Dark Star: Chapter 1
Jun. 14th, 2010 11:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Title: Dark Star
Chapter Title: Chapter 1
Challenge/Fest: CaseStory Big Bang
Rating: T
Dedication: Thanks to my wonderful artists, to everyone who's heard me rattle on about this, and to my brother for beta-ing.
Fandoms: Torchwood and Sherlock (BBC)
Summary: When Torchwood encounters an everyday case with far from everyday suspects, they need help they can trust. Fortunately, Ianto had an extraordinary flat mate when he was at university.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, OCs. Jack/Ianto, mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Gwen/Owen
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
The boarded up house by the alley was more peculiar than any of its neighbours would have suspected. Few of them remembered that it had been a pub for a while, but none of them would have guessed that that was what it still was.
The Dark Star was the only retreat for the alien population of Cardiff; those who were stranded there and forced to live in secrecy, hiding from the world or trying to blend in as well as they could, could come here and be themselves. The interior was mock-Victorian, with dark wood panelling below faintly striped pale yellow wallpaper, bare, polished floorboards and a solid, panelled bar in two of the rooms. The other furniture was a mishmash of different style, all heavy built and in similar tones, but clearly not part of any set.
Two houses had been knocked through into one, back to back, and the kitchens of both houses had been converted into the cramped bars where low ceilings added to the claustrophobia. The panelling had been done after the union so that it matched through, but it fit badly in some places, and dark stains marked the woodwork. Despite this, the pub had a comfortable feel about it. The counters were varnished and polished until the light gleamed off them gently, racks of glasses sparkled on shelves above the bar, behind twinkling bottles of tinted liquids.
One of the bottles was shattered on the floor in the front bar, a halo of mint green liquid with darker crystals scattered through it and thick, dark blood mixed in. The bottle had split, and the round base lay like an empty saucer, whilst the neck was cracked and crazed beside the body of a blowfish. His checked shirt was stained with pale green and dark brown.
Owen Harper sat back on his heels and waited for a result. “Based on average body temperature for a Blowfish and the ambient temperature in here... I reckon he's been dead about six hours, Jack.”
His boss nodded from his position in the doorway and smiled tightly. “Thanks, Owen. Any idea on cause of death?”
He looked around at the shards of green glass that were littered around and under the body and had crunched under his boots as he came in. “It's a total stab in the dark, Jack, but it might have been blunt force trauma from being hit over the head with a glass bottle.”
“Appreciate the sarcasm, Owen,” Jack told him sharply, making it clear that it would be a bad idea to push it with this case. “Are there injuries that would corroborate that theory?”
“Yes there are.” He got to his feet and stepped carefully across the field of glass, being careful not to pick any up in the tread of his boots where it could damage the car or the polished floor of his apartment. “He's got a fractured skull and lacerations to his head, neck and shoulders, probably from the glass shattering, and on his front where he landed on some of it.”
“Murder?”
“Unless it's possible to accidentally hit someone over the head hard enough to smash the bottle, I'd have to go with yes.” Owen worried for a moment that he was going to incur Jack's wrath for the sarcasm, but he seemed to decide that he didn't want to have this argument right now and turned to the third team member.
Gwen Cooper had been hovering in the doorway behind Jack, peering past his broad shoulders to get a glimpse of the room. She got a better view now as he stepped into the room, both to give her access and to be able to talk to her. “Right, Gwen,” he started, gesturing to the room. “It's all yours.”
She frowned at him and propped her hip against the door frame. “What do you want me to do?”
“Investigate the crime scene,” he said, as if it should have been obvious. “You were with the police, none of the rest of us know what we're doing.”
“Jack, I was a beat copper, not a scene of crime officer,” she told him gently, valleys accent thickening with the effort of not laughing at him or being overly patronising. “I broke up pub brawls and occasionally made the coffee.”
His jaw clenched and he lifted his head to glare at her firmly. “You must have picked something up, though.”
“I'm sorry, Jack, but I just don't know what to do here.” She put her hands in her pockets and looked past him. “Anyway, why are we investigating? He's a Blowfish. Does it really matter?”
Owen turned back to the body again quickly, but not quickly enough to miss Jack's expression. It was one of anger and disappointment, mixed with frustration. “Blowfish are an intelligent race. They developed interstellar transport centuries ago and are capable business people. They trade everything from raw materials to currency. Get the idea that aliens are different out of your system, Gwen, because you're probably going to meet a lot who are just like you, who have families and homes and hopes and dreams, and a lot of them will have lost those when we meet them.”
He took a deep breath and looked back at the body. “His name was Atraxet. He'd been running this pub for fifteen years, after working behind the bar for twenty years before that. He provided a point of contact between the aliens resident in Cardiff and us, a refuge from faking humanity and a link with home. And someone killed him.”
She looked chastened and took a step back into the doorway, flicking her gaze towards Owen for rescue. “I'm sorry Jack. I don't... I don't know what to do.”
He sighed and strode past her into the narrow hallway, his coat swirling against her ankles as he brushed past. “Let's get the body into stasis so we don't have to disturb the scene, then I'll go back to the Hub to decide our next move with Tosh and Ianto. I'll fetch the stasis field.”
Gwen span around to watch him. “What about us?”
He paused in the doorway and gestured towards the main bar where the body lay. “You two are going to have to stay here and keep the scene secure.”
The door swung closed behind him. Gwen met Owen's eyes and shrugged before busying herself with photographing the scene on her phone. He shook his head and started collecting his things together, waiting for Jack to return. “Foot in mouth disease, Gwen?”
“You can talk,” she muttered. “I think you're patient zero.”
“I've not got foot in mouth disease,” he scoffed. “I've got grade A arseholishness. Certified.”
The door slammed open again and they fell silent, working diligently to avoid rousing their boss's dark mood further than they already had. He stalked into the room and crouched down next to the body to set up the device that would project the stasis field, then pulled back and gestured the other two away as well. “Don't get caught in it, Owen.”
He took another step back obediently and they watched the stasis field shimmer into existence, surrounding the body and its corona of glass. Jack tested it by touching a finger to the barely-there shielding and pulled his hand back sharply. “The field's active,” he warned, earning a heavy sigh from Owen. “I want one of you on the door to this room at all times. Treat it like a crime scene, don't touch anything, don't eat in here, don't go in any of the other rooms, ask a neighbour if you need to use the toilet, see if they heard anything while you're at it.” He looked around the room for anything he'd left and then headed for the door. “I'll send Ianto down with take-away in a couple of hours.”
Gwen watched him go with her hands on her hips, glaring a hole in his back and trying to ignore Owen's dissatisfied mutterings. Once the door swung shut again with a determined thunk she started moving, fluttering towards the bar and tables, running her eyes over the array of bottles and the collection of empty glasses that had been laid out. “Why did he think I'd know what to do?” she asked, interrupting Owen's ramblings on the benefits of a work-life balance that allowed for a life. “He's read my file, I assume.”
With a shrug and a long suffering sigh, Owen sat down in the doorway and pulled his phone out. “He probably has, Gwen, but he's set in his ways. Thinks that everywhere's like Torchwood and everyone does a bit of everything. Yesterday you were doing pest control, today it's a crime scene, this evening you might be assisting me in autopsy.” She screwed her nose up at the idea and leaned against the wall next to the window. “Besides, you figured Suzie out. First time, at least.”
She glared at him and rubbed the back of her head. “And you figured out Morgan.”
“Neither of us figured the teaboy out, though,” he pointed out bitterly. “He should be here, he's the genius amongst us.” Gwen bit her lip and studied the glasses again. “Oh admit it, Gwen, the only reason Jack didn't bring Ianto is because he wouldn't trust him to leave him here.”
“Jack does trust Ianto,” she protested. “And Ianto stayed late last night again, Jack's probably just made him take the morning off to catch up on sleep. He's been staying late a lot lately.”
“Yeah, but why?” He pointed his phone at her. “Why is he staying late? What's he hiding this time? When he was staying late before it was to look after the cyberman.”
“Maybe it's just displacement activity,” Gwen suggested gently, although she looked doubtful about it. “She was his girlfriend, and then there were the cannibals; maybe it's just how he deals with things.”
Next chapter
Chapter Title: Chapter 1
Challenge/Fest: CaseStory Big Bang
Rating: T
Dedication: Thanks to my wonderful artists, to everyone who's heard me rattle on about this, and to my brother for beta-ing.
Fandoms: Torchwood and Sherlock (BBC)
Summary: When Torchwood encounters an everyday case with far from everyday suspects, they need help they can trust. Fortunately, Ianto had an extraordinary flat mate when he was at university.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, OCs. Jack/Ianto, mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Gwen/Owen
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
The boarded up house by the alley was more peculiar than any of its neighbours would have suspected. Few of them remembered that it had been a pub for a while, but none of them would have guessed that that was what it still was.
The Dark Star was the only retreat for the alien population of Cardiff; those who were stranded there and forced to live in secrecy, hiding from the world or trying to blend in as well as they could, could come here and be themselves. The interior was mock-Victorian, with dark wood panelling below faintly striped pale yellow wallpaper, bare, polished floorboards and a solid, panelled bar in two of the rooms. The other furniture was a mishmash of different style, all heavy built and in similar tones, but clearly not part of any set.
Two houses had been knocked through into one, back to back, and the kitchens of both houses had been converted into the cramped bars where low ceilings added to the claustrophobia. The panelling had been done after the union so that it matched through, but it fit badly in some places, and dark stains marked the woodwork. Despite this, the pub had a comfortable feel about it. The counters were varnished and polished until the light gleamed off them gently, racks of glasses sparkled on shelves above the bar, behind twinkling bottles of tinted liquids.
One of the bottles was shattered on the floor in the front bar, a halo of mint green liquid with darker crystals scattered through it and thick, dark blood mixed in. The bottle had split, and the round base lay like an empty saucer, whilst the neck was cracked and crazed beside the body of a blowfish. His checked shirt was stained with pale green and dark brown.
Owen Harper sat back on his heels and waited for a result. “Based on average body temperature for a Blowfish and the ambient temperature in here... I reckon he's been dead about six hours, Jack.”
His boss nodded from his position in the doorway and smiled tightly. “Thanks, Owen. Any idea on cause of death?”
He looked around at the shards of green glass that were littered around and under the body and had crunched under his boots as he came in. “It's a total stab in the dark, Jack, but it might have been blunt force trauma from being hit over the head with a glass bottle.”
“Appreciate the sarcasm, Owen,” Jack told him sharply, making it clear that it would be a bad idea to push it with this case. “Are there injuries that would corroborate that theory?”
“Yes there are.” He got to his feet and stepped carefully across the field of glass, being careful not to pick any up in the tread of his boots where it could damage the car or the polished floor of his apartment. “He's got a fractured skull and lacerations to his head, neck and shoulders, probably from the glass shattering, and on his front where he landed on some of it.”
“Murder?”
“Unless it's possible to accidentally hit someone over the head hard enough to smash the bottle, I'd have to go with yes.” Owen worried for a moment that he was going to incur Jack's wrath for the sarcasm, but he seemed to decide that he didn't want to have this argument right now and turned to the third team member.
Gwen Cooper had been hovering in the doorway behind Jack, peering past his broad shoulders to get a glimpse of the room. She got a better view now as he stepped into the room, both to give her access and to be able to talk to her. “Right, Gwen,” he started, gesturing to the room. “It's all yours.”
She frowned at him and propped her hip against the door frame. “What do you want me to do?”
“Investigate the crime scene,” he said, as if it should have been obvious. “You were with the police, none of the rest of us know what we're doing.”
“Jack, I was a beat copper, not a scene of crime officer,” she told him gently, valleys accent thickening with the effort of not laughing at him or being overly patronising. “I broke up pub brawls and occasionally made the coffee.”
His jaw clenched and he lifted his head to glare at her firmly. “You must have picked something up, though.”
“I'm sorry, Jack, but I just don't know what to do here.” She put her hands in her pockets and looked past him. “Anyway, why are we investigating? He's a Blowfish. Does it really matter?”
Owen turned back to the body again quickly, but not quickly enough to miss Jack's expression. It was one of anger and disappointment, mixed with frustration. “Blowfish are an intelligent race. They developed interstellar transport centuries ago and are capable business people. They trade everything from raw materials to currency. Get the idea that aliens are different out of your system, Gwen, because you're probably going to meet a lot who are just like you, who have families and homes and hopes and dreams, and a lot of them will have lost those when we meet them.”
He took a deep breath and looked back at the body. “His name was Atraxet. He'd been running this pub for fifteen years, after working behind the bar for twenty years before that. He provided a point of contact between the aliens resident in Cardiff and us, a refuge from faking humanity and a link with home. And someone killed him.”
She looked chastened and took a step back into the doorway, flicking her gaze towards Owen for rescue. “I'm sorry Jack. I don't... I don't know what to do.”
He sighed and strode past her into the narrow hallway, his coat swirling against her ankles as he brushed past. “Let's get the body into stasis so we don't have to disturb the scene, then I'll go back to the Hub to decide our next move with Tosh and Ianto. I'll fetch the stasis field.”
Gwen span around to watch him. “What about us?”
He paused in the doorway and gestured towards the main bar where the body lay. “You two are going to have to stay here and keep the scene secure.”
The door swung closed behind him. Gwen met Owen's eyes and shrugged before busying herself with photographing the scene on her phone. He shook his head and started collecting his things together, waiting for Jack to return. “Foot in mouth disease, Gwen?”
“You can talk,” she muttered. “I think you're patient zero.”
“I've not got foot in mouth disease,” he scoffed. “I've got grade A arseholishness. Certified.”
The door slammed open again and they fell silent, working diligently to avoid rousing their boss's dark mood further than they already had. He stalked into the room and crouched down next to the body to set up the device that would project the stasis field, then pulled back and gestured the other two away as well. “Don't get caught in it, Owen.”
He took another step back obediently and they watched the stasis field shimmer into existence, surrounding the body and its corona of glass. Jack tested it by touching a finger to the barely-there shielding and pulled his hand back sharply. “The field's active,” he warned, earning a heavy sigh from Owen. “I want one of you on the door to this room at all times. Treat it like a crime scene, don't touch anything, don't eat in here, don't go in any of the other rooms, ask a neighbour if you need to use the toilet, see if they heard anything while you're at it.” He looked around the room for anything he'd left and then headed for the door. “I'll send Ianto down with take-away in a couple of hours.”
Gwen watched him go with her hands on her hips, glaring a hole in his back and trying to ignore Owen's dissatisfied mutterings. Once the door swung shut again with a determined thunk she started moving, fluttering towards the bar and tables, running her eyes over the array of bottles and the collection of empty glasses that had been laid out. “Why did he think I'd know what to do?” she asked, interrupting Owen's ramblings on the benefits of a work-life balance that allowed for a life. “He's read my file, I assume.”
With a shrug and a long suffering sigh, Owen sat down in the doorway and pulled his phone out. “He probably has, Gwen, but he's set in his ways. Thinks that everywhere's like Torchwood and everyone does a bit of everything. Yesterday you were doing pest control, today it's a crime scene, this evening you might be assisting me in autopsy.” She screwed her nose up at the idea and leaned against the wall next to the window. “Besides, you figured Suzie out. First time, at least.”
She glared at him and rubbed the back of her head. “And you figured out Morgan.”
“Neither of us figured the teaboy out, though,” he pointed out bitterly. “He should be here, he's the genius amongst us.” Gwen bit her lip and studied the glasses again. “Oh admit it, Gwen, the only reason Jack didn't bring Ianto is because he wouldn't trust him to leave him here.”
“Jack does trust Ianto,” she protested. “And Ianto stayed late last night again, Jack's probably just made him take the morning off to catch up on sleep. He's been staying late a lot lately.”
“Yeah, but why?” He pointed his phone at her. “Why is he staying late? What's he hiding this time? When he was staying late before it was to look after the cyberman.”
“Maybe it's just displacement activity,” Gwen suggested gently, although she looked doubtful about it. “She was his girlfriend, and then there were the cannibals; maybe it's just how he deals with things.”
Next chapter
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Date: 2011-06-15 09:30 pm (UTC)