Title: Back Home
Author: Van Donovan
Characters: Vislor Turlough, Tegan Jovanka, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper and the rest of the Torchwood lackeys.
Pairing(s): Turlough/Owen, Turlough/Tegan, misc. others.
Rating: Hard-R, for sex and swearing.
Word Count This Chapter: 2,488.
Word Count Overall: 14,000.
Notes: Set in the three month glossed-over gap in Torchwood, somewhere probably late 2007, early 2008. Spoilers for all of the Fifth Doctor's run.
Summary: Turlough returns to Earth, but things have changed.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I made no money from this, but if you want to hire me, I'm cheap. Betaing provided by Starkiller.
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“We ran the appropriate tests on the vase,” Jack was saying as the SUV he drove tore through some of London’s narrowest streets. “X-ray, U-ray, redwave, gamma, delta, ultraviolet, and a few I can’t even mention: all of them cleared. I had Toshiko run the tests twice, just to make sure. The results told us the same thing, over and over: it was a crystal vase, dating back about fifty years. There was nothing at all special about it.”
Jack cut off as he screeched the SUV to a halt to avoid running over some carefree children chasing a ball across the street, oblivious of the rift in the sky above them. He swerved the car around them, revving the engine again to make up for lost time.
Ianto picked up the explanation. “So, we gave it back to Tegan.” He was busy typing away on an onboard laptop. “This afternoon, shortly after noon, it activated.”
Turlough was still looking out the window, to where he could see the white gash in the sky between the trees and homes as they raced toward it. “Earthlings,” he muttered.
Jack took his eyes off the road long enough to study Turlough in the rearview mirror. “Tell us what you know about this,” he said. “Why did she ask for you?”
“How should I know?” he snapped. “I dealt with the Eternals once, years ago. After the Time War, it’s said they fled. Why any of them would want to come back, let alone for Tegan, is beyond me.”
The SUV screeched as Jack made a sharp right turn, and Turlough began to recognize the street—it was the one Tegan’s house was on. Jack said, “It’s more than just Tegan, now.”
“Here, put these on,” Ianto said, handing Turlough a pair of dark, wrap around sunglasses as Jack pulled the car to a halt. Both other men donned similar eyewear. “We have to go on foot from here.”
Outside the protection of the SUV, the force of the rift in the sky was almost overpowering. Even with the sunglasses on, it was hard to look directly up into the glowing white void, and an incredible wind was blowing. The gash was situated directly over Tegan’s modest house, and streaks of brilliant light were arching out of the home and up into the void—or perhaps they were shining down on the house.
“This way!” Jack shouted to be heard over the roaring winds that were ripping through the street. He gestured broadly and soon the three of them met up with the rest of the Torchwood crew, all three of whom were crouched behind a large van.
“Where’s Tegan?” Turlough demanded as he knelt down behind the van, next to Owen.
He received no reply, just Owen pointing at the house, which was now flooded with unnatural light from every window, pouring over all the nearby houses. As he listened, Turlough could make out screaming from all around them, filtering over the howling wind. He couldn’t see the people who were screaming, but he had a pretty good idea of what they were screaming about.
That was enough. He didn’t wait for permission, or for Jack to lay down the game plan. It was clear to him that no one knew what to do. Jack reached out for him as he rose, but Turlough easily shoved him off, quickening his pace as he walked toward Tegan’s house. He could sense Jack and Owen, and maybe the others, on his heels, but he ignored them.
The door to Tegan’s house stood open, but the luminous white light inundating from it was so strong it was as if it were a barrier to keep him from entering. He could see nothing inside, and struggled just to put one foot in front of the other. He raised his arms to his face, to help shield against the light, but it seemed to help very little.
“Turlough!”
The voice belonged to Jack, but Turlough wasn’t going to give up any of his strength to turn around and look at him. He just slowly dragged one foot in front of the other, pressing onward.
“Turlough!” Jack called again. “Tegan said,” his voice was culled by the wind, and then returned, “you could contact the Doctor!”
The wind knocked into Turlough and he staggered back several paces. “What?” he cried, looking over his shoulder. His brows furrowed as he took Jack in.
“Can you?” he asked.
Turlough had run from the Doctor, just like he’d run from Earth, and Trion, and himself. He’d not left a forwarding address, though if the Doctor had ever wanted to see him again, he could have easily looked him up. “No!” he shouted, now angry. He was angry Jack knew about the Doctor, angry that Tegan thought she needed him, angry that the Time Lord had abandoned them.
But they’d left. The Doctor just hadn’t asked them—him—to stay.
Jack’s hands fell upon Turlough’s shoulders and pushed. It was all the momentum he needed to convince himself he could do this. He had walked away from the TARDIS because he didn’t need the Doctor anymore. The Doctor hadn’t asked him to stay because he knew Turlough could fend for himself now.
He reached the front door, with Jack’s help, and once they stepped through, it was as if the wind and the roaring and the screaming were cut in half. It wasn’t quiet inside, but the noise was muted, and the wind was just a breeze. He saw Tegan immediately.
She standing before the low table that the vase had been set upon, holding the crystal container in her hands. Her eyes were open as was her mouth, and though there was no sound, she was screaming in pain. Her head was thrown back, and light poured from the crystal into her, making her skin glow from the inside out. The illumination flooded the house, shot through the ceiling and out the roof and every window, door and crack therein.
He started to cross to her instinctively, but Jack grabbed him and held him back. “Don’t touch her,” he said, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the strange hollowness of the room.
“Let her go!” Turlough screamed at the vase.
A distant echoing ring seemed to fill the air, and then, as if materializing from behind, or within her, a second Tegan stepped out from behind the first. This one was cool and calm, with eyes of icy fire.
“Yes,” she said. “I think you two will do nicely.”
In a heartbeat Jack had his gun in his hands aimed at the strange, duplicate Tegan. “Let her go,” he echoed in a much colder voice.
Beside the duplicate, two shimmering white forms appeared. They were little more than ghosts, wafting in and out of sight, but the longer the real Tegan stood holding the vase, pouring light out of it, the stronger the flickering forms seemed to become. “It’s too late,” the duplicate said. “She gave herself over.”
“Marriner,” Turlough spat, glaring at the duplicate. “She would never do that.”
“Turlough, get back,” Jack warned, stepping closer to the duplicate, his gun still drawn and trained.
“We need Ephemerals,” said the Tegan who had been Marriner. “How sick and twisted the Time War was, how small and insignificant the lives lost. But there were so many. So many thousands of millions, and we could feel them dying. We abhorred it.” The duplicate ran a hand over the body it was in, fingers tracing over the flat stomach and up along the curve of breast, until it touched its face and smiled. “Humans are so easy to control, so malleable.”
“Let her go,” Turlough growled again.
The being that wasn’t Tegan laughed. “We don’t need this universe, this existence, but we need its Ephemerals. They are the lost and forgotten, the unwanted. We will take them from you, back to our trackless eternal wastes, and they will serve us and burden you no longer.”
“Not today,” Jack announced and unloaded his gun into the duplicate Tegan.
“Jack, no!” Turlough shouted.
The duplicate staggered at the shots, but the bullets passed through her, exploding the beautiful cedar hutch against the far wall. She straightened, laughing, and raised her hand. “It will all be over soon,” she promised.
The two glowing figures beside the duplicate of Tegan began to move toward them, following the gesture of the duplicate’s hands. Jack continued firing, even long after his cartridge ran empty. He finally turned and pulled Turlough behind him. “Run!” he shouted. “Let me handle this!”
One of the ghostly forms surged into Jack, filling him quick and easily, until his skin began to glow. Then something went wrong and his body jerked, as if expelling the invading creature. A howling shriek filled the room, but Turlough didn’t care to stand around and stare. But he didn’t run, either.
With the attention drawn on Jack and whatever it was he was doing, Turlough had a moment of reprieve. The splintered smell of cedar filled the air, clearing his head. He looked from the Eternals to the real Tegan, and suddenly knew what he had to do.
Lunging toward her, Turlough managed to grasp the crystal vase before anyone realized what it was he was doing. Instantly the light began suffusing his hands, making them glow as they had for Tegan. The light began traveling up his arms, but he wasn’t about to let them win. Wrenching the vase from Tegan was no small feat, but as soon as he had it, he pulled it over his head and hurdled it at the cedar hutch.
“Noo!” the duplicate screamed, moving quickly to stop him, but not fast enough.
The vase shattered on impact, breaking not into shards but down to a fine, powdery white dust. The Eternal put its hands to its face and screamed. Light began pouring from its mouth and soon the form it inhabited began breaking up. Tegan’s shape grew less and less distinct and within a few seconds, the form was no more than another ghostly white figure, and that too was rapidly dissipating.
Light poured out of Jack too, up through the ceiling and out into the sky.
And then it was over.
Jack collapsed to his knees, and Turlough turned just in time to catch the real Tegan as she began to fall.
The house was quiet again, and dark, and smelled like time and space and cedar.
--
“I can’t believe the nerve of that guy,” Tegan huffed, accepting the tea that Toshiko had just handed her. “Why would he even bother to ask, if he was just going to go ahead with it anyway?”
“It’s usually easier for a host to take control of a victim if they’ve been given permission first,” Toshiko said. She glanced at the hall, where the men were finishing up with the cleaning in Tegan’s front room. The cedar hutch had been unloaded of the dishes and bric-a-brac that hadn’t been destroyed, and then hauled out to the street. Jack and Owen had cleaned up the powdery shards of the Eternal’s crystal, and Ianto was keying up a report on his laptop in the kitchen, while Gwen put on more water to boil.
Turlough stood in the doorway, watching them, feeling uninvited, but wanting to be helpful. The front windows had blown out, due to the wind, and the power had blown. The entire house was chilly.
“Well, if it isn’t one thing, it’s another,” Tegan muttered. “I thought I’d finished with that sort of by-the-seat-of-your-pants thing.”
Turlough was aware of Jack’s presence just moments before he spoke. “You two traveled with him?” he asked, his tone forced casual.
Tegan looked up at Jack, but Turlough kept his eyes on her. He watched the way her expression changed as she recalled the Doctor.
“It was along time ago,” she said dismissively, sipping her tea.
“Not as long ago for me,” Turlough glibly said, crossing his arms. He could feel Jack’s eyes on him, but just kept focusing on Tegan. “He and I were close.”
“I’m sure you were,” Jack rumbled behind him. His voice was cool, but there was a darker edge to it that sent a chill up Turlough’s spine.
“Do you think they’ll come back?” Toshiko asked, oblivious to the tension.
“Not for a long time, if they do,” Jack said. “I think they’ve found the Earth’s pretty well defended.” He gave Turlough a look that was probably meant as a truce.
“We’ll be ready for them, in any event,” Turlough admitted.
“All right, we about done here?” Jack cheerfully asked, shifting gears completely. He looked from Ianto and Gwen in the kitchen to Toshiko, where she still stood by Tegan, and then behind him, where Owen was wiping his hands off on a wet cloth.
Tegan wobbly got to her feet. “Thanks for all that,” she said, gesturing lamely. Toshiko put a hand out to stabilize her, which Tegan waved off. “Rather embarrassing, when you think about it.”
Jack drew himself to his full height and actually managed to make himself look distinguished. “It’s what we’re here for.”
Tegan nodded. “I’d say I’ll be seeing you, but hopefully, I won’t.”
Jack bent to scoop up his coat from where he’d laid it over the back of a chair. Turlough turned to him, proffering the sunglasses he’d been given. “Hey,” he said. When Jack looked up at him, he added, “Thanks.”
Jack didn’t reply, just gave him a knowing sort of smile and accepted the sunglasses before departing.
Ianto packed up his computer, Gwen put the fire out under the kettle and Toshiko smiled politely and eased her way out of the room. A touch on Turlough’s arm made him turn. Owen stood there looking like he wished wasn’t. “You uh, you need a lift home?”
He did, but watching Tegan as she bent to rearrange two of the figurines that had been salvaged from the destroyed hutch made his words catch in his throat. He focused on Owen. “I’ll walk, thanks.”
“Here,” Owen said, shrugging out of the coat Turlough had stolen from him. “It’s cold out there.”
“I don’t need your pity,” he said, stepping away. “Just go.”
Tegan saw the Torchwood team out and stood in her doorway until the SUV disappeared down the street. Then she closed the front door, leaned against it, and looked into the front room, where the far wall was conspicuously empty and riddled with bullet holes.
“I inherited that hutch from my Aunt Vanessa,” she said.
Turlough thought about all the things he’d never inherited when his family had been exiled and killed; all the things he’d never have, all the freedoms he’d lost. He looked to the blank spot on the wall. “It was a nice hutch,” he simply said.
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