Fandomweekly Challenge 231 - False flag
Title: False flag
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Agnes Havisham
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 231 - Mystery at
fandomweekly
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Agnes Havisham
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 231 - Mystery at
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Summary: Even with Agnes Havisham overseeing things, there is still something to be said about real life experience.
‘Morning,’ Ianto greeted, sidling up beside Gwen with two paper cups, passing one as it issued steam from the tiny opening.
‘Oh, you’re just the best,’ Gwen said, beaming at her teammate
‘Sorry I took so long. Had to get the machine out of storage and get it all going again. Amazing how much room a few canisters of tea and a teapot take up.’
Gwen took a tentative sip, still piping hot and burning the tip of her tongue, but acceptable given the circumstances. ‘I hope you packed it all back up afterwards.’
‘Of course,’ he said, taking a sip from his own cup. ‘Couldn’t have Agnes thinking we’ve gone native again.’ With Agnes Havisham, it was tea or nothing. That was simply the British way, she said. Apparently it was also the Torchwood way, or at least it was when she turned up. In takeaway cups, she was never going to find out, or so they hoped.
‘And Jack?’ Gwen asked, taking a larger mouthful and relishing the bittersweet perfection that only Ianto could conjure.
‘Already off in a strop before I could get some to him.’
Gwen sighed. Great. As if Jack wasn’t enough of a bear at times like these. Now he was a coffee deprived bear. ‘I suppose that explains why he’s taking even longer than you to get here.’
‘Undoubtedly putting off the inevitable,’ he agreed. Just another black mark against his name, ultimately. That was how these things always went, Gwen knew. Agnes turned up, Jack vacillated between freaking out that she was here and trying like hell to prove he has things under control so that he could get rid of her.
‘I wish I’d brought us brollies,’ Ianto remarked as they stood in the doorway watching from a
distance, water continuing to fall seemingly from nowhere followed by a bright flash of light and then a rumble. ‘But y’know, workplace health and safety. Didn’t want to risk attracting a lighting strike. You don’t suppose this is the thing that’s brought Agnes out of her suspended animation chamber, do you?’
Gwen frowned. ‘Doesn't feel very world ending, does it?’ That was the trouble with having Agnes turn up to assess them. You just never knew which of the dozen investigations they had on the go was the one that was going to turn into custard, requiring her intervention to prevent extinction of the human race. Small wonder it put Jack’s teeth on edge. Everyday end-of-the-world stuff didn’t faze him because he never stopped long enough to consider if this was the day their luck ran out. Having Agnes here just confirmed it, making him second guess everything. Not to mention the fact that Agnes had a thinly veiled criticism for almost everything he did, in her parochial, disapproving mother-in-law type way. Having his methods and strategies lightly tutted was almost worse than having them openly shouted down.
‘Ah, Mrs Williams. Mr Jones,’ came the parchment dry, girlish tones of Agnes Havisham as she made her way to join them. How she’d gotten here without a car was anyone's guess. She’d probably walked the entire three miles, without a single petticoat or strand of hair out of place. ‘An isolated weather event,’ she observed. ‘Though much more isolated than any I've experienced to date. Just this one building, you say? How extraordinary. And what did you call this palace again?’ She asked, giving the sticky floor an experimental poke with the toe of her shoe, feeling the fleeting grip and release from long forgotten mixer drinks.
‘A nightclub.’
‘Hmmm… I've not seen any card tables or smoking chairs. Has it been emptied in order to clean?’
Gwen tried to conceal her smirk of amusement at Agnes’ dated understanding of the world. Mind you for someone from the nineteenth century she managed to cope with it all extraordinarily well. ‘It’s a place where people go to drink and dance. Mostly drinking. And hooking up.’
Agnes’s eyebrows raised. ‘Like prostitution?’
Gwen swore she saw Ianto blush. ‘More like meeting someone you like on a first date.’
‘Ah, so a dance hall, then,’ nodding her understanding. ‘Very good. Shall we?’ She popped open the parasol she seemed to always carry and stepped assuredly into the room.
Gwen nudged her teammate. ‘See Ianto? All we needed was to have umbrellas made of bamboo and fabric.’
He rolled his eyes at her. ‘Of course. Silly me.’
The pair of them reluctantly stepped inside, feeling rainwater soak into their clothes and down the blacks of their collars. Every now and then another flash of light would make them cringe, waiting to be struck, yet it seemed to be largely ignoring their presence, rumbling happily away.
‘What does your computational analysis tell us about this phenomenon?’ Agnes asked, looking delighted as she remained dry under her lacy parasol.
‘Nothing terribly helpful,’ Gwen confessed, studying her PDA between efforts to wipe water from the screen.
There was one final rumble and then the rain came to an abrupt stop, leaving nothing but the puddles on the dancefloor and tiny waterfalls dribbling down the bar as evidence that anything had occurred.
‘Were you all having fun standing there getting soaked?’ Jack asked, appearing from a side door, leaning casually against it, looking smug.
‘Ah, Captain Harkness. Good of you to join us. We were just discussing possible sources and interventionist measures.’
‘Solved your little mystery,’ he replied, holding up a somewhat damaged metal box. ‘Internal atmospheric generator. A bit on the broken side.’ His expression grew even more smug at the three blank expressions they gave him. ‘What? You never saw one of these? Not even the great Agnes Havisham, Torchwood Assessor?’
‘I must confess this is a first. Like so many things in my time supervising you, Captain.’
He grinned. ‘World’s not ending. Not today.’
‘That remains to be seen. It’s still early, Captain. Much could happen.’
The smile fell from his face and Gwen sympathised. If not this, then what?
‘Morning,’ Ianto greeted, sidling up beside Gwen with two paper cups, passing one as it issued steam from the tiny opening.
‘Oh, you’re just the best,’ Gwen said, beaming at her teammate
‘Sorry I took so long. Had to get the machine out of storage and get it all going again. Amazing how much room a few canisters of tea and a teapot take up.’
Gwen took a tentative sip, still piping hot and burning the tip of her tongue, but acceptable given the circumstances. ‘I hope you packed it all back up afterwards.’
‘Of course,’ he said, taking a sip from his own cup. ‘Couldn’t have Agnes thinking we’ve gone native again.’ With Agnes Havisham, it was tea or nothing. That was simply the British way, she said. Apparently it was also the Torchwood way, or at least it was when she turned up. In takeaway cups, she was never going to find out, or so they hoped.
‘And Jack?’ Gwen asked, taking a larger mouthful and relishing the bittersweet perfection that only Ianto could conjure.
‘Already off in a strop before I could get some to him.’
Gwen sighed. Great. As if Jack wasn’t enough of a bear at times like these. Now he was a coffee deprived bear. ‘I suppose that explains why he’s taking even longer than you to get here.’
‘Undoubtedly putting off the inevitable,’ he agreed. Just another black mark against his name, ultimately. That was how these things always went, Gwen knew. Agnes turned up, Jack vacillated between freaking out that she was here and trying like hell to prove he has things under control so that he could get rid of her.
‘I wish I’d brought us brollies,’ Ianto remarked as they stood in the doorway watching from a
distance, water continuing to fall seemingly from nowhere followed by a bright flash of light and then a rumble. ‘But y’know, workplace health and safety. Didn’t want to risk attracting a lighting strike. You don’t suppose this is the thing that’s brought Agnes out of her suspended animation chamber, do you?’
Gwen frowned. ‘Doesn't feel very world ending, does it?’ That was the trouble with having Agnes turn up to assess them. You just never knew which of the dozen investigations they had on the go was the one that was going to turn into custard, requiring her intervention to prevent extinction of the human race. Small wonder it put Jack’s teeth on edge. Everyday end-of-the-world stuff didn’t faze him because he never stopped long enough to consider if this was the day their luck ran out. Having Agnes here just confirmed it, making him second guess everything. Not to mention the fact that Agnes had a thinly veiled criticism for almost everything he did, in her parochial, disapproving mother-in-law type way. Having his methods and strategies lightly tutted was almost worse than having them openly shouted down.
‘Ah, Mrs Williams. Mr Jones,’ came the parchment dry, girlish tones of Agnes Havisham as she made her way to join them. How she’d gotten here without a car was anyone's guess. She’d probably walked the entire three miles, without a single petticoat or strand of hair out of place. ‘An isolated weather event,’ she observed. ‘Though much more isolated than any I've experienced to date. Just this one building, you say? How extraordinary. And what did you call this palace again?’ She asked, giving the sticky floor an experimental poke with the toe of her shoe, feeling the fleeting grip and release from long forgotten mixer drinks.
‘A nightclub.’
‘Hmmm… I've not seen any card tables or smoking chairs. Has it been emptied in order to clean?’
Gwen tried to conceal her smirk of amusement at Agnes’ dated understanding of the world. Mind you for someone from the nineteenth century she managed to cope with it all extraordinarily well. ‘It’s a place where people go to drink and dance. Mostly drinking. And hooking up.’
Agnes’s eyebrows raised. ‘Like prostitution?’
Gwen swore she saw Ianto blush. ‘More like meeting someone you like on a first date.’
‘Ah, so a dance hall, then,’ nodding her understanding. ‘Very good. Shall we?’ She popped open the parasol she seemed to always carry and stepped assuredly into the room.
Gwen nudged her teammate. ‘See Ianto? All we needed was to have umbrellas made of bamboo and fabric.’
He rolled his eyes at her. ‘Of course. Silly me.’
The pair of them reluctantly stepped inside, feeling rainwater soak into their clothes and down the blacks of their collars. Every now and then another flash of light would make them cringe, waiting to be struck, yet it seemed to be largely ignoring their presence, rumbling happily away.
‘What does your computational analysis tell us about this phenomenon?’ Agnes asked, looking delighted as she remained dry under her lacy parasol.
‘Nothing terribly helpful,’ Gwen confessed, studying her PDA between efforts to wipe water from the screen.
There was one final rumble and then the rain came to an abrupt stop, leaving nothing but the puddles on the dancefloor and tiny waterfalls dribbling down the bar as evidence that anything had occurred.
‘Were you all having fun standing there getting soaked?’ Jack asked, appearing from a side door, leaning casually against it, looking smug.
‘Ah, Captain Harkness. Good of you to join us. We were just discussing possible sources and interventionist measures.’
‘Solved your little mystery,’ he replied, holding up a somewhat damaged metal box. ‘Internal atmospheric generator. A bit on the broken side.’ His expression grew even more smug at the three blank expressions they gave him. ‘What? You never saw one of these? Not even the great Agnes Havisham, Torchwood Assessor?’
‘I must confess this is a first. Like so many things in my time supervising you, Captain.’
He grinned. ‘World’s not ending. Not today.’
‘That remains to be seen. It’s still early, Captain. Much could happen.’
The smile fell from his face and Gwen sympathised. If not this, then what?