Who_GuestFest - Within these walls (Part three)

[m_findlow]

Title: Within these walls
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Gerald Carter Kneale, Harriet Derbyshire, Jack Harkness, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 15,012 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Prompt: Gerald and Harriet from Torchwood Season 2, in period alien-fighting shenanigans on behalf of the King at who_guestfest
Summary: Gerald and Harriet are on assignment to investigate strange goings on at Buckingham Palace.

Gerald regretted the words almost immediately. He had wrongly taken out his frustration on her at being talked down to by the King as they had been. Now he was forced to watch as Harriet took off down the hallway, ostensibly toward the room she been given, or perhaps he thought, straight into the arms of her Romanov love interest.

No, he needed to stop thinking like that. He had no right to be jealous. He'd had a dozen opportunities or more to express an interest in his fellow Torchwood agent. Jack taunted him endlessly, though Gerald treated it as banter. 'Not too many girls out there like her,' he'd say, and he'd be right. She was a decade ahead of her time, or more perhaps, with an intelligence that frightened most men. Hardly a wonder they wouldn't issue her with the university accolades she'd rightly earned. Her intimate knowledge of physics and chemistry were invaluable resources for Torchwood to have at its disposal. Her research into the rift could finally put to rest the controversy that had waged between Cardiff and London for years.

'Why do you do this to me, old girl?' he sighed. He needed to apologise, but he knew that she'd be in a temper for a while yet. Better to wait out the worst of it. A pity they didn't have the time to wait.

The situation was escalating and they were still faced with a complete mystery. He'd been working for Torchwood for nearly twenty years and had seen a great deal in that time, but nothing from his collective experiences could help him solve this particular puzzle. When it had just been female victims he'd callously assumed that they would have time to sort it out. Knowing now that the entity was indiscriminate changed the whole complexion of things. They were truly faced with the unknown. No one was safe, not even the King himself. Or his Queen, he realised ashamedly.

Slumped in the baroque style chair in the hallway, he hadn't even noticed the middle aged, serving man standing in front of him.

'Can I get you anything, sir? A drink, perhaps?'

He waved the man away, before stopping him. 'Actually, there is something. I need you to get a telegram to someone. A Captain Jack Harkness. He's with the British armed forces. His immediate return to Britain is requested.'

'And where is Captain Harkness posted, sir?'

Gerald frowned, he hadn't heard a word for weeks now. France, somewhere, presumably. The man couldn't die, but that only left open the possibility that he could be anywhere. 'Try the regiment at Ypres.' Knowing Jack, he'd be right at the heart of battle.

Harriet tucked her stockinged feet underneath her as she perched on the edge of the bed, staring out through the darkened window that overlooked the grand central courtyard. She'd already sent a note telling Dimitri that she wouldn't be able to have dinner with him. Not that she hadn't wanted to, but it was the principle of the thing, and she didn't want to prove Gerald correct that she was more focused on some man rather than their case. If that meant going without, then so be it. She didn't think she'd be much company in any case. Gerald's words had only made her angry and she didn't want that resentment turning in on itself, being directed towards someone else, especially not Dimitri who'd been nothing but kind to her.

There was a timid knock at the door. She knew instinctively it wasn't the knock of a Torchwood agent.

'Oh, it's you,' she said, opening the door and seeing Lottie standing there with a tray. 'I thought the staff had been instructed not to move around on their own?'

'You're on your own, miss. Now we're not.'

Harriet forced a smile at the clever comment. 'Quite right.'

'I thought you might require some refreshment since you weren't attending dinner.'

'Dimitri told you that?'

'I was only told you might be hungry, miss.'

Of course. How silly of her to think that a Russian noble might converse with the common household staff, though the instruction was unmistakably his. 'Thank you,' she said, letting the woman inside. 'I see that your position has been reinstated.'

'Yes, miss. I believe the Mr Kneale put in a good word for me with Mr Fulstom. He was very kind to do so, miss.'

'Yes, he was,' she agreed, wondering if Gerald had ulterior motives when he'd done so. 'And how are you? I imagine this all must be quite upsetting still.'

Lottie tried to put on a brave face, but Harriet could tell it was for her benefit only. 'It's silly, miss, but we had big plans, Dean and I. A few more years here, and then we'd have enough saved for a country house. He wanted to be a farmer, miss.'

'A butler with aspirations to be a farmer?'

'Sounds crazy, doesn't it, miss? But he came from a farmer's background and said he much preferred the feeling of dirt between his fingers than a cleaner’s cloth. Always thought London was too big and too dirty.'

Harriet had to agree. Having grown up in the country herself, she appreciated the fresh air and the greenery. Cardiff was quite big enough for her, these days.

'We will find out what is going on here, my dear Ms Quinn,' she said, reaching out and hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 'I don't hold out hope that we can get Dean back for you, but there's always a very small chance.'

'Thank you, Miss Harriet. You're not like the other ladies, if you don't mind my saying so.'

'Not the first time it's been said,' she remarked, a little laugh accompanying it. Why was it so wrong for a woman to aspire to be more that a scullery maid or a seamstress? 'What did you want to be when you were a child, Lottie?'

'Me, miss? I never really thought about it.'

'You must have had some ideas, surely.'

She paused to think about this. 'Marry well, raise a family, be a good wife, I suppose.' All the things Harriet herself had railed against.

'No aspirations to be a famous actress?'

'Gosh, no. I could never do that.'

And there was the problem, Harriet thought. Girls weren't even dreaming big.

After having spoken with staff and returning to his room, Gerald felt ill at ease. He'd taken to moving their equipment into his own room, tinkering with some of them to try and see if there were any strange readings. Now that he was on his own, he hoped that whatever it was, it might feel tempted to come after him, in which case he wanted to be ready for it. Knowing that Jack may be on the first troop train back to Britain was also helpful, assuming the message reached him and that he could get here in time. Knowing Jack, he'd smuggle his way back into the country if he had to. Twenty four hours and he might be banging on the Palace gates. They could certainly do with the backup.

He reluctantly settled into the hard-backed chair in front of the plain wooden desk, pondering their next move when there was a banging in the walls and a vase behind him went tumbling off the mantle, smashing in half and setting the floral arrangement across the floor. Immediately he reached for his gun, swinging it in the direction of the sound.

'Who's there? Show yourself.' There was more rustling, this time from the wall behind him. He spun to face it, drawing back the safety on his revolver. 'I represent the Torchwood Institute and your presence here is a direct violation of the protected status of this planet in accordance with Shadow Proclamation law.'

He wasn't entirely sure what that really meant, but it was what Jack had suggested he say when confronted with any form of semi or fully sentient alien life. He'd asked on any number of occasions who this Proclamation organisation were and their purpose. All Jack would say was that the world wasn't ready to know yet, and that diplomatic relations with the Unified Conglomerate would not occur for at least another hundred years. All he had to know for now what that low level sentient planets like Earth were afforded certain protections, and that any alien worth their salt was well aware of that fact. If they thought that Earthlings had no awareness of this though, they would take full advantage of it.

The noise stopped for a moment, and then started up again closer to the door this time, before it seemed the entity had moved from the walls of the room and out into the hall. Gerald pursued it, following the sound as it rattled about, down passages and through several rooms, leading him on a lengthy pursuit. He was finally down in one of the Palace's wine cellars when the noise came to a halt. Perhaps it had been hiding down here, in the darkness and solitude of the cellar. Gerald stood stock still, desperately listening out for its next move when the door behind him clanked shut. He raced for it, tugging at the heavy metal latch but finding it firmly locked, sealing him inside.

Bollocks! He banged on the thick wooden door, but like any good cellar it was very finely made and built to withstand a great deal. 'Let me out!' he yelled, continuing to beat against the door. 'Face me you cowardly thing!'

There was nothing more after that, leaving him there alone. At least it didn't appear to be in here with him, though now it also meant there was no way of him getting out. He pounded his fists against the door, calling out, trying to attract attention but knowing it was unlikely anyone would find him down here for some time.

'Mr Kneale?' came a voice from the other side of the door. 'Is that you?'

'Yes! Please let me out!' The door latched clinked and was pulled open from the outside, revealing the petite blonde.

'Ms Quinn. Whatever are you doing down here? Did you see it?'

'See what?'

'The creature.'

'No, I didn't see anything.'

Gerald gathered himself, though keeping a firm grip on his revolver. 'It was down here,' he said. 'But that still doesn't explain why you are here.'

'I had to know what was going on,' she said. 'I was wandering the Palace when I heard the awful noise coming from the cellar. I thought it must have been the ghost. I was going to run straight for help. It wasn't until I heard your voice that I knew it wasn't the ghost.'

'That was very brave of you to be wandering alone. It could have attacked you.'

'I know. But something Miss Harriet said. I wanted to be more like her and not be afraid of doing what I want.' She stood a little taller. 'I want to know what took all those people so we can stop it.'

'Well, I'm very glad you did but I fear that this may have been a distraction.'

'What do you mean, sir?'

'The creature, ghost as you call it, could have easily dispensed with me in the same way as all the others. Instead it lured me down here to keep me out of the way.'

'Out of the way of what? What was it you planned on doing?'

Indeed, what had he been planning? To sit there and stratagise, and then to go and apologise to Harriet for being such a prig. That's when it hit him. Harriet. 'Come on,' he said, grabbing her hand.

'Where are we going?'

'To stop this thing from attacking again.'

In her room, Harriet was readying herself to turn in for the night. Sat in front of the meagre dressing table she began brushing out her long golden hair, fighting the tangles in the mirror's reflection. The curls infuriated her and all the time her mother had spent fussing over them when she would have preferred plain straight hair. Tying it back was the only solution to keeping it out of the way. Unhindered, it was a complete nuisance.

'Miss Derbyshire?' She nearly dropped the hairbrush at the unexpected sound. It took her a moment to register the voice as Dimitri. She hadn't heard him knock, nor come in. It was a little presumptuous, just coming in unannounced. She was hardly going to turn him away, though.

'You startled me.'

'Again,' he said, adding a meek smile. 'I do apologise, but I could not find it in me to eat alone tonight. I had sincerely hoped you would join me.'

She gently set the brush down on the dresser, noting how at odds it was, lying there right next to her pistol. She wasn't fool enough to think that she was safe in her room on her own. If anything came for her tonight, she'd be ready for it. 'I'm very sorry, Dimitri. Today has been hellish. I was rather looking forward to a quiet night,' she said, if such a thing were even possible, given her position here.

'I understand,' he replied. 'I only thought to bring you this,' he said, holding out something small and square, 'since you took such an interest earlier.'

She took the object from his hands, seeing the Ernest Rutherford first edition she spotted in the library earlier that afternoon. How had he known that she'd taken an interest in this particular volume? Hadn't she put it away before he'd come to give them his message?

'I fear the finer details are well beyond my knowledge,' he confessed. 'Perhaps you might explain them to me. Science is not considered a proper subject matter for Russian nobility.'

'I'm sure you understand more than you think,' she said, trying to inflate his ego.

'In some things, perhaps.' His look was one of mixed curiosity and sadness. 'If you solve the mystery, then you will have to return to Wales, yes?'

'Yes,' she said, knowing it was silly to think that they could continue to court. Not only would she have to return to Wales, but Dimitri might yet have to return to Russia, all depending on whether the King agreed to grant their family asylum.

Dimitri cast a look around the room. 'A pity. I would like very much for you to stay here with me.' He pulled her close, enveloping her in a kiss.

It was all that she'd expected and more from the quietly passionate man, letting herself be drawn across the room in his embrace, trying to make the kiss last as long as possible. He backed them up against the wall so that he could get a better purchase, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her close against his body. She could feel the how warm his body was, pressed so close to him. She slipped her arms around his neck, knowing it was wrong to kiss him but not caring. It was just for tonight, and could never be more, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

There was a knock at her door. 'Harriet? May I please come in? I apologise for my outburst earlier but I have urgent news.'

Rather than pull away, Dimitri pulled her closer. It wasn't until she broke off their kiss that she noticed he was beginning to draw himself into the wall, as if it were made of water rather than solid wainscoting. As she watched on, she realised he was pulling her with him, right into the wall itself. To her horror, she had discovered the creature that had been taking people and making strange sounds within the walls was the man trying to take her now. She struggled against him, but his grip was firm and she could already feel part of her being absorbed into the wall along with him. What happened then she didn't want to think about.

'Gerald!' she screamed.

He burst through the door gun raised as she continued to fight off Dimitri. 'Unhand her!' he cried, taking a well-aimed shot, clipping Dimitri's shoulder as it protruded from the wall.

The shot was enough for Dimitri to momentarily loosen his grip on Harriet, enough for her to pull out of his arms and back away from the wall.

Dimitri hunched over on the ground, one hand gripping the injured and bleeding shoulder in pain. He looked up and hissed at Gerald who still had his gun trained on the man.

'You've taken your last victim, Dimitri,' he said, still trying to process his own revelation that the thing they'd been searching for was in fact a man, or at least something capable of appearing human.

Incensed, Dimitri suddenly lunged up from his crouched position, just inches away from attacking Gerald when a second shot hit him in the thigh, taking his legs out from under him, causing him to crumple uselessly to the floor. Gerald spun to find Harriet right behind him, her own gun raised, a tiny tendril of smoke rising from its barrel. Her expression was furious as she held it two-handed, ready to shoot again if necessary.

'You're mine!' Dimitri cried, whipping around to snarl at Harriet.

'Incorrect,' Gerald replied. 'She's Torchwood.' He turned and gave her a brief smile, which she returned.

'Gerald,' she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. 'Be a dear and fetch those handcuffs and chains, will you?'

He returned in short order, snapping the high tech shackles to Dimitri, effectively preventing him from making any sort of meaningful movement. Once done, a tourniquet was applied to the gunshot wound in his leg, tight enough that he wouldn't bleed to death on them, but not so tight that he wouldn't feel some residual pain. Whilst he was doing that, Harriet noticed the small woman who had been standing in the corner the whole time, watching events.

'Lottie, you shouldn't be here,' Harriet said. She feared it would all be too much for the young girl.

'Did he really take those people, into the wall?' Lottie asked.

'It would seem so. But the better question is what you are doing here?'

'Ms Quinn was being very brave and trusting her instincts,' Gerald replied, rejoining them. 'Had it not been for her, I fear I wouldn't have been much use to you.'

Harriet saw how much it was tearing Gerald up to know that he might not have gotten here in time to help her. 'Then I'm most grateful indeed,' Harriet said, grabbing Lottie by the arms and giving her a small hug.

'It was you who lead me on that wild goose chase,' Gerald said, turning back to Dimitri, now kneeling on the floor, chained and bound. 'Then once you had me where you wanted, you reformed into human shape and locked the door.'

'You should have stayed there,' Dimitri replied.

'I would have, believe me. Had it not been for Ms Quinn, you might have gotten away with it. Perhaps you intended on coming back for me once you were done here.'

Dimitri spat at his feet. 'You are too old and tough. I would rather have eaten nothing.'

'You... ate them?' Harriet asked, confounded by the admission.

'They were food. Nothing more.'

'Why?' Gerald demanded. 'Surely there were other things you could eat?'

'I needed fresh meat. That filth they serve from the kitchens is hours old at best, and then they cook it, ruining it completely. I can't even stomach it. I would have starved.'

Gerald frowned disparagingly. 'I highly doubt that. If you had any decency at all you would have gone without. Are you even Dimitri at all, or just a creature using his appearance?'

'I am who I've always been. I tried to spare you,' Dimitri replied, angry, 'but you British are so infuriatingly slow. These negotiations were meant to be concluded within a few days, but they kept delaying, blaming it on the war. Don't you realise there's a bigger war about to happen?'

'Are you implying that these deaths are our fault? Because you couldn't contain your urges?'

'Yes. I wasn't allowed to leave the Palace gates. I could have gone out into the city and taken anyone. Instead I made do first with the rats, but then they were gone too. I was so hungry. That first serving girl,' he paused and remembered it, a little smile creeping across his face. 'She was so delicious. So young and tender. After that, I couldn't stop.'

'What would you have done when you returned to Russia?' Harriet asked.

Dimitri's eyes lit up. 'I would have feasted. We would have had a great banquet regardless of the outcome, just like we always do.'

Gerald's expression turned serious. 'Are you saying Nicholas is aware of your condition?'

Dimitri laughed. 'It is not a condition. It is what it means to be Romanov!'

'Dear God, it's all of you?' Harriet cried.

'Where do you get your feast from?' Gerald asked, folding his arms.

'So much poverty in Russia. They are lining up at the Palace gates, beginning for food and work. Hundreds and thousands of them. Who will miss the few hundred beggars?'

'And as your family grows, so too does the need for more food,' Gerald said. 'The Bolsheviks are threatening that. What better idea than to escape to Britain where you would be safe.'

'I have seen the poverty in London, too. Don't deny that the whores and the mud larks offend the gentry. We would take them.'

'And when the poor were gone, then the middle classes?' Harriet presumed. She felt horrified that she had been so taken in by his good looks and charms. He was nothing more than a parasite.

'There are always those that won't be missed,' he replied, cold and without remorse of any kind.

'Those are your people,' Harriet said. 'What happened to the greater good of the Motherland?'

'Your people,' Dimitri said. 'Not mine. The Romanivka will live on long after you humans are gone.'

'Right, well I think we've heard enough, don't you?' Gerald said, looking back at Harriet.

'Quite,' she said, thinking that the less she saw of this man from here on in, the better.

Though it was getting late, Gerald insisted on an audience with His Majesty to report their discovery, if for no other reason than to put the Palace's residents at ease. He didn't think anyone would be sleeping, knowing that there were strange beings prowling the halls and things going bump in the night.

'What's the upshot, then?' the King asked. 'You found whatever it is?'

'We did. Your Russian ambassador is in actual fact an alien of a kind that likes to consume living beings as a food source.'

'Good God, Gerald. The Tsar's ambassador? Are you serious?'

'Very much so. Unfortunately it does mean that we are unable to do anything more in relation to the victims that went missing.'

'Bloody shame, that,' he muttered. 'Still, nothing compared to our boys dying on the fields in France, is it?'

Harriet couldn't help but pull a face at the callous remark. Just because they hadn't been fighting at the front didn't make them any less valuable as British citizens.

'What now, then?' the King asked. 'I assume you've got this thing locked up somewhere?'

'Dimitri is being extradited back to Russia as we speak. We've arranged secure transport for him so that he can't harm anyone else.' What Gerald meant was that he'd been sedated to within an inch of his life and was being shipped back in a cargo crate, to be delivered to the very gates of the Palaces he so enjoyed to wander, selecting their next meal. 'All talks of Russian asylum can be put on ice,' Gerald reported.

'What are you talking about, Gerald? David's already got MI1 working on a strategy to get the Romanovs out of Russia.'

'You can't let them leave Russia, Your Majesty,' Harriet said.

'I'm supposed to let the Bolsheviks just do with them what they like?'

'That would be for the best,' Gerald agreed. Harriet looked across at him. For just a moment she saw the military man and not the Torchwood leader. Leaving them for the Bolsheviks would be condemning them to death. Although she could see that it would be politically sound to have them disposed of on Russian soil rather than British. Either way, they couldn't be allowed to survive. There was no prison that could hold them, given what they were, and no way to keep them fed. There was no way Britain could impose any sort of sanctions on the Russian Tsars, denouncing what they were doing, if for no other reason than because they couldn't reveal to the world that Russia was being ruled by aliens. They'd already tried negotiating with Dimitri, but on that one thing he wouldn't concede. It was human flesh or nothing.

'The Tsars have ruled Russia for generations!' the King exclaimed. 'Are they all aliens? Our mothers were sisters!'

'The paternal line, it appears so yes,' Gerald confirmed. Hard to imagine that had things turned out differently, their own King of England might have been an alien.

'Bloody Christ,' he muttered, sitting down. 'You've thrown me into a political nightmare. If I back out now, the Russians will crucify me.'

'I appreciate that this is a difficult situation, Your Highness, but they cannot be allowed to come here. Their population may be small now, but with a plentiful food supply, we could be overrun.'

The King seemed to ponder this for a moment, tugging on his moustache. 'I'll blame it on Lloyd George,' he replied. 'This was all his bloody idea to bring them over. I'll tell them he opposed their extradition. I might be King but I still have to put up with those insufferable naysayers in parliament.'

'Your Majesty?' Gerald said, raising an eyebrow. Was he really suggesting throwing their Prime Minister to the wolves over this?

'Prime Ministers are expendable. Kings are not. Politicians are used to being disliked for their decisions and known for switching their allegiances. It's for the good of the Empire.'

'Of course, Your Majesty,' Gerald said, giving him a small bow.

'Right, well back to Cardiff for you in the morning,' he said, wiping his hands of the matter. 'I'll make sure to pass on my gratitude to your London branch.'

The pair of them made their courtesies and left.

'Miss Harriet?' came a call from behind them as they returned to the residences.

'Lottie. Haven't you had enough excitement for one night? You should be in bed.' After all the excitement of the past twenty four hours, Harriet was more than ready for a good night's sleep.

'I just came by the say thank you.'

'I think your job should be secure now,' Gerald said.

'Oh, I told Mr Fulstom I don't want my old job back. I thought I might take your advice and see what else is out there.'

Harriet frowned in surprise. 'What will you do?'

'I don't know. But I know I'll regret it if I don't try.'

Harriet smiled at her. 'Then I wish you all the best.'

'What's going on guys?'Jack said, making his presence known as he waltzed into the hub two days later. He dumped his duffel bag on the floor, just inside the doorway of Gerald's office, where the pair of them were quietly discussing something. 'I went like a bat out of hell to get to London only to find you'd already come back here. Where's the fire? You did say it was urgent.'

'I'm rather pleased you're here at all,' Gerald said, tapping his handful of papers on the desk to straighten them into a neat pile, before slipping them into a manila folder and into his secure filing cabinet. 'A little communication wouldn't have gone astray. We haven't heard from you for weeks.'

Jack just shrugged. 'It's a war zone out there. Things get a little crazy. Not like I can tweet you updates.' He leant against the doorway, arms casually folded. 'So, what's the story?'

'Just a little case where we thought we might require your extensive knowledge and expertise.'

That piqued his interest. 'What kind of case?'

'A family of aliens called the Romanivka that can pass through solid matter and pass themselves off as appearing human. One was occupying Buckingham Palace and picking off residents one by one, consuming them for sustenance. It's since been dealt with and returned to its country of origin where it is likely to come to a rather sticky end.'

'Cool,' Jack said. 'Never seen one of those before. And you say there's a whole bunch of them?'

'Not for much longer, I shouldn't think,' Gerald replied. 'As you say, there's a war going on. I expect there'll be a few casualties.'

'Probably for the best,' he agreed. 'Eating people is generally frowned upon. A nibble here and there is okay, even a swallow in the right circumstances, but,'

'Don't make me send you straight back,' Gerald warned. There was only so much of Jack's innuendo and inappropriate comments he could stomach.

Jack threw his hands up in surrender. 'Sorry. Keep forgetting how conservative you guys are. Gods but the sixties can't get here quick enough.'

'I never understand a half of what you say, Jack,' Harriet said. 'You'll be an old man by then, assuming you're still alive. What will that make you, eighty at least?'

Jack gave her one of his winning smiles. 'Don't you worry about me, Harriet. I'll still be partying with the best of them for years to come. Now, since you don't seem to need me, I have a date with a hot bath.'

'Rough journey home?' Harriet asked. 'I thought cleanliness was being made a priority by the British forces, to ensure that the men didn't contract disease.'

'Oh, it is. I met my date on the train back. He just so happens to be on leave in Cardiff for a few days, and he has a really big bathtub. Big enough for two. And I'm feeling very, very dirty. I might need someone to join me to scrub my back.' He gave her a wink before grabbing his duffel and heading straight back out. 'See ya in a few days,' he said, tipping them a salute. It was all she could do just to shake her head at his retreating outline.

'Looks like it's just us again, Gerald,' she said, setting her hands on her hips. She gave him a smile, glad to have another adventure done and dusted.

He smiled back. 'I couldn't think of company I'd prefer more.'

Comments

[jo02]

Good lord I enjoyed this! Thank you :)

[bk_forever]

Wooo, I was right about Gerald! I hope he stays sedated all the way back to Russia, otherwise he might escape his crate and start snacking!

I half expected Lottie to join Torchwood. I hope she'll find a better life somewhere.

Great story!

[m-findlow.livejournal.com]

Thank you, and I apologise for the typo errors. The tighter the deadline, the more of these I find long after the fact. I had quite forgotten writing this, so it was a delight to rediscover it myself. :)