they didn’t need to know anything they hadn’t already been told. Still, that didn’t exactly curb their curiosity about the two men in the van with them, one dressed in a WWII era military greatcoat, and the other in an expensive suit that was going to look even more out of place at a music festival than the greatcoat, which could be considered fancy dress. A fair percentage of the concertgoers would probably be wearing costumes of some description, some of them downright outlandish; the people of New Orleans knew how to party, and they were good at it.
They had to walk from the parking lot to the coordinates, deep inside City Park. Pride’s ID got them into the concert arena without any trouble, and Ianto’s handheld device, a PDA unlike anything the NCIS agents had ever seen, guided them to the right spot. Ianto was also towing the ‘suitcase’, unwilling to let anyone else, including Jack, take charge of it. He’d promised Tosh that he’d take care of it because they didn’t have a spare. Jack had pouted at the time, but by now he was happy to leave it to Ianto. It was heavier than it looked, and anyway, Jack had an image to maintain. Dragging a heavy suitcase wasn’t part of it.
Surprisingly, as they approached the designated spot, where the Rift fragment had anchored itself, the crowds thinned out; people seemed to be skirting the area, or crossing it quickly, and by the time they were within thirty feet of the coordinates, everyone knew why. The air felt somehow prickly, tingling unpleasantly across bare skin, and making their teeth itch. Several of the NCIS personnel sneezed, and most of then were fidgeting inside their clothes.
“At least we know this is the right spot,” Ianto said mildly as he checked his scanner and manoeuvred the bulky device into exactly the right position, turning it until the handle was aimed in the general direction of Cardiff. The others, following Pride’s instructions, formed a circle around the device with their backs to it and took ten paces in whichever direction they were facing before pushing the metal stanchions they’d brought with them into the ground and stringing caution tape between them. Then they took up position outside the barrier they’d created, glad they didn’t have to be any closer.
Pride, despite looking more than a little uncomfortable himself, remained inside the barrier with Jack and Ianto.
“Now what?”
Jack shrugged. “Now we wait. There’s nothing much we can do until it’s time.”
Ianto crouched in front of the device, opened a hatch in the side, checked a few connections to make sure nothing had been jolted loose in transit, then flicked a couple of switches, powering it up and putting it into standby mode. Closing the hatch, satisfied that everything was working properly, he straightened up, smoothing barely visible creases out of his pants, and came to stand beside Jack, pulling an antique stopwatch from his inside jacket pocket.
“Ten minutes and counting,” he said in his lilting Welsh accent, smiling easily, apparently barely noticing the discomfort of being in such close proximity to the Rift fragment.
People continued to pass by, peering curiously past the makeshift barrier and the people guarding it. Someone asked what was going on, were they with the bomb squad or something, and Jack replied that it was nothing like that, the device was simply monitoring the strange air disturbances that people had been reporting.
“Nothing to worry about. Might be feedback from some of the stage equipment so we’re trying to track it to the source and fix it.”
“Riiiight.” The guy nodded. “Was wonderin’ why my teeth itch.”
“Should have it sorted soon. Hope you’re enjoying the festival.”
“It’s wild, man!” He wandered off to tell his friends.
Pride raised his eyebrows.
“Always have a convincing cover story to hand,” Ianto murmured. “Standard Torchwood procedure.” He glanced at his stopwatch. “Three minutes.” In his other hand he held the remote control, thumb hovering near the switch, ready to activate the device.
“Should we step outside the barrier?” Pride asked.
“We’re a good fifteen feet from the device, so we should be fine right here. Just don’t go any closer.” Ianto was focussed intently on the hand sweeping around the face of the stopwatch, ticking down the seconds, and everyone waited, not quite holding their breath, but certainly feeling tense. “Five, four, three, two, one…” Ianto flicked the switch on the remote control, and…
For several seconds, it didn’t seem that anything would happen, but then the bulky black device began to shimmer, like oil rainbows were passing across its surface, rippling and twisting, distorting its shape. A low humming filled the air, almost below hearing range, the itching in their teeth increased, the hum built in intensity, causing several speakers on the nearest stage to emit an ear-splitting screech. Then there was a brilliant flash of golden light, and when they blinked their eyes clear, the device was gone. So was a circular patch of ground, approximately a foot deep and eight feet in diameter.
Ianto was putting his stopwatch away when his phone rang; he answered it. “Tosh?”
“Looks like it worked. There’s a bit of a mess here, soil and grass scattered all over the place, and the device is smashed, it sort of exploded on impact. It’s a good thing we cleared the predicted arrival area. Is everyone alright where you are?”
“We seem to be. A few of our helpers are looking a bit dazed, but…” He trailed off. “Jack, maybe you shouldn’t get too close just… Oh shit!”
Jack, curious about the crater that now existed in what had been a perfectly normal expanse of recently mown grass, had approached the edge and was peering into it when Ianto’s ears caught a sort of high-pitched whistle that was growing louder, and before he could move, one of the wheels off the trolley that the device had been constructed on slammed into the back of Jack’s head, pitching him face first into the hole.
“Ianto?” Tosh’s voice came over the phone. “Ianto? What’s happening?”
“Not all of the device made the return trip, a bit of the trolley just took Jack out. Got to go.” Already moving, Ianto hung up, shoved the phone into his pocket, and reached Jack just before Agent Pride. “Idiot. Sometimes I wonder if you even listen to me.”
Pride dropped down beside Jack, but the Black woman who’d accompanied them unceremoniously pushed him aside. “Oh no! This is not good.” These was blood matting the back of Jack’s head; he was beginning to stir. “Don’t try to move, you’re hurt.” Loretta Wade glanced up at Pride and Ianto. “We need to immobilise him, he could have a skull fracture, even a broken neck.”
“No need for any of that, Loretta,” Pride assured her. “He’ll be fine, it’ll take more than an unidentified falling object to put him down for the count.”
“What are you talking about? He has a serious head injury!”
Jack floundered a bit, because head down in a large hole was an awkward position to get out of, but he managed to fight off restraining hands and, with help from Ianto, sit up.
“Ianto? What just hit me?” He sounded more indignant than hurt.
“A wheel.” Ianto held it up. “I tried to tell you not to get too close. There was always the chance that only the device itself would pass through the Rift, leaving the trolley, or parts of it, behind. You’re lucky it was only a wheel, or you might have ended up impaled, and you know how annoyed I get when you tear your coat.”
“Sometimes I think you care more about this coat than you do about me.”
“Not true, I just don’t like being handed more repair work on top of all my other responsibilities; there are only so many hours in a day.”
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Loretta sounded a bit put out, as well she might; while she spent most of her time looking after the dead, she was fully qualified to tend to the living, when necessary.
“You should have a chat with Ducky about Captain Harkness,” Pride told his friend with a wry grin, keeping his voice low. “They’ve known each other almost forty years, and… well, let’s just say the captain’s not like other people.”
“Forty years? I find that hard to believe. Let me look at your head.”
“Let’s move back to the barrier,” Ianto suggested, looking nervously upward. “Just in case anything else decides to make landfall.”
“Is that likely?” Pride looked up as well.
“Probably not, but it’s best not to take unnecessary chances. The rest of us aren’t as… resilient as Jack.”
They moved close to the barrier, where the rest of Pride’s people were doing their best to keep the curious away, and Loretta checked Jack’s head.
“There’s no wound,” she murmured, keeping her voice to a quiet murmur so that no one would overhear.
“I heal fast,” Jack said easily.
“How…”
“Long story, maybe I’ll tell you later. Ducky speaks highly of you.”
“Yes, well…”
“Agent Pride,” Ianto interrupted, “Now that we’re finished here, do you think you could perhaps contact someone to fill that hole in before someone hurts themselves? We can move the barrier closer and leave it here for the time being, but it’s a bit of a hazard.”
Pride nodded. “I’ll see if I can get that arranged on our way back to the van. In the meantime, I’ll leave a couple of people here to move the barrier and keep an eye on things.”
“Thank you.” Stooping, Ianto scooped up the stray wheel again and looked at it. “Better hold on to this in case the other one made it back to Cardiff.”
“Is your life always this weird?” Pride asked as they set off back towards the parking lot.
“Oh, trust me,” Jack beamed at the other man. “This was nothing. You want to see weird, you should come visit us in Cardiff sometime.”
“Might just take you up on that. How about you, think you can stay long enough to stop by my bar for drinks and some good N’Orleans cooking?”
“I’ll contact UNIT, arrange for transport back to Cardiff in, say, three days?” Ianto looked at Jack, one eyebrow raised.
Jack beamed at his lover. “That sounds perfect, it’ll give me a chance to answer any questions Ms Wade might have, maybe call Ducky, and then you and I can enjoy some genuine New Orleans nightlife. Good food, great music… You’re gonna love it.”
“I’ll get on that then.” Ianto pulled out his phone to contact UNIT while Pride put in a call on his own phone to… presumably someone who could deal with the hole they’d left behind in City Park.
Aside from a few minor hiccups, Operation Rift Repair had been a great success.
The End
Tosh, working feverishly, and with help from Ianto, Jack, and a bunch of components stored in the archives, had come up with a pair of devices that should, in theory, reintegrate the straying Rift fragment with its parent in Cardiff, but first one of the devices would need to be taken to New Orleans, and activated at the correct coordinates at the precise moment the one in Cardiff was activated. The timing wouldn’t be a problem, both devices had been fitted with synchronised countdown timers, and getting one to New Orleans wouldn’t be an issue either, since UNIT had agreed to transport it, along with Jack and Ianto, to the city, without the need for going through customs.
The trouble was, the coordinates for the Rift fragment put its location in City Park, which was currently hosting the tenth Voodoo Music and Arts Experience, a massive event showcasing dozens of new and established bands and artists, and with an audience numbering in the thousands. Getting to exactly the right spot amid crowds of concertgoers with a device the size of large a suitcase wasn’t going to be easy, but it needed to be done as fast as possible, before the Rift fragment could start spitting out alien technology, or actual aliens, among the attendees. That would be bad enough, but there was also the possibility of a negative Rift spike snatching one or more people in full view of hundreds of witnesses.
The New Orleans branch of NCIS, being the most readily available military-adjacent organisation in the area, were being conscripted for assistance, and SSA Dwayne Pride had agreed to help out personally. He’d met Jack once before through Ducky Mallard, who had some very amusing anecdotes to tell concerning the head of Torchwood Three, having once been interrupted by the supposed deceased man suddenly sitting up as he’d been about to begin an autopsy to determine cause of death…
Unsurprisingly, it had turned out that ingesting Tetrodotoxin was not something Jack would recommend. Then again, he hadn’t done it deliberately; someone had poisoned him, believing it to be a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Needless to say, it had proved considerably less permanent than expected, much to the poisoner’s regret. Jack and Ducky were still friends to this day.
Well, anyway, Pride’s assistance was welcome, the cooperation of someone familiar with the area who was also known to be trustworthy was always preferable to having to work alongside a complete stranger. Fewer explanations were required, and Pride was more likely to take whatever he was told on faith, accepting that Jack and Ianto knew what they were doing.
“So we just need to get your… whatever that is to the right coordinates at the right time and that should fix everything?” Pride asked, gesturing at the device, a matt black metallic rectangle approximately twenty-two inches tall, sixteen inches wide, and nine inches deep, built onto a framework so that it vaguely resembled the kind of wheeled suitcase currently used by travellers the world over.
“Through a busy and crowded music festival, yes,” Ianto agreed. “That’s likely to be the most difficult part, there’s very little margin for error either in positioning or timing, and for the sake of safety, there shouldn’t be anyone within ten feet of it, in any direction when it’s triggered.” He held up a remote control with a single switch on it. “By this. There is a small possibility that the device itself might drag anything in close proximity to it back to Cardiff, and an even smaller but not insignificant, chance that anything travelling along with the device might get diverted to… somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?”
“Practically anywhere in the universe.”
“Right.” Pride nodded. “So we’ll need a clear space a minimum of twenty feet in diameter around the coordinates… I’d better bring my agents and a few other people with me to help secure the area, and we should aim to get there an hour or so ahead of time, so we can clear the area and mark it out with tape.”
Ianto nodded. “That would probably be wise.”
“Who’s going to be onstage while we’re there?” Jack was flipping through some flyers for the festival.
“Jack, we are NOT going for the show, we have a job to do!”
“I know that; I was just asking. I mean, we’ll already be there, would it hurt if we hung around afterwards for a bit to listen?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “He was hoping to catch the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, but according to the schedule, they were on yesterday, while we were in transit,” he explained.
“I saw them live back in the early eighties, now that was a memorable experience. New Orleans jazz is the best in the world.”
“If you don’t have to go back to Cardiff right away, you should come by my bar. There’s live music just about every night,” Pride suggested.
“Providing nothing goes wrong this evening, we might be able to stick around for a day or two. Just to make sure there aren’t any unanticipated residual effects. Right, Ianto?” Jack looked pleadingly at his lover.
“We’ll see, but only if you promise to be on your best behaviour, and that means no hitting on Agent Pride’s people, among other things. I know it’s difficult for you, but I’d appreciate it if you’d at least try to behave professionally for once.”
Pride frowned, looking from Jack to Ianto, then back again. “I thought you were the one in charge.”
Jack sighed. “I used to think so too, but Ianto is so much better at logistics and organisation than I am. I’d happily put him in charge of Torchwood Three, but he doesn’t want my job, and I don’t blame him; a lot of the time I don’t want it either, but I’m stuck with it.”
“You’re the public face of Torchwood,” Ianto reminded Jack. “I work better behind the scenes, so to speak. Cleaning up after you has always been a large part of my job, and it’s easier to do when most people don’t know who I am. Everyone recognises you, and you like it that way, don’t deny it.”
“Wouldn’t think of it!” Jack flashed that ridiculously wide, white smile, and Pride suppressed a chuckle. It was difficult to imagine anyone not noticing Torchwood Three’s captain; Jack demanded attention simply by existing, there was a magnetic quality about him made him impossible to ignore.
They drove out to the park in a nondescript panel van, fitted with bench seats in the back. The half dozen other people Pride had brought in to help had been warned not to ask questions; this operation was on a need-to-know basis, and they didn’t need to know anything they hadn’t already been told. Still, that didn’t exactly curb their curiosity about the two men in the van with them, one dressed in a WWII era military greatcoat, and the other in an expensive suit that was going to look even more out of place at a music festival than the greatcoat, which could be considered fancy dress. A fair percentage of the concertgoers would probably be wearing costumes of some description, some of them downright outlandish; the people of New Orleans knew how to party, and they were good at it.
They had to walk from the parking lot to the coordinates, deep inside City Park. Pride’s ID got them into the concert arena without any trouble, and Ianto’s handheld device, a PDA unlike anything the NCIS agents had ever seen, guided them to the right spot. Ianto was also towing the ‘suitcase’, unwilling to let anyone else, including Jack, take charge of it. He’d promised Tosh that he’d take care of it because they didn’t have a spare. Jack had pouted at the time, but by now he was happy to leave it to Ianto. It was heavier than it looked, and anyway, Jack had an image to maintain. Dragging a heavy suitcase wasn’t part of it.
Surprisingly, as they approached the designated spot, where the Rift fragment had anchored itself, the crowds thinned out; people seemed to be skirting the area, or crossing it quickly, and by the time they were within thirty feet of the coordinates, everyone knew why. The air felt somehow prickly, tingling unpleasantly across bare skin, and making their teeth itch. Several of the NCIS personnel sneezed, and most of then were fidgeting inside their clothes.
“At least we know this is the right spot,” Ianto said mildly as he checked his scanner and manoeuvred the bulky device into exactly the right position, turning it until the handle was aimed in the general direction of Cardiff. The others, following Pride’s instructions, formed a circle around the device with their backs to it and took ten paces in whichever direction they were facing before pushing the metal stanchions they’d brought with them into the ground and stringing caution tape between them. Then they took up position outside the barrier they’d created, glad they didn’t have to be any closer.
Pride, despite looking more than a little uncomfortable himself, remained inside the barrier with Jack and Ianto.
“Now what?”
Jack shrugged. “Now we wait. There’s nothing much we can do until it’s time.”
Ianto crouched in front of the device, opened a hatch in the side, checked a few connections to make sure nothing had been jolted loose in transit, then flicked a couple of switches, powering it up and putting it into standby mode. Closing the hatch, satisfied that everything was working properly, he straightened up, smoothing barely visible creases out of his pants, and came to stand beside Jack, pulling an antique stopwatch from his inside jacket pocket.
“Ten minutes and counting,” he said in his lilting Welsh accent, smiling easily, apparently barely noticing the discomfort of being in such close proximity to the Rift fragment.
People continued to pass by, peering curiously past the makeshift barrier and the people guarding it. Someone asked what was going on, were they with the bomb squad or something, and Jack replied that it was nothing like that, the device was simply monitoring the strange air disturbances that people had been reporting.
“Nothing to worry about. Might be feedback from some of the stage equipment so we’re trying to track it to the source and fix it.”
“Riiiight.” The guy nodded. “Was wonderin’ why my teeth itch.”
“Should have it sorted soon. Hope you’re enjoying the festival.”
“It’s wild, man!” He wandered off to tell his friends.
Pride raised his eyebrows.
“Always have a convincing cover story to hand,” Ianto murmured. “Standard Torchwood procedure.” He glanced at his stopwatch. “Three minutes.” In his other hand he held the remote control, thumb hovering near the switch, ready to activate the device.
“Should we step outside the barrier?” Pride asked.
“We’re a good fifteen feet from the device, so we should be fine right here. Just don’t go any closer.” Ianto was focussed intently on the hand sweeping around the face of the stopwatch, ticking down the seconds, and everyone waited, not quite holding their breath, but certainly feeling tense. “Five, four, three, two, one…” Ianto flicked the switch on the remote control, and…
For several seconds, it didn’t seem that anything would happen, but then the bulky black device began to shimmer, like oil rainbows were passing across its surface, rippling and twisting, distorting its shape. A low humming filled the air, almost below hearing range, the itching in their teeth increased, the hum built in intensity, causing several speakers on the nearest stage to emit an ear-splitting screech. Then there was a brilliant flash of golden light, and when they blinked their eyes clear, the device was gone. So was a circular patch of ground, approximately a foot deep and eight feet in diameter.
Ianto was putting his stopwatch away when his phone rang; he answered it. “Tosh?”
“Looks like it worked. There’s a bit of a mess here, soil and grass scattered all over the place, and the device is smashed, it sort of exploded on impact. It’s a good thing we cleared the predicted arrival area. Is everyone alright where you are?”
“We seem to be. A few of our helpers are looking a bit dazed, but…” He trailed off. “Jack, maybe you shouldn’t get too close just… Oh shit!”
Jack, curious about the crater that now existed in what had been a perfectly normal expanse of recently mown grass, had approached the edge and was peering into it when Ianto’s ears caught a sort of high-pitched whistle that was growing louder, and before he could move, one of the wheels off the trolley that the device had been constructed on slammed into the back of Jack’s head, pitching him face first into the hole.
“Ianto?” Tosh’s voice came over the phone. “Ianto? What’s happening?”
“Not all of the device made the return trip, a bit of the trolley just took Jack out. Got to go.” Already moving, Ianto hung up, shoved the phone into his pocket, and reached Jack just before Agent Pride. “Idiot. Sometimes I wonder if you even listen to me.”
Pride dropped down beside Jack, but the Black woman who’d accompanied them unceremoniously pushed him aside. “Oh no! This is not good.” These was blood matting the back of Jack’s head; he was beginning to stir. “Don’t try to move, you’re hurt.” Loretta Wade glanced up at Pride and Ianto. “We need to immobilise him, he could have a skull fracture, even a broken neck.”
“No need for any of that, Loretta,” Pride assured her. “He’ll be fine, it’ll take more than an unidentified falling object to put him down for the count.”
“What are you talking about? He has a serious head injury!”
Jack floundered a bit, because head down in a large hole was an awkward position to get out of, but he managed to fight off restraining hands and, with help from Ianto, sit up.
“Ianto? What just hit me?” He sounded more indignant than hurt.
“A wheel.” Ianto held it up. “I tried to tell you not to get too close. There was always the chance that only the device itself would pass through the Rift, leaving the trolley, or parts of it, behind. You’re lucky it was only a wheel, or you might have ended up impaled, and you know how annoyed I get when you tear your coat.”
“Sometimes I think you care more about this coat than you do about me.”
“Not true, I just don’t like being handed more repair work on top of all my other responsibilities; there are only so many hours in a day.”
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Loretta sounded a bit put out, as well she might; while she spent most of her time looking after the dead, she was fully qualified to tend to the living, when necessary.
“You should have a chat with Ducky about Captain Harkness,” Pride told his friend with a wry grin, keeping his voice low. “They’ve known each other almost forty years, and… well, let’s just say the captain’s not like other people.”
“Forty years? I find that hard to believe. Let me look at your head.”
“Let’s move back to the barrier,” Ianto suggested, looking nervously upward. “Just in case anything else decides to make landfall.”
“Is that likely?” Pride looked up as well.
“Probably not, but it’s best not to take unnecessary chances. The rest of us aren’t as… resilient as Jack.”
They moved close to the barrier, where the rest of Pride’s people were doing their best to keep the curious away, and Loretta checked Jack’s head.
“There’s no wound,” she murmured, keeping her voice to a quiet murmur so that no one would overhear.
“I heal fast,” Jack said easily.
“How…”
“Long story, maybe I’ll tell you later. Ducky speaks highly of you.”
“Yes, well…”
“Agent Pride,” Ianto interrupted, “Now that we’re finished here, do you think you could perhaps contact someone to fill that hole in before someone hurts themselves? We can move the barrier closer and leave it here for the time being, but it’s a bit of a hazard.”
Pride nodded. “I’ll see if I can get that arranged on our way back to the van. In the meantime, I’ll leave a couple of people here to move the barrier and keep an eye on things.”
“Thank you.” Stooping, Ianto scooped up the stray wheel again and looked at it. “Better hold on to this in case the other one made it back to Cardiff.”
“Is your life always this weird?” Pride asked as they set off back towards the parking lot.
“Oh, trust me,” Jack beamed at the other man. “This was nothing. You want to see weird, you should come visit us in Cardiff sometime.”
“Might just take you up on that. How about you, think you can stay long enough to stop by my bar for drinks and some good N’Orleans cooking?”
“I’ll contact UNIT, arrange for transport back to Cardiff in, say, three days?” Ianto looked at Jack, one eyebrow raised.
Jack beamed at his lover. “That sounds perfect, it’ll give me a chance to answer any questions Ms Wade might have, maybe call Ducky, and then you and I can enjoy some genuine New Orleans nightlife. Good food, great music… You’re gonna love it.”
“I’ll get on that then.” Ianto pulled out his phone to contact UNIT while Pride put in a call on his own phone to… presumably someone who could deal with the hole they’d left behind in City Park.
Aside from a few minor hiccups, Operation Rift Repair had been a great success.
The End
