Torchwood: Fanfic: Rising from the dead

[m_findlow]

Title: Rising from the dead
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 4,327 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "Any, any, Halloween, when the dead can come back to life if the circumstances are right" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack has come to unearth an alien signal on All Hallows Eve.

The fog was hanging low along the ground, like a ghoulish ghost, spreading itself long and wide, covering the green with a sea of white. It was a dark night, chilly and Jack's breath frosted in front of him in large thick clouds, as he blew it into his hands, trying to keep them warm. If Emily thought this particular job was going to give him the jitters, she had another thing coming.

He tucked his hands under his armpits, looking around at the tall stone pillars that rose up out of the fog. A graveyard at midnight was hardly a scary prospect. Death didn't scare a man who couldn't die. It was merely a Victorian fear that ghosts occupied the darkest corners of the graveyard. What concerned Jack tonight wasn't even close to dead.

It was habit for the grave diggers to operate at night, burying the city's dead under the cover of dark, to appease the very particular sensibilities of the public. Tonight he hoped not to run into any of them. Not the official ones, anyway.

In this largely full section of the cemetery, there was unlikely to be any interruption. He heard the faint footsteps as the two men appeared from out of the fog carrying only a small lamp between them, shovels resting over their shoulders.

'You're late,' Jack said.

'Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on, sweetheart,' the shorter one said.

He didn't know their real names. Names weren't important. Grave robbing wasn't about stealing riches buried with their owners. The real trade in bodies was for medical and anatomical study. It had been formally legislated years ago, but the restrictions on the number of cadavers left available for medical study was still limited. That left a lucrative gap in the market for those prepared to break the law and steal corpses in the night.

Jack pointed to the grave, indicating for them to start digging.

'You don't want that one, son,' the elder of the two men said. 'That corpse been done rotting in the ground for twenty years. What you want is one of the nice fresh ones over there,' he said, thumbing over his shoulder. 'Freshly dug not a few days ago. Did her meself. Not too packed down to make the digging back up easier, eh Jim?' he added, nudging his young accomplice with an elbow as if they were both extremely clever in their forethought.

Jack shook his head. 'It has to be this one.'

'You sure?'

'I'm paying you, aren't I?'

'Some long lost grandma's jewels you after?'

'Something like that,' Jack replied.

When the signal had first been detected, Emily had commanded Jack to her office. 'I'm not sending Alice and Charles out there to dig up another version of you.'

Jack had detected the alien signal on his vortex manipulator and knew for a fact that it wasn't. Even if it had been, he'd have insisted it stay buried. He wasn't even supposed to know there was already a version of himself sitting froze in their morgue. Emily had been very cagey about why there was suddenly a new addition to the used cryogenic chambers. She'd reluctantly confessed the story in limited detail as instructed. Jack appreciated that for once she'd actually done as she'd been told. She rarely liked Jack telling her anything she didn't want to hear. He spent as little time as possible thinking over it. Crossing time lines was dangerous, so the less he knew, the better. It wasn't as if he wouldn't find out for himself one day in the future precisely why he'd ended up buried under the ever-expanding metropolis that was becoming Cardiff.

'I promise you, it isn't me.'

'Good,' Emily replied, satisfied that Jack wouldn't lie about such things, given how adamant he'd been the last time he'd been discovered. 'Then you won't mind going out there and getting it for us.'

'I always aim to please you, Emily, you know that,' he replied. He smiled and left before she could come up with a scathing reply of her own and perhaps some other unappealing task to occupy his time. Just because they both worked for Torchwood didn't mean that they had to like one another.

Jack had procured his two grave diggers through a contact. A favourite ale house down by the docks in Butetown was a plentiful source of all kinds of help. For the right price and a few wayward morals you could get pretty much anything. He certainly wasn't going to come out here and dig the thing up himself, whatever Emily assumed.

'D'you hear about that miasma in London?' the elder grave digger asked him, making conversation as he pressed the shovel into the hard packed earth with his boot. 'I done read about it in the paper. Folks is dropping like flies over there. Right mind to shufti over there meself for work but I heard they's not digging no more graves. Hoping that burning the bodies'll smoke the miasma out of the city.'

Jack kept his silence. He was surprised the man could even read. He knew all about the so-called Blue Death. The Victorians for all their ingenuity and technological advancement still understood very little about the biological and chemical world they lived in. They had arsenic in their wallpaper, cholera in their water supply and sewerage fittings that trapped combustible gasses. The average home was a literal death trap and they were worried about some airborne miasma killing them. Living out on the streets with the robbers and rapers was safer than a Victorian homestead. Who knew that drinking supposedly clean water was what would kill you quickest. Better to drink ale or spirits. The sooner they got proper sewerage plumbing in the city, the better. Jack had a right mind to give John Snow a kick up the backside and get him working on the problem.

He watched the two men as they worked without the aid of any kind of light. The lantern they'd brought with them had been turned off so as not to attract any further attention. It was all part of the profession he supposed. Victorians, despite their penchant for the macabre, didn't want to see bodies being buried, and wanted to see them being dug back up even less so.

Jack had been out here once before, though it had been in daylight. He'd traced the signal and found the exact spot it seemed to be coming from. A quick survey of the area showed that nothing had been disturbed. Whatever it was, it was buried down deep and had been there for quite some time. He made a note of the details on the plain white headstone and left to find out more about the man who occupied the plot.

A small clipping from the South Wales Echo gave him very little to go on. "Mr Ignatius Roberts, widower, known for his eccentricities, has continued to inspire mystery around his recent death. Mr Iwan Jones, undertaker, reported that Mr Roberts in his last will and testament, endowed to the mortician a sum of two hundred pounds to arrange for his internment, the instructions for which specified that his cadaver not be removed from the house. Curious residents of the Cardiff street in which Mr Roberts lived watched as the undertaker transported the coffin from within the small residence, along the street and on towards his final resting place. Mr Jones, who had never had any dealings with Mr Roberts, has apparently been sworn to secrecy regarding the matter, however a neighbour who assisted in carrying the coffin in and out of the house described the affair as the most curious in his life, stating "He must have been butchered. All I saw was an arm". Local constabulary later questioned Mr Jones regarding the comment and whether any criminal act had been committed, but Mr Jones in a sworn statement, confirmed that the body was buried in its entirety, and that death was indeed from natural causes."

Jack of course didn't believe a word of it. Even a wacky recluse didn't make such a pomp and circus of having his dead body removed, and it definitely didn't start emanating alien signals two decades later. Either there was nothing down there except some alien artifact that Roberts wanted buried before having disappeared from the city himself, or he'd been harboring something living in the weeks or months leading up to his untimely death.

'Hell of a night to pick for graverobbing,' the old man observed as Jack leaned against one of the taller headstones, supervising their work.

Jack was about to question him until he realised what date it was. All Hallows Eve. No wonder there wasn't another soul to be found. Even the professional grave diggers were giving the cemetery a wide berth on the one night of the year when it was said that the dead returned to walk the earth. All nonsense of course. There was no such thing as ghosts. Jack had known enough of death to be certain of it. Still, it didn't make him any less impatient.

'Hurry it up,' he ordered them, feeling that their shoveling was becoming slow and laboured. 'I'm not paying you by the hour.'

'What's your hurry, me old china? Hallows Eve giving you the willies?'

Jack didn't dignify the comment with a reply. Something didn't feel right but he couldn't put his finger on it and he didn't scare easily. The two diggers did however speed up their pace, the younger one digging with an intensity that his older companion still lacked, or perhaps it was just the rigor of youth.

As more of the hard clay soil was heaped up to one side, Jack's tension grew. He checked his wrist strap sporadically, finding that the signal was getting stronger as they unearthed more of the barrier between it and the outside world.

'Careful with that coffin,' Jack warned them. 'Don't damage it any more than it already is.' It would be half rotted already after twenty years underground.

The older man grunted and thrust the shovel down into the earth regardless. It came back with a resounding clang of metal on metal. 'Got a lead one here,' he replied.

The comment caught Jack off guard. He had the records from the undertaker, having been curious about the strange request made in advance. Mr Roberts had ordered a simple coffin, cheap, plain beech timber. No mention of a more expensive lead coffin to take him through to the underworld. And a lead coffin would significantly impede any kind of electrical or radio signal from getting put, yet the signal on Jack's wrist strap was as strong and clear now as anything. Whatever it was, it wasn't lead.

'Clean her up, Jim, there's a good lad,' the man said clambering his way out of the deep hole to leave his counterpart to shovel out the last of the dirt covering the coffin. The man went back to a bag of tools on the ground, rifling through them for a hammer and chisel to prise open the lid.

Jack reached out and stayed the man's hand. 'Let me,' he said, already pulling the chisel from the filthy hand. 'Grandma and I were real close.'

The man shrugged. 'Jimmy, Abe Lincoln here wants to open her.' He turned back to Jack. 'Fair warning though, mate. Embalmed or not, they let up a helluva stink. Hope you've got the stomach for it.'

The older man dropped ropes down into the hole, waiting for Jimmy to snake them under the coffin and out the other side before crawling out of the hole himself to help haul it up. They grunted and heaved but eventually the coffin rose up from the hole and was quickly pushed to one side, coming to rest on the dewy grass, half hidden in the low fog.

Even with only a muted half moon that fought its way between the clouds, as soon as the dirt was brushed from the surface of the coffin, it gleamed like a new penny.

'Is it silver?' Jimmy breathed in awe, caressing the coffin, brushing more dirt off it, making it glow in the moonlight.

'Silver don't shine like that, lad. All black and tarnished it'd be. No lead I know that gleams like that.'

Jack agreed in silence. One look told him it was stainless titanium, a metal that wouldn't exist in fabrication on this planet for another eighty years. That answered one question at least. Now he wondered if it was the coffin or what was inside it that was sending out the signal.

He placed the chisel on the ground, kneeling before the coffin. At least it looked all the world like one, but clearly it wasn't. It was simply coincidence, or maybe perhaps design. If it was what he thought it was, taking a hammer and chisel to it would be foolish. There were much simpler ways to open it if you knew where to look.

As soon as he touched it, his wrist strap went berserk, beeping its protest loudly.

'What's that noise?' the grave digger demanded. 'Where's it coming from?'

Jack ignored him - unable and unwilling to explain its finer workings to a man who didn't yet know what electricity was - studying the readings from the small display. A second signal which had until now gone undetected, was responding to the ping being made by the coffin. Moments later there was an eery glow in the sky, getting brighter as it honed in on their position.

'It's ghosts, come to protect the dead,' said the younger one, his voice quivering almost as much as his shovel, held in a white knuckle grip.

'Shut yer yap, Jimmy,' the older one scolded. 'No such thing,' though he didn't sound nearly so convinced.

Jack withdrew a heavy pistol from beneath his coat, arcing it around as the light grew brighter still, before fading somewhat. Then there was a blinding flash and Jack threw his arms up to cover his face. When he pulled them away, he thought he must have been blinded because everything was pitch black. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, only to realised that he hadn't lost his sight as his pupils dilated once more to bring the shadowy shapes of headstones back into view.

'What was that?' Jimmy asked, his voice quivering as he huddled beside the coffin.

'Do not fear,' his companion replied in a monotone voice.

'Frank? What choo talking funny like that for?'

Frank ignored his question, coming to stand next to the coffin, running a hand over its surface. 'Not long now, dear sibling,' he said.

Jack's brow furrowed at the sudden change in demeanor from the grave digger. 'Okay, who are you really? Don't tell, me you're a Cockney grave digger just to fill in the hours.'

'I do not understand,' Frank replied.

'You're not from around here,' Jack stated. 'I'm guessing you're the second signal responding to this one,' he said pointing at the coffin.

'I have been summoned by my sibling, yes.'

'Why?'

'He is in need of a new form. Without it he will perish.'

'I think you're a little late,' Jack observed. 'He's been dead twenty years. See, that's what we do when people die. We bury them. Kind of a custom on this planet, though some go for cremation. Never understood that. Still, I guess it's that or rot slowly in the ground. Never have to worry about the choice myself, but if it did, I'd go the old cryogenic storage option. You just never know what kind of medical miracles they'll come up with in the future. Hedging you bets, I guess they'd call it. But your sibling, here? Sorry. No such luck.'

Frank looked unperturbed by Jack's assessment. 'You are incorrect.'

Jack frowned. 'Explain.'

'Your forms are suitably capable of regular regeneration at a cellular level, however it does not occur at a speed sufficient to sustain us. Over time, needs must that we should consume more than your form can replace of its own accord. Our sibling occupied this form for many decades, and it continued to provide sustenance for many more after it expired. However there is nought left of this form now and it has taken us many cycles to reach here to assist our sibling in acquiring a new form so that it may return home. Young forms are preferred due to their extensive usefulness.' At this it diverted its gaze to Jimmy. 'However that one has sufficient youth for our purposes. He will serve for many, many decades.'

Jack's gaze also drifted over to Jimmy who was ashen and trembling in the ground.

'No. Leave him alone,' Jack demanded. 'Take your sibling back in its pod and find it a new form elsewhere.'

'As we have already stated,' Frank replied patiently, 'there is insufficient material left. A new form must be procured before we depart.'

Jack tensed. He couldn't let them take the boy, but he couldn't offer himself up in his place, either. His own regenerative abilities would sustain the alien for all of time, trapping him inside his own body, assuming he would have any conscious awareness at all. Old Ignatius must've been planning this for years before he ran out of body parts, using whatever glimmers of consciousness he had to set in motion the plan that would seal the alien away from harming anyone else. If only he'd buried it in a real coffin and not its own pod it might have died down here with its host.

Jack scrabbled for ideas. 'We'll dig you up another body. It can use that until you make it back home.'

Frank's head tipped to one side, considering the proposition. 'It is not... ideal.'

'Take it or leave it.' Jack swung his pistol back around, aiming it at Jimmy. 'Take him and I'll shoot him dead. He'll be as much use to you as anyone else here.'

'We could take your form.'

Jack turned the gun on himself, pressing it to his temple. 'Depends how fast you are. I've done this before. You could say I'm something of an expert.' He grinned menacingly at the alien, cold blue eyes just daring him to attempt it and hoping he'd called the alien's bluff.

The alien wavered with indecision. 'You would procure us a form to suit our needs?'

Jack lowered his gun and pointed it over the other side of the cemetery. 'One over there just freshly dead. Lots of form left for you. No strings attached.'

'That will be acceptable in the circumstances.'

Jack bent down to pick up the shovel abandoned by the old grave digger, now inhabited by the alien. 'You stay here,' he warned it. 'Come anywhere near us and the deal is off. I'll shoot you myself and then both you and your sibling will be stuck here on Earth.'

'You will not attempt escape?'

It was tempting, Jack thought. Between he and Jimmy, they could easily outrun the old man's body, but that wouldn't prevent it from simply taking hostage the next poor soul that happened to walk through here - some unsuspecting person come to pay their respects to a loved one. Better they take what they wanted and go, never to return and darken Jack's doorstep again. 'You have our word. Come on, Jimmy,' Jack said, reaching down to lend him a hand up.

'You... you're talking with a ghost!' he blubbered.

'Not a ghost, an alien. A creature from another world. A creature that needs a body to survive.'

'But... But...'

Jack grabbed him hard by the shoulders. 'Listen to me, Jimmy. They want a body and they don't care if it's you or me or some other schmuck. We give them what they want and they go away forever, okay? So, this you and me going to go over there and dig up that body you buried the other day. I can do it myself but it'll be quicker with two. And if he tries anything funny,' Jack said, thumbing over his shoulder, 'you hit him out cold with that shovel, okay?'

Jimmy whimpered and nodded, reluctantly taking the shovel Jack held out for him.

'Stay,' Jack reminded the alien. 'When we're done we'll call you over.'

Jack had to practically drag the boy across to the graveside, still shaking like a leaf and barely able to grip the shovel he'd clung to so desperately before. Jack had to do the lion's share of the digging, and was soon lathered in sweat at the exertion despite the freshly turned earth and the lack of assistance from his cohort. He huffed out a weary breath of relief as his shovel finally thunked against wood, indicating the coffin. A bit more digging around it and he was able to unearth the brass handles and set the edge of his shovel under the lid, prising it open. He didn't need to haul the coffin up, only to make the body accessible. The woman inside was probably mid-forties if Jack had to guess, dressed in her finest clothes and looking thoroughly at peace. It was a shame Jack was about to defile the body by letting the alien have it. Still, she was dead and nothing was going to change that.

He climbed out of the six foot hole, covered in dirt and sweat, proceeding back to the alien pod where it had remained, watching them with interest.

'It's ready for you,' Jack said. 'What do you need to do?'

'The pod needs only to be opened in proximity to the form for transference to take place.'

Jack assessed his options. The titanium pod looked heavy and hard to move, given how much the grave diggers had struggled to get it up and out of the plot. It was going to be easier to carry the woman's body over here. The dead really were going to rise from the grave tonight, he thought ironically. 'Fine. You open the pod and we'll bring the body over.'

Jack set aside any feelings of morality as he pulled the woman from her coffin, hefting her over his shoulder and carrying her over to the pod. She reeked of some awful perfume the mortician had thought to douse her in, no doubt to make her more palatable for an open casket viewing and to mask the scent of the decaying human body. The smell clung to Jack's body long after he had laid her down next to the pod. He stepped away, pulling the young grave digger lad back with him, so that when the pod was opened and the alien began transferring consciousness, they wouldn't be in the firing line.

A few moments after the pod had been activated by Frank, the woman began to slowly sit up, as alive as she must have been only a few days ago.

'I am indebted to you, sibling,' she greeted.

'I am glad that we reached you in time,' Frank replied.

'I confess I have had enough of this world and shall look forward to returning home with you.' 'They will be honored to receive you back.'

'What about Frank?' the boy mumbled.

Jack turned his attention back to the pair of aliens. 'Yes. What about Frank? The man whose body you've taken over,' he clarified.

'Once a form is taken it cannot be undone.'

Jack scowled. 'So, you planned this from the get go? Wait until someone came along and steal their body, then steal another for your sibling? That wasn't part of our deal.'

'It was the only option. My previous form would not have survived more than a few of your Earth hours more after our long journey here. It was necessary.'

Jack's expression grew dark. 'Well, it's now necessary for you to leave. Your kind will not come here again for new hosts, do you understand? If you do, I will have you locked up and your forms burned out of existence. You tell them that Torchwood will be here watching and waiting, as will I.'

If the alien seemed put out by Jack's threat, it didn't show it. It merely nodded silently, activating a couple of buttons on the underside of the pod. It glowed and then was beamed out of sight, up into the bowels of the ship that was no doubt in orbit around the planet, Jack assumed. Moments after that, a second wave of light burst down through the clouds and transported the two aliens, leaving the cemetery once more in muted darkness. Emily would be furious at Jack for not capturing them and bringing them back to her - like a cat proudly bringing back a dead rat it had caught for its mistress. He could probably lie and tell her that he'd shot them just before they'd teleported back to their ship, and that they were as good as dead. That would appease her. Emily thought the only good alien was a dead one. The deader the better.

Jack set his hands on his hips and blew out a breath. 'Well, looks like we got a few graves to back fill, Jimmy.' It'd be light in a few hours and they needed to be gone well before then. He didn't want to be arrested for grave robbing and locked up in the Tower of London, fun as his last visit there had ended up being.

'No way,' Jimmy said, backing away. 'I'm done with this job. I'd rather shovel horse dung out of stables.' He scampered away before Jack could even reply, disappearing into the night

Jack sighed, retrieving the shovel and beginning to push the soil back into its hole, covering their tracks. Emily really did have him doing all her dirty work.

Comments

[bk_forever]

Some aliens just can't be trusted! I feel bad for Jimmy and for poor Frank, but maybe this species will stay away now.