Would anyone like to review this time? Thanks to the couple that did. This chapter is dedicated to Hayley (OutCold) who put up with strange looks in a bar with wi-fi to talk to me for one hour, for those of you who've spoken to me, you probably know I was losing it slightly, not talking to her.
And, um, Archie's not realy mine, but he's barely the BBC's either, all I had to work with was "A very strange man" and one of the books which gave me the name Archie.
"Captain," Sarah Jane Smith opened her door. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Jack dived straight in. "We need you. At Torchwood. There's war across the Universe, and I'm not exaggerating. It will reach Earth in two days approximately."
"I've told you before, Captain, I'm not joining Torchwood. Do you not remember the 'guns blazing' conversation'?"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Smith, you don't have a choice."
Her head jerked sharply, "What?"
"I have the authority to draft anyone of a Classified U Level 3 or above into Torchwood or UNIT, personally, I'd feel better if you weren't in UNIT. We need you, and I'd rather you were willing. I don't like forcing people to obey orders."
"The point of an order is that it forces."
"Not if you come willingly." Jack sat down, crossing his fingers, "If I can be guaranteed that you're with us 100%, you get your on team in Torchwood, your family and close associates get a safe base in London, Torchwood 5 has a small bunker that will hold out through anything. Luke will be safe."
Sarah remained standing, "I'm not sure if you're bribing or blackmailing me, Captain, whichever one, I don't like it. But I'm in."
2nd May 1979…..
Doctor Harry Sullivan stepped out of his bed on the base in Porton Down, Wiltshire. It had been eight months since his transfer from UNIT, eleven since he had last seen Sarah and the Doctor. Life had not calmed down, he was now involved in the advancement of rapidly effective vaccines to a series of biological weapons. Anthrax, they say, he thought, There's far worse than anthrax here. From farther out than anything people imagined possible.
A man, in a grey military greatcoat a tapped him on the shoulder. The man had brown hair and an American accent, "Doctor Sullivan? North Atlantic Treaty Organization?"
"Well this is his bedroom that he's slightly unsure of how you got into," Harry considered the ranks on the man's jacket. "Captain."
"Jack Harkness. Torchwood. You're needed for the War, special request from the highest authority."
"Tell UNIT that they're not high… Wait, Torchwood? You're one of hose British Empire nuts, are you?"
"Where I'm from that's not the philosophy anymore."
"Harry Sullivan, you're needed, and this'll sound cheesy, in the 21st Century."
"You are kidding me."
"'Fraid not. Coming?"
"Who requested me? And what's happened? Why can't you contact me where you are?"
Jack frowned, "I can't tell you that."
"Right, I knew a man like that once."
Jack laughed, "So did I. The same one. I can tell you that what's happened is that the Cybermen and Sontaron have created an alliance and are fighting and conquering their way across the Universe in 30 years time."
"Right, dandy, and someone want me. Well, I'm sure no one will miss me here. Shall we be off, old chap?"
"We need to wait for Ianto and Mickey Mouse first."
"Great… Wait… What have you done?"
Jack looked distressed when he turned to face Harry,"We need weapons. This research that you're working on will be destroyed in three years."
"How?" Harry saw the look on the Captain's face. "Can't say, old chap? I thought not."
The TARDIS materialised in London, as reports came in that the troops had passed Pluto. Reinforcement for the GU was being gathered in dregs from the far regions of the Galaxies. The Doctor stepped out and sniffed the air, "Twenty-first century, Earth, Reilly, get out here." She stuck her head round the door.
"Yes, Doctor, it's London." Reilly hopped down. Looking round, she frowned, "Doctor? Where are all the people?"
Lasaar joined them, "This is what it was like on Grindal, and Alphonse. The people were told to get inside, to hide. If they had a basement, lock themselves in. Earth's in hibernation, Doctor."
Round a corner, twenty uniformed UNIT officers jogged, in the middle a cart held a torpedo system, loaded with three of the same model. Reilly, as usual in times of extreme or growing stress, resisted making a joke, this time about red caps, Lasaar scowled, sick of troops readying themselves to die, the Doctor just watched.
One of the men strode over, "I'm sorry, gents, but I've got to ask all civilians to get inside."
The Doctor pulled out his psychic paper discreetly passing it to Reilly. "I'm the Doctor, this is Brother Lasaar, an ambassador from the GU."
The officer straightened saluting the Doctor. "Sir."
"No… No salute. And Doctor will do, although, I am actually Sir Doctor of Tardis. Hey, didn't know that, did you, Rie? You're travelling with a Knight." He nudged his companion.
"Doctor, I hate to break up this cosy chat but we have a fight to coordinate." Lasaar interrupted. "Do we have a plan?"
As the soldier began to quietly back off, the Doctor turned in mock astonishment, "Why do I need a plan, since when did I have to plan?"
"Great." Lasaar spoke with pure, untainted sarcasm.
Harry looked around the deserted Hub in astonishment. His mouth wide open, "This is… this is… This is… The screens are flat." He finished lamely. "Why do you want me when you have all this?"
"Because," Jack replied, bemused. "You come with the highest recommendations."
Harry nodded, "The Doctor. Is he here? I'd like to see him again."
"He's in London."
"Where are we?"
"Right. Do I get a tour, Captain Jack?"
" I have some stuff to deal with, if you bear in mind that locked doors are locked for a reason, just take a wander."
"Thanks, old chap."
Jack turned to his computer. A small red haired, balding man in his forties appeared on the screen, "Ah, Cap-i-tan." He had a Borders Scottish accent. "How's the onslaught coming?"
"Keith, my man. Is Archie about?"
Another man, this time with blonde hair and about a foot in height taller and an inch thinner than Keith, filled the screen, "Jack-y boy, how's it hanging?" The picture fizzled out of a second before tuning back in to Archie hammering the monitor. "Only works if you give it a bleachin'. Not like you bastard's in England and Wales, our extra money from the Gov's been cut for education. It's a mental system, man. Imagine givin' more to the education system than Torchie. That's practically unheard of down where your wee arses are lounging. Diddnae know that did you? We're pure broke down-"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Cut it out, Archie. Do you guys have the shipment?"
"Yeah. We just split a deal with UNIT. Keith's driving the truck down to London in half and hour or there abouts."
"When will he get there?"
"Don't have a scooby. Depends on the traffic."
"Okay, call us when they get here."
"Will do, man." Jack turned to terminate the conversation, when Archie said, "Hey Jack, dinnae get yourself killed. I like talking to you guys. Me an' Keith get a bit lonely on our ownsomes. Searching for Torchie 4 is a full time job."
"Good luck to you too, Arch."
The Cyberships darkened the Earth's skies, descending first over Asia.
Harry leant over the computer. Frowning he began puzzling out the controls, eventually he found a document marked Doctor Harry William Sullivan- NATO (deceased)
He double clicked on it, the file was password protected, Harry smiled looking at a series of letters and numbers on a post-it note next to the laptop. Typing it in, he almost laughed when it allowed him in, "That, my friend, is bad security."
Doctor Sullivan worked as part of the NATO/UNIT experiments into biological warfare and its vaccines using Alien gases and fuel sources leading to his death. In 1985, Sullivan sabotaged the project, destroying all the work into the development of both the weaponry and vaccines. The in the private trial he was charged with treason by nine countries: Belgium, Canada, Denmark, France, Italy, Norway, Portugal, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the United states of America.
Harry William Sullivan's closing defence:
"The doctor wouldn't have wanted that work to continue."
Due to close association with the Doctor, Sullivan's closing defence may have been:
"The Doctor wouldn't have wanted that work to continue."
Sullivan refused to elaborate.
The official cause of death 1986: heart attack brought on by complications of diabetes. Torchwood sources believe Harry Sullivan was transferred to the United States* for the death penalty.
Harry closed the file, and spun the chair across the room. Ianto walked in briskly, "Doctor Sullivan… Are you alright?"
Harry spoke with hysteric undertones. "I'm going to die when I'm forty-two. I'm getting a death sentence when I'm forty-two. And I'll know perfectly well it's coming. I'll have known that I would get it for destroying that work. 'The Doctor wouldn't do it'? That was my defence?"
Ianto sat down beside him, "You read your file."
Harry nodded, his brow creased. "Don't worry about timelines. I'll do it. Whatever reason I had, I'll bet it was good, or I won't have risked it… Whatever the reason I'll do it." Harry nodded again, then grinned, "I suppose I shouldn't be wasting the time I have left then. What've you got for me?"
"Um, someone will want to see you." Ianto pointed up. "In the main base. Do you need a bit more time..?"
"No. As I said, no point wasting time, feeling sorry for myself."
Harry jumped up the stairs of the Hub, "Someone wanted to see me?"
Sarah stood up, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide with astonishment, "Harry? Oh my…" She threw her arms round him. "Harry. You… you haven't changed a bit. Oh… you look…. Oh, Harry."
Ianto walked over to Jack and muttered something in his ear, Jack met Harry's eyes and nodded. Harry mouthed, Don't worry, and held Sarah at arms length. "You look splendid, old thing."
"Oh, so do you. So do you."
"I'm sorry I went and died on you. I don't know quite why, but I'm sure I had a good reason." He let he go, stepping back. "You'll be what? Sixty? I'm thirty-five, never thought I'd be younger than you. But you look fantastic. Just fine. How… how have you been?"
"I… I have a son, Luke. I was going to call him Harry but…"
"Never call your son Harry. His name for the rest of his life will be Larry, or Barry, or Carrie. It's a bad idea, old girl? How old is he?"
"Sixteen. Although, he's a human archetype so really he's two but…"
"Typical. You have a son who was bred by some… let me guess alien invaders?"
"Bane. Wait, Bane? Nasty gas on them. I worked with it for a while before we realised that it was basically harmless. Just made folks a bit ill. Terrible waste of time."
"Remember I once told you what would you what would happen if you called me "old girl" again?"
"How could I forget, it was only a year ago, and a threat like that sticks with you."
"I think you're mocking me, Harry Sullivan."
This fic may contain a couple of my OCs from other stories as well as Reilly.