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A paradox, a child, a family ...

,,,topped off with some cleaning.

So here's the last of the ficlets for now. And this time I will remember the copyrights!

Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Title: Paradox
Character/Pairings: Unnamed Female (Original Creation)
Rating: PG - PG13
Summary: "Everything spun around her. Worlds collapsed and stars melted. She laughed and tears rolled down her face."
Author's Comment:
The shows don't belong to me, or the few character from them that are mentioned here. But I did wonder what would happen in this situation...

She'd been born in a place that existed outside the normal walls of time and space. In a TARDIS one was everywhere and every-when while at the same time being nowhere and no-when. She'd been born in that shifting muddle, breathing in her first breath with air that came from a thousand different places and a thousand different times. The fresh tint of the beginning and the rotten musk of the end and all the deep fragrances of the middle pulled into her lungs and absorbed into her.

She'd grown up in a town that was itself slightly out of step with the rest of time; slightly too in-tune with the rest of the universe to be fixed on earth. Her hometown was locked in a dance across time and space with it partner on which it resided. The Rift brought a never-ending supply of presents to Cardiff from every corner in the galaxy. Some were dangerous and had to be returned or destroyed while others Cardiff welcomed home and looked after. But the one gift that the Rift gave that none spoke of or saw was the gift it gave it's children. Those who, like Cardiff, spent their lives on the Rift, became akin to sponges and soaked up it's energy greedily. The energy of an entity without time or space was heady and caused more then a few to succumb to the inner insanity of their minds.

But she had been born outside of time and space, inside a TARDIS, and she had been raised right on top of the Rift, in constant touch with it's energy. The energy soaked into her cells and when they could take no more, it wrapped around her until she became a distortion in the steady stream of time.

She was not outside time as the TARDIS and her passengers were. Nor was she forever separated from the line of time as Captain Jack Harkness was. She was not a hole or tear in the fabric of time and space as the Rift was. But neither was she time and space itself like the Bad Wolf.

She existed within time, but also existed without. She understood it's passage and saw it move but never both at once. She could watch time move as long as it was not where she was, but she could not understand it's deliberate moves unless she was not watching it. She had a place in space but could not stay in it for long periods.

She could not hold her thoughts together. She was herself, but she was also another. She was female but she was genderless. She was young but she could not be anything but old. She saw the future and the past and the present and the possible as one and the same. She was crazy and she was the only one sane. She was things that were not what she thought.

Time and space bent around her, closing in and pulling away. Distortions became more frequent. her body swung gracefully from one movement to the next, fighting and dancing at the same time.

Everything spun around her. Worlds collapsed and stars melted. She laughed and tears rolled down her face. She held her baby parents in her arms and flung them off a cliff because she knew then they would be safe. She waltzed among the stars with heroes who should be dead decades gone, but weren't because she deemed it.

She begged and pleaded for release, but death and life looked on with stone faces.  The lords ripped time to shreds to find her but her feet laughed and whisked her off to another corner.

She was no longer aware of anything when they cornered her. She smiled at them and let her dam hair fall over her face. She wasn't safe, she was dangerous. Click click the clock with them ticked away. A stick was leveled at her head.

It's not what seems.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bullet to the brain.

Squish, squish, squish. Paradox destroyed.

Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Title: Pink Ribbons
Character/Pairings: Jack Harkness 
Rating: G
Summary: "She disappeared shortly before 1948. Jack hadn't seen her since. At odd times he thought he missed her. Mostly he forgot about her."
Author's Comment:
Don't own the characters or shows. Wrote this because everyone gets to write a pregnant Jack fic.

The little card reader followed him, Jack was sure of it. No one ever seemed to remember her and no one could tell him where to find her. She found him.

She put out the cards each time and read his fortune. She never aged, staying a little girl for decades. Pretty blue eyes - solemn when she spoke, but the mischievousness bubbling underneath - and long brown hair pulled back with two silky pink ribbons. He'd asked her once where she got such nice ribbons; "My uncle" she replied.

She'd been an almost constant companion during the first half of the century - she'd even shown up in the trenches to read his fortune. He'd pondered why she never aged, but only asked her once - her eyes had closed.

Idly he realized that he never wanted to play poker with her.

She disappeared shortly before 1948. Jack hadn't seen her since. At odd times he thought he missed her. Mostly he forgot about her. He hadn't even known her name.


When he reached his delivery date, he was more than ready to meet his little child and for the pregnancy to be over. In the previous six months he had come to thoroughly hate the Rift, the Doctor, Owen, Ianto, and just about everything else. 'Course that would be done once he could actually work again....

She was perfect. Every parent since the dawn of the universe said that, and Jack wasn't one to break tradition. She was passed around to Gwen, Tosh, Owen, Martha, the Doctor and finally made her way into Ianto's arms. The Welshman was instantly captivated. "She's beautiful, Jack." Her tiny fingers gripped his tightly. "Bet you're going to be just like your father when you get older..."

"I certainly hope not!" The Doctor exclaimed. "One Jack Harkness is all that's needed!"


As she grew, Jack's little girl had more family members than she could count. Gwen, Tosh and Martha were certainly her live in aunts and sometimes mothers. Rhys, Owen, Tom and Micky were the male equivalents.

But it was Ianto that she had taken to as her second parent. Maybe it was because it had been natural for him to step up and help Jack. Maybe it was because she sensed the mutual affection that the two men shared. Maybe it was because Jack wanted it that way.

Ianto became the stern one of the two. Jack let her get away with almost anything, providing it didn't open the rift, put someone in danger, or create a paradox; Ianto didn't. The younger man had rules and punishments that he stuck to, and they didn't waver.

It had been Ianto's mother that introduced her to the world of magic and clairvoyance. The older woman shared tales that she'd learned from her mother and gave her granddaughter a book about fortune telling.

She'd been hooked.


Gwen had been the one to find the box of diaries. Old, cracked books that Jack had used to record his past. Some of the ones from before the twentieth century were difficult to read, but they had all somehow survived and Jack found himself sitting down with Ianto and carefully going through each of them - remembering and preserving.

Ianto had become distant after that. Jack found him sitting with the printed notes of the entries, rereading all of them in the quiet moments. a month passed and Ianto was back. The distance vanishing and it was forgotten.


His daughter, Jack always thought, was spoiled rotten. Despite rules and strictness that she was raised with - she was a Torchwood babe, after all - she wanted for nothing. It had surprised him just how much his team - family - helped in raising her.

She got lessons from her aunts - math, literature, science - and she learned physiology and anatomy from Owen; by the time she reached school age they had decided it would be simpler to continue her teaching themselves and easier than explaining why a seven year old could do basic calculus and name every part of the human (and several alien) body.

Gwen, Rhys, Martha and Tom loved taking her everywhere. Trips about town, or even to London were a semi-regular occurrence. Ianto had argued that it was a bit much, but Jack reasoned that as long as she understood that these were privileges that she could keep as long as she behaved, it was fine.

Owen and Tosh on the other hand, had somehow managed to hook her on fashion and beauty. Jack still wondered how OWEN had become part of that group. The two took every opportunity to dress her up - bringing her little gifts of plastic jewelry, beaded hair ornaments and silk ribbons.


Two weeks before his daughter's eleventh birthday, Ianto asked to take her on a trip, just the two of them. Puzzled, Jack had agreed. When he'd asked Ianto about it the other man had told him it was a secret and he'd be informed about it when they got back.

The first week had been hard. Not because the two of them were gone, but because nothing happened concerning the rift, so Jack was let with nothing to do between Weevil alerts. He'd spent so long being a father and partner that with out a daughter or lover, he didn't know what to do.

The second week had been better, but near the end anxiety got to him and he panicked when he thought they wouldn't be home in time for the party. The Doctor - on one of his unregular visits - assured him that they would be back the next day.

They were. Both looked tired and Jack wondered just what they had been doing.

Ianto had smiled sleepily and yawned halfway through his welcome home kiss, making Jack laugh. His daughter was little better - blue eyes lidded with exhaustion and the pink ribbons holding her hair were beginning to slip. She'd cuddled up to his chest the minute he hugged her, and for the first time in years he found himself carrying her in his arms.

Tosh and Rhys had shooed the three of them out the door with vague threats about what would happen if they came in before 48 hours were up. Jack had tucked both Ianto and his daughter into bed and settled down with a long book.

Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Title: Through the Soul
Character/Pairings: Jack Harkness
Rating: PG
Summary: Thousands of years later, Jack re-meets his Torchwood team.
Author's Comment:
Don't own, again. Just a little bit of wishful thinking about how the future COULD go.

It had been several thousand years since he had last seen his team. On the good days he could remember their names and maybe something else. On the bad days he struggled to recall anything except the fact that some being existed so long ago. Their faces and their voices were lost several centuries back, and all his mementos of them were gone - dust to dust, ashes to ashes and all that.

So when he met Gwen Cooper-Williams in one of the refugee camps it took him several days to realize it. Blonde curly hair, yellow skin, green eyes and the ability to bring back the 'humanity' in anyone.

Toshiko Sato appeared with Martha Jones in a small booming city on the edge of the Setran galaxy. Martha was blind, beaten and on her way to recovery under the skillful watch of Tosh, but that fire and determination shown through her pale eyes and her heart beat just as strongly as they had when she had been a medical student on a journey with an alien Doctor. Tosh, sweet, determined, brilliant Tosh was tall and hefty and cradled the smallest, delicate flower and the toughest, shyest beings with the same gentleness.

Owen Harper was slouched in the manager's chair of a major food supplier, brusque and prickly and absolutely smitten with his partner and two children. Still lanky, he managed to pull his position off with a slicked back grey hair, antique glasses and a booming voice.

Ianto Jones had been the last one he'd found. A small boy curled up with his sister in the aftermath of a pirate attack. A little boy who slipped past all questions and turned the investigation around and protected what was his with a fierce intensity that Jack had forgotten to miss in the millenniums since he had seen it. Green skin, purple fuzz hair, silver eyes and a heart that was too big for the life he had.

Jack mentioned it once, during the Doctor's semi-regular visits. The Doctor had laughed. "Who says anything about the body being the same? You're seeing them, Jack. Them. Who they are at their core; their soul if you will." He took a sip of tea. "You're a lucky man; you'll recognize those souls for as long as they exist."


The last time he saw Gwen Cooper - Hally Martrot, Jamie Cluots, Seltes Dakrad, Jwendion Hoppes, Alice Mary - she was running with the rest of the Resistance Od'Tempo straight into the loaded guns of the Time Agency. Red hair gleaming in the coiled braids of the Aldre male and her tongue screaming the freedom she fought for to the stars.

The last time he met Toshiko Sato - Mary Suer, Alede Jonre, Harry Otale, Pothelo Deka, Dote Etad, Homer Mathias - her frail body was lying in a bright green room on the 2nd planet of the Helto system. Outside the building, hundreds of beings were wearing mourning yellow and singing the farewell songs of the Ariedeem people to help her cross the void to paradise in peace. He heard that her last act was to walk down the steps on the arm of her great-great-great-grandson to greet the people who believed in her work - her research. He could see the pale blue hair framing the strong face and the sweet smile, made twice as sweet by the double mouths.

The last time he saw Owen Harper - Grat Surt, Kendra Ikalstern, Jamers Gern - the tired man was barely standing. In the war zone the doctors were the first to go - targeted first - and it was the common soldier that had to step up and do their best. He wasn't a doctor - he barely knew first aid - but he rose to the occasion and refused to quit until he collapsed. Jack pulled him to him and let him sleep on his shoulder. The curly blonde hair was caked with blood and dirt, and the deep breaths of sleep fell away as the poison gas did it's job and pulled them both under.

The last time he saw Ianto Jones - Olame Jurst, Hanret Surt, Michalangeol Amerdris, Her Reh, O'lerdatraets, Charas Steern, Robert Heming - his body was dead many days over. Brown hair was black with blood and purple eyes filmed over. He was brought in with a fellow soldier and the story related to Jack quietly. Jack already knew the story. He had been tortured to death in front of William James Harten and set the other boy on the path that would make him, one day, into Captain Jack Harkness.

Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Title: Of Stains and Cleaning
Character/Pairings: Ianto Jones
Rating: PG
Summary: Some people have hobbies to distract themselves. Some people have faith to cleanse their souls. Ianto Jones has cleaning.
Author's Comment:
After CoE, I'm rather dissapointed that I DON'T own this wonderful character. On that note, this was written WAY before CoE.

Ianto Jones cleans. He's very good at it, has been since his older sister first taught him decades ago as a suprise for their mother. It became his anchor that he clung to and it kept him afloat during the hell life put him through.

After Canary Wharf, he spent hours cleaning himself of the blood and dust and then set to work on cleaning Lisa. When he was done the blood was gone, the dust washed away and the only stain was the one of guilt, shame  and doubt in the deepest part of himself.

Before the monster in Lisa woke up, Ianto cleaned the Hub. He came early and gave the hidden room a scrub. In the evening he'd wipe the dust of the day away and give Lisa a sponge bath. He'd spent hours cleaning the main part of the Hub and the Tourist Center. He cycled through, and then the shit hit the fan and he couldn't clean it up fast enough.

During his suspension he cleaned his home. He didn't sleep, he cleaned. He pulled up old carpet and rolled out the new one. He stripped wallpaper and laid down sheets of plastic and painted each room. He polished the silver and brass and copper and tin and iron and wood. He scrubbed the tile and waxed the floors.

When he was allowed back in the Hub he tried to clean himself of the stain that had grown and festered and spread. He saved Tosh and helped as much as he could and it didn't go away.

During the Year that Never Was, he stopped cleaning. He was too busy staying alive.

After Jack came back, Ianto stopped trying to clean himself. He saw how dirty Jack was and hustled him into a shower and scrubbed him until his skin was pink and new and the only thing left to clean was the other man's soul. Ianto set to it with vigor and at times forgot about his own stain.

And maybe the next time he looked at his stain, it wasn't quite so big.


Sep. 9th, 2009 11:05 pm (UTC)
I did and it did.


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