A/N: (sorry the note is so long and the chapter is so short; that won't be the case usually... some of this is important)
I'm posting this now even though I have Moving On to finish and that is going to be the priority, but this story just refuses to go away.
It's not necessary to read Moving On before this if you just want to take it on faith that there are two new members of Torchwood, Bobby Chase (medic) and Wendy Shutten (lycanthrope). Wendy is mine, Bobby isn't. Everything that I'm writing for Torchwood involves the same set of characters and same AU. Questions cheerfully answers, drop a private note if have one.
This takes place after Chapter 38 of my Short Stories and after Moving On, but only contains only very minor spoilers for the Doctor Who Season 4 Finale… if you've heard the rumours about who might be joining the cast for Torchwood Season 3, you already know the only thing that I would put under the category of "spoiler" here…
Torchwood and Doctor Who belong to the BBC, not me. I promise to put Jack and Ianto and the rest of the gang right back where I found them when I'm done. Chase isn't mine either… borrowed him from the guy who created House. I suppose I'll put him back where I found him when I'm done too… drat. I don't get to keep any of the pretty boys, do I?
As always, reviews are cherished.
Chapter One: A Mother's Love
"Someone's at the tourist office door!" Wendy hollered from her station. "Ianto… do you want me to get it?" she asked when he didn't immediately respond. He'd been in Jack's office for the last two hours. The door had been shut fifteen minutes after he'd gone in. "Sweetheart…? She called again.
Jack's office door opened up; Ianto emerged looking harried with his jacket removed and his shirt sleeves rolled up. Gwen and Mickey exchanged looks from the other side of the Hub, which the Welshman ignored.
"I've got it, thanks, Wen," Ianto said to her. Regardless of what anyone thought, he and Jack had been going over last month's financials.
"I hope that's dinner," Mickey commented. "Some of us prefer Chinese to American."
Gwen shot him a look, as if honesty unable to believe he'd just said that.
"There are plenty of Weevils to go around," Ianto reminded their newest member in a dry tone. "And not only do I know where you live, but Janet almost likes me enough to go along quietly on a little ride to your bedroom closet."
"Oh you wouldn't…"
It was all Gwen could do not to burst out laughing.
"There a problem out here?" Jack poked his head out of his office door.
"Not at all, Sir," Ianto smiled up at him. "We were just discussing the things Mickey keeps in his closet."
"Anything interesting?" Jack grinned back, joining the rest of them. Gwen was positively bursting at the seams.
Mickey went back to the computer program he'd been working on.
Jack meandered over and placed a hand on his back, "You know there's an old saying that closets are for hangers, so if there's anything you'd like to get out…" he smirked.
Ianto missed the rest of it as he jogged up the stairs and slipped into the office, opening the outer door without bothering to verify that it was really the delivery person. Who else would be here at six o'clock on a Sunday? The tourist office had been closed since four.
He was caught completely off guard by the fifty-something looking woman on the other side of the door. She was pointing a gun directly at his midsection.
"Erm…" he backed up slowly, hands raised, wondering if anyone downstairs was watching the security feed. "Can I … erm… help you…?" he asked.
She backed him into the shop without a word and closed the door behind them, locking it, carefully not taking her eyes off Ianto. Other than the gun, which he realized on closer inspection wasn't twenty first century, it looked like some sort of energy discharge weapon, the woman seemed ordinary. She had on jeans and a windbreaker and was of average height and weight; her short hair was brown but greying. Her features were weathered. Her gaze darted around the room, as if she was expecting something to happen.
"Ma'am?" he asked. So far it didn't appear as if a rescue party was on its way up the stairs.
"I'm here for my son," her accent was American. "I don't want to hurt anybody, but I will if you force me to." The gun seemed to hum a bit, as if charging up.
He nodded his understanding, however, "I'm afraid I don't know who you mean."
She raised the weapon, "Don't lie to me. I know this is Torchwood. I know you have him. I don't want to hurt anybody…please, I just want my son."
He swallowed nervously, recognizing the tone in her voice, mixed fear with rage. A mother's love was nothing to mess with. "Ma'am, I honestly don't know who you mean." He couldn't think of any Americans they had frozen in the crypt, or even any Americans they'd dealt with recently. "If you tell me who you're talking about…?" then what?
She gave him a long hard look, as if trying to make up her mind about something. Finally, she answered: "His name is Grey."