John J. Rambo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theydrewfirstblood) wrote2023-05-15 01:23 pm
theydrewfirstblood) wrote2023-05-15 01:23 pm
Entry tags:
[PERCHANCE TO DREAM] you can't erase us, you'll just have to face us
“Jack?”
“Hmm?...”
“Delivery for you.”
“...come again?”
Looking up from the file Owen had handed him, he watched Ianto saunter down into the autopsy bay with a small manila envelope in his hand.
“Just came in.” he echoed. “Courier delivery, not post.”
Crossing over, Jack set the file on a nearby instrument tray, earning him a peevish look from Owen, and took the envelope from him. Sure enough, his name was written across the front, and when he flipped it over, the Torchwood logo was stamped on its seal.
Tearing it open, Jack pulled out a folded note—and just barely managed to catch an object that tried to slide out: a sturdy leather cord, and dangling on it...
Frowning as something touched the back of his mind, Jack lifted the pendant into view. Pale, bright green jade, carved in the shape of a laughing Buddha, smooth and gleaming...
“Sir? You all right?”
Jack blinked, realizing with a start that he was trembling. Just a little, the pendant swinging slightly with the motion of his hand. Instead of answering Owen, he moved to open the note and read it silently.
A good luck token
to keep with you in all of
your angelic forms.
Jack's eyes kept moving down the page, stumbling over...something. Something missing, a signature...
“Jack?”
He blinked his eyes, looking up as Tosh's delicate features appeared over the railing, the fleeting moment of something close to memory vanishing.
“What've you got, Tosh?”
“You said to keep silent unless I found a matching breach? Well, I've got one.”
Glancing over at Owen on the other side of the exam table—mousy, fierce, industrious Owen Harper, nervous and brave and quiet at all the right moments—he beckoned for him to leave the bipedal snail creature they'd been examining and follow him up to Toshiko's work station.
“What'd you find?” Jack asked.
“You were right: our surveillance feeds were tapped roughly six months ago.” Toshiko explained, calling up a data feed Jack only barely recognized as some kind of live feed not connected to the Torchwood servers. “No record of any attempts to retrieve information, just piggybacking off our CCTV. Quite literally, whoever is on the other end is just...watching.”
“And today there was a breach?”
“Approximately ten minutes ago. What's strange is that no information was downloaded. It was an upload.”
“A virus?” Owen asked, leaning over Toshiko's shoulder—then flinching when he realized how close he was to her. Jack watched as Tosh blushed, then brazenly listed to one side so her shoulder was touching Owen's chest.
“No, an actual file transfer.” she corrected. Watching her screen, Jack saw her pull up a folder labeled 'QPM.' When she clicked it open, there were dozens of files, images and text documents alike. He watched her mouse fly across the screen, clicking on a few at random and then organizing them across her monitors with the efficient grace of a conductor leading a symphony.
“Is that...” Jack trailed off, catching one of the document labels in his visual scan of the files.
Toshiko nodded. “It is...I-I don't think it's complete, but this appears to be a research file from...”
Jack couldn't help but smile, reaching up without thinking to grip the dog tags still hanging outside of his shirt. Looking over at Owen, then beyond him to where Ianto stood by the stairs, something strange and tremulous and light was vibrating in his chest.
“Ianto? Get Gwen. We've got official contact from Torchwood Four.”
* * * * *
“There's not much, but what we have appears to be one of what would be Torchwood's earliest studies into multidimensional travel.”
Gwen, Jack, Toshiko, and Ianto were seated around the conference table as Owen stood up front, explaining what they found in the files they'd received.
“Can't be done without destroying dimensions. You need special craft to traverse the Void.” Ianto pointed out.
Jack glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Ianto shrugged with a roll of his eyes.
“Torchwood One, remember?” he reminded him. “I did some data analysis on the Void Ship they were studying at Canary Wharf.”
“Hey, smart is sexy.” Jack replied, winking. Ianto returned the wink with a smirk, despite the dismissive way he turned his chair away from Jack.
Owen cleared his throat, cheeks turning pink before taking a breath. “Right, so—er, yes. However, to even think about traveling the Void, you must first break through the walls of reality, which is decidedly not good. Which is why, if this information is correct? We know where the missing branch got to, and what's more? There's a good bloody reason Torchwood Four's been so cautious about reaching out.”
Using his tablet, Owen brought up a page from the file, featuring some handwritten case notes.
“This is an excerpt from research notes circa 1901—they detail successful incursion into another reality through the Void, and an encounter with an entity...whose name has been redacted. Reason isn't clear.” Owen explained.
Jack found himself reaching up to toy with the blank dog tags, thumb running over the empty surface with a sense of discomfort. A mixture of fear and something warmer, brighter, lit in his chest.
“Incursion into the Void isn't possible, you said it yourself.” Jack replied. “Canary Wharf is well documented in terms of what can happen. It's a threat to reality, it can't be done without destroying everything.”
“Apparently, there's a theory that says it's possible.” Owen argued, bringing up another page. “It's the name of the project, the QPM: quantum probability matrix. It's a bridge that, theoretically, can exist between two realities on the foundation of a multiverse singularity.”
“What's that?” Gwen asked.
“Er—well, it's a significant event that occurs exactly the same way in two realities. Same people, same day, same occurrence with precisely the same timing. Down to the nanosecond.”
“It's nearly impossible to achieve,” Toshiko added, staring intently at the screen to read the notes, “because it has to be confirmed across realities. It's a paradox, it can't be done.”
...except in dreams.
“I'm sorry?”
Jack blinked, not realizing he'd spoken aloud until Tosh's voice touched his ears. He was staring at his hands—gripping the jade pendant between thumb and forefinger, running the leather cord through the fingers of his other hand.
He glanced at Owen then—Owen, who was watching him with keen interest, chewing on one thumbnail.
Uncertainly, Jack shut his eyes and did something he tried never to do.
Gripping the jade pendant, Jack opened his mind completely...
* * * * *
He writes for nearly two days, never stopping. He's not sure where the spiral bound notepad came from, he asked and one of the kids got it for him, that and the pen. They bring him food and water, which he picks at.
He writes until his fingers cramp. He writes until the words blur on the page, in his head, writes until the words and the images begin to run together...until he can no longer fully recall his face, can't be sure if his eyes were blue or green.
Can't recall his true name without looking. The one he locked away inside himself, to protect him from his own past.
When he's done, he has a record of things he shouldn't know, from places he's never been. Evidence of people that may not even exist, because the dream is fading. Everything is fading, nearly gone...save for the first line, and the visceral emotion that rises in his chest when he reads it—that can't be anything but completely real.
He goes by Captain Jack Harkness, and I love him.
* * * * *
“Where will you go now, John?”
He smiles slightly at Colonel Trautman, then goes back to surveying the sparsely beautiful desert landscape. They've got a couple hours drive yet to get to their rendezvous point.
“Might come back home, if you can help me with something, sir.”
“Of course. Name it.”
“Long shot, sir, but in Washington...ever heard of an organization called UNIT?”
“...I'm not at liberty to say.”
His smile grows into a full on grin.
“Works for me, sir...any chance you're not at liberty to make a phone call for me, too?...”
* * * * *
“John Rambo?”
“Sir?...”
“Captain Jack Harkness, nice to meet you.”
“...no, you're not.”
“...no. No, I am not—but I hear you're looking for him. That's why UNIT called me. You know a lot for a small town Green Beret in 1991. We could use someone like you at Torchwood.”
“With all due respect, sir...I can't. I can't get near Torchwood Three for at least another fifteen years.”
“Good. I don't want you for Torchwood Three—I'm here to invite you to join Torchwood Four.”
* * * * *
“...who?”
Jack's eyes snapped open at the sound of Ianto's voice, breathless as he meticulously put his psychic shields back up.
“John James Rambo—run a search. Green Beret, Vietnam War.” Jack replied, dizzy with the way his heart was suddenly racing. “Look for recruitment to UNIT's American division in '88 or '89. Gwen? Cross reference the name with any past cases involving Torchwood Three. If that man so much as looked at a map of a location where we caught a Weevil, I want to know about it.”
As Ianto and Gwen left the room, Jack refocused his attention on Owen, who was still chewing on his nail and looking ready to vibrate out of his skin.
“Owen, do the notes tell us where Torchwood Four accessed this QPM?”
“Er...no, sir.”
Jack watched his hand drop, his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, eyes widening.
“...do you know where this QPM is?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes, sir.”
“And are you at liberty to give me the location?”
Owen grinned, bright as the sun.
“Yes, sir—yes, I am.”
“Hmm?...”
“Delivery for you.”
“...come again?”
Looking up from the file Owen had handed him, he watched Ianto saunter down into the autopsy bay with a small manila envelope in his hand.
“Just came in.” he echoed. “Courier delivery, not post.”
Crossing over, Jack set the file on a nearby instrument tray, earning him a peevish look from Owen, and took the envelope from him. Sure enough, his name was written across the front, and when he flipped it over, the Torchwood logo was stamped on its seal.
Tearing it open, Jack pulled out a folded note—and just barely managed to catch an object that tried to slide out: a sturdy leather cord, and dangling on it...
Frowning as something touched the back of his mind, Jack lifted the pendant into view. Pale, bright green jade, carved in the shape of a laughing Buddha, smooth and gleaming...
“Sir? You all right?”
Jack blinked, realizing with a start that he was trembling. Just a little, the pendant swinging slightly with the motion of his hand. Instead of answering Owen, he moved to open the note and read it silently.
A good luck token
to keep with you in all of
your angelic forms.
Jack's eyes kept moving down the page, stumbling over...something. Something missing, a signature...
“Jack?”
He blinked his eyes, looking up as Tosh's delicate features appeared over the railing, the fleeting moment of something close to memory vanishing.
“What've you got, Tosh?”
“You said to keep silent unless I found a matching breach? Well, I've got one.”
Glancing over at Owen on the other side of the exam table—mousy, fierce, industrious Owen Harper, nervous and brave and quiet at all the right moments—he beckoned for him to leave the bipedal snail creature they'd been examining and follow him up to Toshiko's work station.
“What'd you find?” Jack asked.
“You were right: our surveillance feeds were tapped roughly six months ago.” Toshiko explained, calling up a data feed Jack only barely recognized as some kind of live feed not connected to the Torchwood servers. “No record of any attempts to retrieve information, just piggybacking off our CCTV. Quite literally, whoever is on the other end is just...watching.”
“And today there was a breach?”
“Approximately ten minutes ago. What's strange is that no information was downloaded. It was an upload.”
“A virus?” Owen asked, leaning over Toshiko's shoulder—then flinching when he realized how close he was to her. Jack watched as Tosh blushed, then brazenly listed to one side so her shoulder was touching Owen's chest.
“No, an actual file transfer.” she corrected. Watching her screen, Jack saw her pull up a folder labeled 'QPM.' When she clicked it open, there were dozens of files, images and text documents alike. He watched her mouse fly across the screen, clicking on a few at random and then organizing them across her monitors with the efficient grace of a conductor leading a symphony.
“Is that...” Jack trailed off, catching one of the document labels in his visual scan of the files.
Toshiko nodded. “It is...I-I don't think it's complete, but this appears to be a research file from...”
Jack couldn't help but smile, reaching up without thinking to grip the dog tags still hanging outside of his shirt. Looking over at Owen, then beyond him to where Ianto stood by the stairs, something strange and tremulous and light was vibrating in his chest.
“Ianto? Get Gwen. We've got official contact from Torchwood Four.”
“There's not much, but what we have appears to be one of what would be Torchwood's earliest studies into multidimensional travel.”
Gwen, Jack, Toshiko, and Ianto were seated around the conference table as Owen stood up front, explaining what they found in the files they'd received.
“Can't be done without destroying dimensions. You need special craft to traverse the Void.” Ianto pointed out.
Jack glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Ianto shrugged with a roll of his eyes.
“Torchwood One, remember?” he reminded him. “I did some data analysis on the Void Ship they were studying at Canary Wharf.”
“Hey, smart is sexy.” Jack replied, winking. Ianto returned the wink with a smirk, despite the dismissive way he turned his chair away from Jack.
Owen cleared his throat, cheeks turning pink before taking a breath. “Right, so—er, yes. However, to even think about traveling the Void, you must first break through the walls of reality, which is decidedly not good. Which is why, if this information is correct? We know where the missing branch got to, and what's more? There's a good bloody reason Torchwood Four's been so cautious about reaching out.”
Using his tablet, Owen brought up a page from the file, featuring some handwritten case notes.
“This is an excerpt from research notes circa 1901—they detail successful incursion into another reality through the Void, and an encounter with an entity...whose name has been redacted. Reason isn't clear.” Owen explained.
Jack found himself reaching up to toy with the blank dog tags, thumb running over the empty surface with a sense of discomfort. A mixture of fear and something warmer, brighter, lit in his chest.
“Incursion into the Void isn't possible, you said it yourself.” Jack replied. “Canary Wharf is well documented in terms of what can happen. It's a threat to reality, it can't be done without destroying everything.”
“Apparently, there's a theory that says it's possible.” Owen argued, bringing up another page. “It's the name of the project, the QPM: quantum probability matrix. It's a bridge that, theoretically, can exist between two realities on the foundation of a multiverse singularity.”
“What's that?” Gwen asked.
“Er—well, it's a significant event that occurs exactly the same way in two realities. Same people, same day, same occurrence with precisely the same timing. Down to the nanosecond.”
“It's nearly impossible to achieve,” Toshiko added, staring intently at the screen to read the notes, “because it has to be confirmed across realities. It's a paradox, it can't be done.”
...except in dreams.
“I'm sorry?”
Jack blinked, not realizing he'd spoken aloud until Tosh's voice touched his ears. He was staring at his hands—gripping the jade pendant between thumb and forefinger, running the leather cord through the fingers of his other hand.
He glanced at Owen then—Owen, who was watching him with keen interest, chewing on one thumbnail.
Uncertainly, Jack shut his eyes and did something he tried never to do.
Gripping the jade pendant, Jack opened his mind completely...
He writes for nearly two days, never stopping. He's not sure where the spiral bound notepad came from, he asked and one of the kids got it for him, that and the pen. They bring him food and water, which he picks at.
He writes until his fingers cramp. He writes until the words blur on the page, in his head, writes until the words and the images begin to run together...until he can no longer fully recall his face, can't be sure if his eyes were blue or green.
Can't recall his true name without looking. The one he locked away inside himself, to protect him from his own past.
When he's done, he has a record of things he shouldn't know, from places he's never been. Evidence of people that may not even exist, because the dream is fading. Everything is fading, nearly gone...save for the first line, and the visceral emotion that rises in his chest when he reads it—that can't be anything but completely real.
He goes by Captain Jack Harkness, and I love him.
“Where will you go now, John?”
He smiles slightly at Colonel Trautman, then goes back to surveying the sparsely beautiful desert landscape. They've got a couple hours drive yet to get to their rendezvous point.
“Might come back home, if you can help me with something, sir.”
“Of course. Name it.”
“Long shot, sir, but in Washington...ever heard of an organization called UNIT?”
“...I'm not at liberty to say.”
His smile grows into a full on grin.
“Works for me, sir...any chance you're not at liberty to make a phone call for me, too?...”
“John Rambo?”
“Sir?...”
“Captain Jack Harkness, nice to meet you.”
“...no, you're not.”
“...no. No, I am not—but I hear you're looking for him. That's why UNIT called me. You know a lot for a small town Green Beret in 1991. We could use someone like you at Torchwood.”
“With all due respect, sir...I can't. I can't get near Torchwood Three for at least another fifteen years.”
“Good. I don't want you for Torchwood Three—I'm here to invite you to join Torchwood Four.”
“...who?”
Jack's eyes snapped open at the sound of Ianto's voice, breathless as he meticulously put his psychic shields back up.
“John James Rambo—run a search. Green Beret, Vietnam War.” Jack replied, dizzy with the way his heart was suddenly racing. “Look for recruitment to UNIT's American division in '88 or '89. Gwen? Cross reference the name with any past cases involving Torchwood Three. If that man so much as looked at a map of a location where we caught a Weevil, I want to know about it.”
As Ianto and Gwen left the room, Jack refocused his attention on Owen, who was still chewing on his nail and looking ready to vibrate out of his skin.
“Owen, do the notes tell us where Torchwood Four accessed this QPM?”
“Er...no, sir.”
Jack watched his hand drop, his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, eyes widening.
“...do you know where this QPM is?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes, sir.”
“And are you at liberty to give me the location?”
Owen grinned, bright as the sun.
“Yes, sir—yes, I am.”