Title: A vine day by the sea

Fandom: Torchwood

Characters: Jack, Greg Bishop, Llinos King, Tilda Brennan, Rhydian Huws

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 6,140 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 305 - Sharp

Summary: Greg and the team are faced with a problem that has washed ashore.

'It's going to rain later,' Greg said, peering through the front windscreen at the innocent layer of white cloud.

'So?' Llinos asked, taking a left turn.

'So, I just hope that whatever this is, we can resolve it before then.'

'Wouldn't count on it,' she said. 'Just as likely to start raining five minutes from now.' She leaned her head out through the open driver's side window and sniffed in deeply. 'Yep. I can smell the rain. Any minute now.'

Greg pulled a face at her. 'Rubbish. You just made that up.'

'I can,' she insisted. 'It's in the Welsh blood, being able to know when it'll rain.'

'If you insist.' Greg turned around to look at the passenger in the back. 'Still sulking?'

Jack folded his arms across his body and slumped lower in the seat. 'You hoodwinked me.'

Greg couldn't help but smile. 'I did no such thing. You wanted to spend time with us.'

'With you,' Jack clarified. 'No offense, Llinos.'

'Oh, none taken,' she replied. 'I'm just your little bit on the side,' she taunted, flicking her eyes up at him in the rear vision mirror and giving him a sultry smile. 'I'll take whatever I can get.'

Greg was becoming uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, trying to get them back on topic. 'Brennan took it to mean when you showed up today that you were happy to tag along on assignment. You do occasionally have to lift a finger, Jack,' Greg reminded him. 'Or have you resigned from Torchwood this time? You've done it so many times now I don't even think Doctor Brennan believes you anymore.'

Jack huffed and ignored the question as Llinos sailed the Daimler to a halt by the edge of the bay, before changing her mind and taking the slip way, driving it all the way out onto the sand. The tide was out, leaving the half a mile of tidal flats exposed with their sea foam and bits of rubbery seaweed littering the silt. Except today there was something else covering the shore. It was straggly and a dull silvery green, four feet tall at its highest, but spread like a giant carpet or sponge across the shore.

Llino stepped out of the vehicle and squinted along the line of the large green mass, easily half the width of a football pitch. 'What is that?'

Jack's sullen mood was broken by this new sight, just as Greg knew it would. He only said he hated working for Torchwood, but every adventure brought life back into him. As if he'd ever been short of it to begin with, Greg thought ruefully. 'Looks like some kind of plant,' Jack said, striding across the flats to reach it. 'Think it was here before the tide went out?'

'Don't think so,' she replied. 'Otherwise it'd be covered in the same muck as the rest of this place.' She crinkled her nose. 'I hate the stench of seaweed.'

'Oh, where's your Welshness now?' Jack asked. 'You people cook it and eat it on toast.'

She made a disapproving sound. 'My grandmother might have but no chance. Spam is bad enough.'

There was a naughty grin thrown back in Greg's direction. 'Greg, you don't mind things a little on the salty side, do you?'

He tried to maintain a stoic facade. 'No comment. Now, can we focus on that,' he said , pointing back at the plant. 'We've only got a few hours before the tide comes rolling back in.'

Jack's eyes rolled in his head. 'Spoilsport. I try and make this fun and you-'

'Ouch!' Llinos cried out, holding her hand close to her chest as she flinched away from the plant.

Jack twirled at the cry. 'What happened?'

She showed Jack the palm of her hand which now revealed a large, bleeding gash. He pulled it away from her body so she wouldn't get blood all over her nice cream blouse. Greg pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gently wrapped it around as a makeshift bandage. 'I was trying to pull off the end so that we could get a sample of it.'

Jack frowned at the section of plant Llinos had tugged, now covered in a thin layer of her bright red blood. It looked soft and furry as Jack reached out to run it between his thumb and forefinger. He hissed as his fingertips came away bleeding, just as Llinos had done. He stuck his finger in his mouth even as the skin on his thumb was already healing.

'Okay, can we all stop touching that thing?' Greg huffed. He strode over to the Daimler and popped the boot, fishing around in the back. It was amazing how much stuff they'd managed to shove in here. He just hoped they had what he wanted.

Jack came over and leaned on the open boot. 'Watcha looking for?'

Greg kept shuffling things around, wishing there were some organisation to it all. As a medical person, seeing things so haphazard irritated his sensibilities. He finally found it and held it up, showing Jack the magnifying glass.

'Kinda low tech, isn't it?'

Greg ignored the comment, carrying it over to the plant and hovering it very carefully and closely the plants farthest stretching vines. He angled the lens until it came into focus. 'Not fur. Thorns,' he said studying them. Hundreds and hundred of razor sharp protrusions poked out from every inch of the plant's stems. Small wonder it had cut through skin like a hot knife through butter.

Jack peered over his shoulder, using it as an excuse to rest his hands on Greg's hips. 'Nasty,' he said.

Greg looked up. 'Llinos, do you feel okay?'

She nodded. 'Fine. Why?'

'Just worried that it might be poisonous well as thorny.'

She shook her head,wavy red hair bouncing with the motion. 'No, I'm fine,' she affirmed. 'I think it's proven it's capable of defending itself.'

'It's well established,' Greg observed, noting the size of it. Without any other defining features around this swampy part of the coastline, he estimated it must have been thirty yards across and just as deep. It was a huge tangled mess, like a ball of knitting wool that had gotten into a fight.

'How long do you think its been here?' Llinos asked, sweeping back her hair and crouching down to studying it without being close to enough to touch.

Jack made a point of studying his wrist strap. Whislt Torchwood had a lot of technology that was decades ahead of its time, Jack's personal device continued to fascinate Greg. A token of appreciation from his last employer, so Jack said. Perhaps it was true. Wherever Jack was from, perhaps it was nothing more than a fine pocket watch would be here in this day and age.

Jack snapped the flap back down on it. His forehead creased as he glanced over the scene. 'Can't have been here more than three or four hours,' he stated. 'That was when we last recorded any rift activity. Even then it was only a blip. I expected a needle in a haystack, something the size of a beer bottle.'

Llinos stood back up, smoothing down her trousers. 'Are you saying it wasn't this big when it came through?'

'Ten yards an hour...' Greg mused. 'Assuming it expands exponentially...'

'In twelve hours it could smother the entire city,' Jack finished for him.

Twelve hours... Bloody hell. Even though he couldn't see it, it suddenly felt like the thing was creeping ever closer to them, spreading out far and wide with its deadly branches. 'We need to get rid of it.'

'Obviously,' Llinos said, rolling her eyes. 'Did you pack an axe before we left? Mind you, it'll probably grow quicker than we could cut it down. What about poison?'

Greg shook his head. 'Anything we use on an area this size is going to leach into the water supply. Too dangerous.'

'Flamethrower,' Jack suggested. 'Bet we've still got a few of those down in the archives. Stole a bunch of them from surrendering German troops back in 1918. Just knew they'd come in handy one day. Of course, when I say stole... '

'Another time,' Greg said cutting off Jack's outlandish storytelling. Fire did seem like their best option, Greg had to agree. Just so long as the plant didn't lash out. When it came to all things alien, Greg had learned the hard way never to discount any possibility. 'Anyone have a box of matches on them?' He looked at Llinos as he said it, knowing she would. She was a serial cigarette smoker, even if she never did it openly in front of the others. Greg could smell it on her clothes and in the slight yellow tinge to her fingertips.

Llinos tried not to look guilty as she slid her hand into the deep pocket of her high-waisted navy trousers, extracting a slim matchbook. He removed one and stepped closer to the plant.

'Greg, I said flamethrower, not birthday candle,' Jack taunted him.

Greg chose to pretend he hadn't heard Jack's unhelpful comments. That man could be so focused at times that it was like he was born into this job, but there were other times when Greg felt like the job bored him, or perhaps he'd rather be anywhere else at all.

He struck the match against the rough panel on the back of the book, watching it spark into life before hovering it underneath the closest leaf. It burned its yellow flame, curling the matchstick as it moved towards Greg's fingers until he was forced to shake it out. He tried again, but watched as it uselessly refused to take hold.

Llinos hovered towards him. 'What's the problem?'

'It won't light.'

'The match?'

'No, the plant.'

Llinos snatched the matchbook from him with her uninjured hand. 'Give it here.' She snapped another match out and lit it, waving it along the edge of the leaf. She tried three times more until her matchbook was almost empty and there was just a scattered pile of ashen sticks at her feet.

'Maybe we need some kind of fuel,' Greg suggested. 'Paraffin, oil...' His eyes landed on their car. 'We've got motor oil.'

The three of them searched around the muddy tidal flats for a thin stick, something they could use to dip into the oil that wasn't still soaked with seawater from the outgoing tide.

Eventually Jack found a suitable stick, bringing it back with the end dripping in black oil. 'Light me up, baby,' he announced. Llinos, ever at the ready with her matches did so, igniting Jack's makeshift torch. He waved it around the edges of the plant, expecting it to finally catch, but the flames passed it by without a single singed leaf.

'An inflammable alien plant. Great,' Llinos muttered.

'Don't forget the part where it can slice apart human flesh,' Jack reminded her. 'I've met plants before that liked to eat flesh, and believe me, that is a whole other experience in the right circumstances, but-'

Greg cleared his throat loudly before rack could carry on. There'd be a time and place for that kind of thing, but this wasn't it. 'Torchwood has been around for more than seventy years. This can't be the first time we've encountered a plant like this. There must be something in our archives.'

'You want me to put in a call?' Jack asked.

'I don't see what other options we have.'

Jack ambled over to the car, throwing open the driver side door and settling down in the seat. In the middle console was a phone, yet another piece of advanced technology that made their Daimler unique. Car phones wouldn't be a thing for another forty years, and even then, they weren't relying on cellular technology, so Jack had tried to explain to him once. The rift machine at the hub served as many things, and a point of mobile communication happened to be one of them. He didn't question how it worked, only that it did.

Jack picked up the receiver and dialed.

A curt Welsh voice greeted him. 'Cardiff 2459.'

'Rhydian! So lovely to hear your voice. Haven't seen you yet today. Are you wearing that cute naval uniform again?'

Greg could feel Rhydian blushing on the other end of the phone. He'd warned the young ex navy seaman that Jack would continue to flirt with him if he persisted in wearing clothes that very nearly resembled his former occupation. It was bad enough that Jack made endless comments about his own attire without flustering their youngest team member.

'Can I help you with something?'

'So many things,' Jack teased as Greg leaned over the open car door, making sure that Jack stayed on topic, and so that he could hear both ends of the conversation. 'Anyway, we're hoping you could go do some research for us. Got a wayward creeping vine out here. The surface of the plant is covered in hundreds of tiny thorns and boy, are they sharp. We were going to nuke it with fire but it turns out it's impervious to flames. Need to know if we've dealt with this kind of thing before.'

'Okay. Where should I be looking?'

Greg leaned his head further into the car. 'Try the botany records.'

'We have botany records?' Jack asked.

Greg rolled his eyes. 'Have you ever actually been down to the archives?'

'Not for that reason.' He gave Greg a lascivious grin. 'As you well know.'

'There's a cabinet full of folios in vault twelve, left had side, Rhydian,' Greg said, tugging the phone receiver from Jack's hand. 'Go through them first. Anything that's fits Jack's description of it.'

'Okay. I'll call you back if I find anything.'

'Thanks. And hurry. This thing is growing like crazy. We need to find a way to stop it before it gets out of control.' He reached across Jack's body to put the phone down, nose filling momentarily with the heady scent of the man. God help him, now was not the time to want to grab his face and kiss him. He pulled back quickly, sucking in a deep breath of the salty, muddy air.

'So...' Jack leaned back in the seat, one leg dangling out of the door in a obviously sexual pose. 'You've been visiting the archives without me?'

'I was interested in reviewing the potential medical applications of any of the plant species we've recorded.'

He'd stumbled on them by accident, truth be told. There were in fact dozens of large folios with their thick yellowing pages full of various alien plant life. Each sample had been painstakingly dried and pressed, with penciled details about its supposed origins and characteristics, along with, in some cases, beautifully rendered sketches of its foliage or flowers, seed pods and root structure. Even a layman couldn't help but admire the collection for its sheer artistry and detail. Greg wondered which of the many Torchwood operatives that had haunted its halls had been responsible for the magnificent collection, clearly an enthusiast for the subject matter.

The car boot slammed, distracting the pair of them. Greg turned his head to see Llinos tugging on a set of thick hide gloves. On top of the roof of the car he spotted several stoppered glass jars and a machete. He raised an eyebrow at her in askance.

'Don't let me interrupt you,' Llinos said, a cheeky little tug at the corner of her mouth. 'I'm just going in for a second attempt to get us some samples.' Without waiting for their permission, she trotted off, jar under her arm and machete carried casually in her hand. She was made for Torchwood, Greg thought. Nothing fazed her and she attacked the job with relish, never satisfied with sitting on the sidelines. She wasn't unattractive, but she certainly didn't go out of her way to make a fuss about her appearance. Her flame red hair hung about her face in long unruly waves and she never wore make-up. Properly coiffed and painted up, dressed in something other than her faithful trouser and blouse combination, she might have passed for a rare Cardiff jewel. Small wonder Jack stole kisses from her wherever he could. Greg didn't mind, though. That was just Jack. Monogamy wasn't his strong suit, though his obsession with Greg was a close second. So long as Greg stayed on at Torchwood, Jack was certain to hang around as well.

'Suppose we should go help,' Greg said, feeling guilty.

'Suppose,' Jack agreed, albeit half-heartedly.

They rejoined Llinos as she tentatively tested out a light grip on the plant. Even with the gloves, it rubbed and chafed the hide, quickly creating tears in the fabric. 'It's like razor wire,' she observed.

'You hold, I'll cut,' Jack said, welding the machete in a two-handed grip. He sliced down hard but the plant fought back, and his blade made only a small break in the fibrous stem. He hacked at it several more times until the blade finally ate through, which was fortunate as Llinos was about to let go before her gloves were in tatters. Greg picked up the fallen branch with tongs and worked it inside the jar, sealing the lid tightly.

'This thing must come from one hell of a rough neighbourhood,' Jack remarked. His machete blade was considerably blunted by the effort.

'And it's on the move,' Greg pointed out, seeing where their muddy footprints now disappeared into the sand and silt underneath the plant's creeping herbage. He ran a shoe through the silt, marking out a line at the edge of its reach, and then a second and a third, each roughly a yard apart, noting the time on his watch and scribbling them down in a small notebook he kept in his breast pocket. Llinos carried the jar back to the car and wrote out a label card for it, attaching it to the neck of the jar with twine.

Jack thrust his hands deep inside his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. 'Can't cut it, can't poison it, can't burn it. Now what?' he mused out loud.

A distant fog horn from a passing cargo ship echoed out across the water, but it was the opposite direction that held Greg's attention. The main city centre was barely a mile and a half from here. Four miles to their right was Tiger Bay and the busy port. 'Liquid nitrogen,' Greg said, the idea suddenly popping up to his mind. 'Although, where we'd ever get enough ofit...'

Jack rested a hand on his shoulder. 'We'll think of something.' He was about to say something more when his head twisted back away towards the road. Greg followed his line of sight, hearing a tiny squeak and rattle of a bicycle. There was an audible groan. 'Just when I thought today couldn't get worse,' Jack muttered, spotting the cyclist pedaling towards them. That rust-coloured velveteen jacket could belong to only one woman, Torchwood's incumbent leader Dr Tilda Brennan. She looked like the evil Ms Gulch from the Wizard of Oz, riding in on her bicycle, about to rain down terror upon them.

She dismounted just short of the sticky sand left behind by the retreating tides, propping the bike against a rotted pylon. In her long sepia skirt, which was figure hugging, but in a military way rather than a sensual way, Greg wondered how she ever got on and off a bicycle, let alone rode one in it. It was just one more thing that added to her brusque enigma. What she was a doctor of, Greg had never enquired. Certainly not of the medical profession, and she hardly seemed the philosophical type.

'What have we done wrong now?' Greg heard Llinos groan, setting her hand on her hip.

Brennan marched towards them. 'King, Bishop, Harkness. Report,' she commanded.

Greg felt Jack's got breath against his ear. 'Perhaps she could scare it into submission,' he whispered. Greg tried hard not to let a smirk play across his lips, knowing Brennan would spot it immediately and demand to know what he found so abundantly amusing.

'Huws was fiddling around in our records, mumbling something about an unkillable plant. You should have called me if you were out if your depth.'

Greg couldn't fail to notice the tightness in Jack's jaw at the mere inference that they were incompetent. 'We were handling it.'

Brennan cast a look at the plant, having now spread beyond both markers in the sand that Greg had left. He hadn't even noticed it breaching the lines, let alone mark the time. She gave her team another disparaging look. 'Clearly.'

Greg took the lead in briefing her on the situation, keeping his tone unemotional and sticking to the facts.

'Well, then,' Brennan said, tugging on the ends of her jacket, pulling it into place as if it too had displeased her. 'Looks like I was right to come down here and take control of the situation.'

Greg moved his hand behind him, scrabbling to find Jack's and to wrap a single digit around his, squeezing it tight. It was a clear signal for Jack to not bite back. He and Brennan butted heads more than any two people Greg had ever met. How they didn't kill one another was nothing short of a miracle. It was clear to Greg that Jack had all the necessary field skills to lead the team, but his lack of political nouse had clearly put him out of favour with London, which was why he'd been overlooked for the role for what must now be decades. As a consequence, Jack played up and became a nuisance value when they sought to put him in his place. 'I can make a call to the army and have a manned cordon around it within the hour.'

Greg shook his head. 'It's at least thirty five yards square now. A hour from now it'll be seventy or more. Men alone won't be able to contain it. It would cut them to ribbons if they attempted to engage it.' He didn't like to also mention that a war was going on and that they could barely find enough men to send to the front as cannon fodder, let alone spare them to create a human shield against an alien plant.

'Tanks, then,' Brennan said. 'We'll, run it over and crush the life out of it.' Greg didn't half wonder if she was mad. Maybe Jack had been right about her all along.

'That little sample there,' Llinos said, pointing to the jar, 'took ten minutes of Jack sawing through it with a machete, and that's just a slim branch. It's tough as steel.'

She harrumphed at their naysaying and was about to say more on the matter before a trilling from the Daimler grabbed her attention. She strode across the flats toward it and reached into pick up the phone. 'Mister Huws. I trust that you have found something useful that your colleagues could not.'

There was a pause as she listened. 'Hold on. I'm putting you through the speakers.' Brennan pressed a button near the phone cradle and the radio on the front of the dashboard console crackled into life. She twisted through dial to increase the volume. Rhydian's slightly musical Swansea lilt buzzed through the tinny speakers. 'Now, start from the beginning.'

Rhydian could be heard clearing his throat. 'I think I found an entry in the old botanical files.' There was a rustling sound of heavy parchment pages. 'Vinea Ferrum Strangulata. I believe that translates to Bladed strangler vine.'

'Yes, Mister Huws, we can all translate Latin,' Brennan said with a tired air, as if it were a commonplace skill in twentieth century Wales. She squinted her eyes at the sample in the jar as Rhydian described the entry. 'Leaves are sort of triangular and narrow, more grey than green. Furry surface warned as being very abrasive...'

'What else does it say?'

'Appears to thrive in cool climates and fertile soil. Unsuccessfully propagated by attempting to split the large root ball. The plant has this big ball thing attached at the base and the root sticks into the ground below that.'

'So, it's not a runner plant,' Brennan surmised. 'That's helpful to know. We're probably just dealing with a single plant. What more does it say about this ball?'

'Appears to be a store for the plant's energy. They thought it was a seed pod but when it was cut open, the plant died quite quickly.'

'Well, there's our answer,' Brennan announced. 'We need only to locate the central pod and damage it. Any ideas on how close to the middle it might lie?'

Greg, Llinos and Jack all exchanged looks. Was she really suggesting someone go in there to find it?

Llinos gave a cough. 'How long did you day it would take the army to bring in a tank?'

'Possibly a few hours. And then we'd have to get it from the road down onto the shoreline. I don't know how well that slip way would hold the weight of a tank.'

Jack snorted. 'No need. By the time the army gets its arse down here with a tank it'll be invading the town hall. We need to move now before this thing gets any larger, which means someone is going to have to get in there and find it.'

A satisfied smile crept over Brennan's face. Perhaps she really was the wicked witch of the west in disguise. 'Thank you for volunteering. You'll finally be able to put yourself to good use, Captain Harkness.'

Greg sputtered and it didn't go unnoticed. 'What? Are you insane?' he said, directing his comments at Dr Brennan. 'You can't sent Jack in there. He'll be cut to pieces before he's made it three feet in.'

Brennan appeared nonplussed. 'Yet he also has the remarkable gift of self healing.' She turned to Jack. 'Go fetch whatever equipment you need from the vehicle, Captain. Something sharp, I should assume. Clearly they were able to pierce this pod before so that is obviously its weak spot. That's your task.'

Jack nodded solemnly, heading for the boot to survey his options. Greg followed him.

'Jack you don't have to do this,' Greg told him, a look of worry and concern etched all of over his face.

'Don't I?' Jack replied, just a hint of teasing smile beneath the ironic comment to try and put Greg at ease. 'Brennan has been waiting forever to tear me to pieces. And didn't you say earlier I have to lift a finger every now and then?'

Greg chewed his lip, frustrated, before turning to Llinos just a few paces away. 'Are you sure there isn't anything else in those files that suggests how one should go about this without dying? Go ask Rhydian to double check again.'

Llino appeared chastised by the remark and Greg felt bad for having turned his frustration on the her. If he should be snapping anyone's head off, it should be Brennan's. She returned to the back of the vehicle a few moments later, looking disappointed. 'He couldn't find anything else. We're lucky to have this much.'

'If it's all we've got, then it's enough,' Jack assured her.

Greg heaved out a breath. 'What about chain mail, or armor. Something to protect you, at least.'

'Greg, I hate to break it to you, but have you ever worn armor? It's heavy, impossible to move in and just look at that thing,' he said, gesturing to the ever tangling mess of plant. 'I wouldn't make it ten feet in without getting stuck. I'm going to have to duck and crawl and contort myself into all kinds of shapes to get near the centre.'

'Well, you'd be an expert on that, wouldn't you?' he mumbled so that no one else heard.

Jack's cheeky smile was indefatigable. 'Didn't I tell you all that time spent together was worth it?'

Greg tried to maintain focus but it was virtually impossible. That night making love in Greg's bathtub had been worth the ache in his calf muscles he'd woken up with the next morning. 'Just be careful, okay?'

Jack rubbed a hand down his arm. 'Always.'

'Never,' Greg retorted. 'Jack,' he called out before Jack could turn his back completely.

Jack arched an eyebrow at him. 'Yes, Greg?'

'Your coat. It'll get caught and hinder your efforts.

Jack shucked it off and held it out for Greg to take and drape over his arm. He almost hated himself for taking away what little protection it might afford Jack, but if he got tangled in it, that would be worse. 'Wouldn't want it getting damaged would we?' Jack teased.

'I'm rather fond of it,' Greg replied. 'And of you.'

Jack smiled. 'Is that a declaration of love I hear coming from you, Greg Bishop?'

It vexed him that Jack could be so flippant at a time like this. 'We can argue about it later.'

Jack wandered past Llinos with her hip leant against the side of the car. He gave her a reassuring wink and then as he passed Brennan, sat comfortably in the driver's seat, he saluted her. Greg watched him the entire way from the car to the bramble of deadly vine now only a mere twenty yards away. As Jack began to try and find a way through it, Greg imagined he could see every painful wince on Jack's face and hear every hiss of agonising pain as the plant sliced his skin at the slightest amount of pressure. When Jack finally disappeared from view, engulfed completely inside the twisted jungle of vines, Llinos was there standing next to him. 'He'll be okay,' she promised.

Greg paced up and down like a caged animal. It had been over an hour and there'd been no sign of Jack, no cries for help, nothing. In another ten minutes they'd have to back the car back up the slip way before it was consumed as the plant grew ever closer to them. If they didn't move, it would probably grow right over the top of them, sealing them inside. Perhaps they should have attempted to drive through it, but Llinos reminded him that it would probably shred the tyres, leaving them equally stranded.

Greg chewed at his thumbnail before dropping his hand into his lap. 'We shouldn't have let him go in there.'

Brennan appeared bored. She was writing in a journal that she must have kept on her person, wedged in that tightly buttoned double-breasted jacket of hers. Every now and then she'd picked up the phone and given Rhydian instructions for things that bore no connection to their current situation. All other matters Torchwood related appeared to simply carry on regardless. She paused her pencil over the page and closed the journal on it, marking the page. 'Might I remind you that he was following orders?'

Greg snorted at Brennan's terse response. Jack was infamous for not following orders. He seemed to detest the very notion of them. Greg had often asked him why he stayed at Torchwood. Jack would always find a glib reply, stating that he hung around because Greg was just so very sexy, or that he was sure Greg would miss him. He would, but that didn't seem like a proper excuse in anyone's books. For reasons unknown Jack was tethered to Torchwood and while he was, he was going to put up with whatever it threw at him.

Brennan was a hard taskmaster, but Greg rarely had reason to fall foul of her demanding nature. The only black mark against his name was his association with Jack, which had been impossible to keep under wraps when Jack was literally all over him. Greg honestly thought Jack would crawl over broken glass for him. Brennan's response to their budding romance was simple. "I won't ask and I don't wish to know. Do your job and we shan't speak of it further." She didn't condone it, but nor did she ban it. For Greg, it was simply enough to have somewhere he was allowed to demonstrate his feelings towards another man without being arrested.

Cloud were gathering overhead as the afternoon of promised rain began to settle in. Brennan carried on calmly as if they were out on a seaside picnic. Shouldn't she have been calling in those army tanks by now? He was losing any hope that Jack was going to make it out of there.

'Greg!' Llinos cried out her face pressed to the window. She began pointing emphatically, before floundering to open the door and tumble out. Greg mirrored her motions with little more grace than she'd managed as something red moved amongst the spreading bracken.

Jack was on hands and knees and, as best they could tell, trying to finally free himself of the last tendrils of razor sharp vines. They each ran over and grabbed a slick, blood covered wrist, dragging him the requisite few yards to safety. He collapsed boneless onto the brown sand, which stuck to his skin, covered in matted blood, fresh red wounds seeping and older black wounds caked with dried blood, adding to the gruesome mess. His clothes were completely gone, torn to a million pieces, no doubt. Jack himself was too senseless to do more than just lie there on his stomach, cheek buried in the silt. He must have been in absolute agony and exhausted.

'Llinos, water,' Greg commanded. She ran to the car, hefting the jerry can kept there for emergencies. Greg tipped it little by little over the wounds on his back and legs, gently scrubbing them with a cloth. Most of the rust coloured water dripped away to reveal unblemished skin, whilst other fresher cuts were closing up even as he rinsed away the blood and dirt. They gently rolled him over and Greg carried on, not bothering to fuss over Jack's modesty. Jack groaned as wounds healed themselves, stinging only long enough for Greg to clean them out before finishing the job for him. Jack tried sitting up and Llinos was there to help prop him up as they rinsed the last of the sand from his back and wrapped him in a blanket.

A swish of skirts announced Brennan's arrival, standing over the three of them knelt there on the ground. 'The job is done?'

Jack nodded mutely. 'I destroyed it.'

Brennan pursed her lips and nodded back. 'Good then. I shall send Rhydian down here to monitor the situation in the coming hours. As for you three...' She looked down at them, frowning. Greg's pale grey suit was filthy, covered in blood and dirt. Llinos wasn't much better. She sighed. 'Go home. If anything changes, I'll inform you.' It was as close to a kindness as Brennan could expect to give.

'Greg?' Jack's voice had some if its renewed strength back.

'I'll just go wait in the car until you two are done,' Llinos announced, giving Jack a smile and a peck on the cheek.

Greg reached out and ran a thumb over that same cheekbone. 'Are you okay?'

'Never better. Though I seem to be naked.'

'Nothing new there,' Greg replied, getting in his first tease of the day. 'We were starting to think you weren't ever getting out of there alive.'

'I might've passed out once or twice,' Jack confessed, though Greg knew that translated into several dozen times. The blood loss would have made anyone disoriented and woozy.

'I was worried sick about you.'

That old glint sprung to Jack's eyes as his smile widened. 'So, you do love me.'

Greg's head bowed in silent resignation at Jack's persistence. 'Maybe just a little bit. I can't tell if Brennan is pleased that you saved the day, or mildly annoyed that you were successful.'

Jack relaxed back against Greg's body letting his arms slip around Jack. 'A mystery for another day.' Jack enveloped him in a kiss. Greg could taste the metallic tang of blood on Jack's tongue from where he had no doubt been scratched a hundred times, seeping blood down his face where he had licked it away from his mouth. For now he didn't care. Jack being here and whole was enough.

'You're filthy,' Jack observed. He pulled open the blanket and inspected himself. 'I'm filthy.' He looked up at Greg. 'Still got that bathtub at your place?'

'With enough hot water and soap for both of us,' Greg promised him. Just not enough to cleanse the dirty thoughts from his mind as he entertained the prospect of their long night in the tub.