#Part 1 of 'The Untold Torchwood Stories Collection'

[unknownmusing]

Torchwood Fanfic: 'The First Tale of the Immortal Storyteller'

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Summary:

Hidden away in a small, undisturbed village located in a valley, a person called Javin Boeshane - a simple, book-keeper and writer, plus Historical Document Collecter - doesn't expect when they went to work that their peaceful, calm life would be shattered by the arrival of.....

....Torchwood and the person called Captain Jack Harkness.

So, begins a series of events all leading to a deep, dark secret which has been buried for some time and waiting to be told.

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Notes:

- An idea that came to mind after watching the last episode of Season 4 of Torchwood, where the learn about the thing called 'The Blessing' - Slight episode diverging, but will be including episode moments etc - Title refers to how Javin records information in Tales which can be spread to generation to generation or be for ones he closely considers family or friends. - In this Cristopf is the Ninth Doctor from parallel universe, where will explain more in further chapters as fic progresses.

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Prologue - 'The Immortal Storyteller'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage - Early Morning

Javin Boeshane's P.O.V:

The steady chime coming from the large Grandfather clock located downstairs in the hallway, brings me out of trying to finish the manuscript for my next book on the typewriter leaning back in my wooden chair to look out the study window at the white, wispy clouds rolling their way across the skyline.

In the place where I live, built for an important purpose is an alien refuge village for various species of aliens who over millennium have chosen to land or crash-land on planet Earth seeking somewhere to survive - away from what has happened to them in their solar systems. 

Precise location of The Boeshane Cottage  - my home - situated above the hidden valley helps in protecting the place from being discovered by UNIT or any other mysterious, hidden organisations who might came to investigate the strange, anomaly they might detect with their equipment or they learn about it from a Witness - referring to ordinary, human beings who accidentally stumbled upon the area, most of them minority being:

Hikers, who'd gotten lost exploring the Highlands; Tourists or Archealogists curious in rumours about a hidden village and finally, UFO Hunters who assisted aliens existed and had spotted some in the Highlands.

Dragging both of my hands down my face, I decide to put the manuscript I've been typing up on hold for now. There is no point in procrastinating over it, when my mind is distracted by something else - probably to do with said 'guest', if he could be called that, staying in the second bedroom of the cottage. 

Pushing my chair back from the study desk, the half-typed manuscript placed in the typewriter waiting to be finished and the blank paper placed to one side, I head out my study to step out onto the top floor landing. 

"Writer's block with the manuscript?" A voice interrupts me, making me turn slightly to face to the source of the voice asking me the question

Seeing my 'guest, Captain John Hart, stepping out of the other bedroom wearing his fashionable crimson miltary, styled jacket - which is not from the 21st Century and more suited to his style - along with his weapons and other stuff. 

Seeing I'm eying the open bedroom door, he closes it behind him - even though I've caught a brief glimpse of the ruffled bedsheets on the bed, clothes scattered about on the bedroom floor and the scent of strong, sex pheromones lingering in the air. 

"You could say that." I reply to his question.

Internally noting 'From his appearance - the well-coiffed hair, a faint scent of shampoo coating his body covered up by a cologne and a slight limp in his step - this indicates last night he had a good time with the person he brought back' until realise he's right beside me, waiting for me to either move or head down the stairs.

Not wanting to hang around on the landing, I turn myself around to descend the stairs with him following close behind me.

Neither of us say much, though no doubt he's itching to ask questions or wants to tell me some important information. 

Reaching the first-floor hallway leading to the front door on my right and kitchen area towards the back, it's a sudden thunk - Dammit, I thought Cristopf had fixed that dodgy step - forcing me to turn slightly to catch him. 

Though I've underestimated the momentum of his combined weight and mine, along with how I've got a foot placed on the second last step to lean myself up to catch him. 

Causing for both of us to fall straight down onto the hallway wooden polished floor to land with a heavy, muffled combined thud. 

"Javin? Hart? Is everything alright? You're not hurt are you?"

Cristopf, I hear calling out to the both of us lying on the wooden, polished hallway floor from the kitchen area, with a muffled, pained groan of "Fuck, why didn't you say about the step. Goddess, this is embarassing that trip up on it again" coming from John. 

Shifting his body to lift himself up off me so I can either get up myself on my own or he can help me get up off the floor. 

Or would have, it hadn't been for him stiffening in a way he's discovered something, his head lifting up to look down at me - in particular where his face had been buried when he fell into my arms - with unexpected, shocked surprise. 

"Everything's fine, Cristopf. John, just tripped on the dodgy step, again." I reply back to him, realising the other man above me is looking downwards at my heaving chest. 

Realising the special binder, holding my breasts flat against my chest to give the illusion I'm male, must have slightly, loosened to reveal the mounds showing underneath my black shirt 

Exposing a secret about myself - the fact, I was 51st Century human who been born male, but had a female body instead and is hiding the fact from people. 

"Does he know?"  John queries, flicking his eyes up to Cristopf, standing by the kitchen doorway followed by back down to me. 

Cristopf must have sensed both of us need some breathing space, so heads back into the kitchen to finish off cooking the breakfast he'd been making, leaving me and John alone. 

My mind debates on what to say him, opening my mouth to speak only to find I really know what to say to him - What can I say? Tell him the truth? Both of us know I can't trust him - with him giving 'Hmm...' getting up off me, holding out his hand bearing the Vortex Manipulator to me.

Taking hold of his right hand, I allow him to haul myself up the wooden, polished hallway floor onto both of my feet leaving me to compose myself. 

"You realise both of you can't hide for long. Soon this very, sweet peaceful life you've built may become shattered, Javin Boeshane."

John states, the back of his knuckle stroking my right cheekbone lightly to soothe me when visibly flinch at his tone of his voice - it's callous of him.

He's right.....He's right. 

Both of us know it. 

It will happen, this sweet, peaceful life I built with Cristopf will be shattered at some point...

But when? 

Now?

A few weeks time?

In the future?

 When.....will...it happen?

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Notes:

- Set before Season 1, Episode 2 Day One which will be worked into next chapter. - This chapter deals with more introducing Javin to Captain Jack and the Torchwood Team

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PART 1 - 'An Ordinary Morning becomes Something Else'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage's Driveway- still Early Morning

"Did John say something to affect you, Javin?"

Cristopf asks, noticing how subdued I'm in not answering his question at first and refusing to look at him because I don't want to admit the truth.

"Just something which irritated me. Nothing to be worried about." I reply to him, unlocking the driver's side to enter the vehicle which use to get to work. Cristopf, wearing his faded jeans, leather jacket and simple, plain green t-shirt underneath steps close to me to place a hand on my waist and other tilt my chin upwards to look at him.

Looking at his gentle, sweet face and those eyes that have seen so many things – Universes forming and dying; life on planets never heard of and so many things that an ordinary human could only imagine – I find myself being pulled into a soothing, reassuring kiss.

Oh, how this reminds me so much of our first kiss we shared.

 I’ve missed this…. Missed his kisses and touch.

For a short time, I become lost in our kissing – lips softly moving against each-other’s and his hands moving to hold me closer to him like he’s afraid to let go of me in case I disappear from him. – until both of us pull back, one hand moving off my waist to stroke my cheekbone lightly with his thumb.

“I better…. umm….head off…” I state to him, breaking the tender moment between us, slipping into the driver’s seat and leaving him to close the driver’s door for me giving a look of ‘Will talk later about this.”

Stepping back to allow me to start the engine, where driving down the gravel driveway look at his reflection in the wingmirror getting smaller and smaller until turn to take the winding road out of the hidden valley to reach the M6.

Due to the trip to get Cardiff taking precisely 9hrs 39 minutes and distance is about 882km, I would have time to mull over stuff that been swirling it’s way around my head during my journey to the city.

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Location – Mermaid Quay, Cardiff Bay – The Boeshane Bookshop – Mid-Morning

Javin Boeshane’s P.O.V:

Hanging up my leather black great-coat on the wooden coat-hanger, I begin to open my Bookshop called The Boeshane Bookshop by going around checking the light sconces are working – it was old Historic building so the electricity wires still held hints of the past – and the small kitchen behind the counter is well-stocked and finally, stepping out onto the Mermaid Quay overlooking Cardiff Bay to pull the shutters covering the windows up.

Outside people are going about their daily lives: school children heading to school; mothers pushing prams or walking with their child or children; teenagers talking amongst themselves, listening to music or on their phone texting or scrolling through social media.

Un-padlocking the first shutters, I go to push one of them up or would have if it weren’t for someone knocking over me with such impact, I fall onto the pavement seeing a person wearing a blue RAF great over-coat chasing something with another person following close behind them.

“Fuck, bloody idiot. A bit of warning…. next time…” I swear out, trying to haul myself up using the flowerboxes on the window for stabilisation only to cry out when one of my leg’s gives out on me drawing the attention of people passing and two other people.

“I apologise. He’s a bit of a handful.” The medical-type person of the two people helping me up from the pavement to back into my bookshop over to red leather high-backed chair to sit down. A heavy wince forms on my features, bones which have shattered beginning to quickly heal due to my immortal healing factor is kicking in.

“Handful? More like menace. You do know there’s law about running about like that.” I grit out, seeing the woman I’ve overheard being called ‘Gwen’ heading into the kitchen-area behind the bookshop counter to get a glass of water.

“Well, uhhh…..he’s in a hurry…” the medical-type man states, his eyes studiously avoiding looking at me and hiding what he nearly about to say in case his colleague overhears him. “Now, can I see your leg. I need to make sure nothing is broken…What!?....I’m a medically trained professional.”

He begins to protest at me, while tries to check my leg, when I place my hand on his to push it off not wanting him to discover it’s already healed – though albeit still sore.

“It’s fine. I have a partner who can look over it.” I state at him, using the armrests of the red leather high-backed chair to haul myself up seeing how he gets up as well – it seems he only comes up to my chin – with a glare on that harsh, yet vulnerable face – Something happened to him. He shows on his face a haunted look of someone who’s experienced loss of a loved one. – and arms crossing over his chest.

Going to the kitchen-area, the bell above the shop-bell indicates someone else coming in a reflection in an ornate mirror embedded into the wall shows they are an older man wearing a RAF blue or grey greatcoat with a younger man wearing a suit beside them.

“Owen, is everything alright? We lost sight of the Wee….ummm, Pickpocket.” He asks the medical-professional, correcting his sentence when gets an elbow in the ribs by the young man in the suit making ‘Owen’ grumble something under his breath.

“Stubborn patient refusing help you mean.” Owen – He reminds me of her so much, right down to the mannerisms and look – replies, not really answering the question asked by his ‘Boss-man’ who comes up him with the ex-policewoman Gwen, appearing at the doorway of the kitchen-area going to interject with something.

Hmm, interesting team ‘Blue/grey greatcoat’ has brought together. One, stubborn and medically trained and hints may have done the danse macabre; the female Gwen an ex-policewoman by her stature and presence and other looking like he’s some kind of archivist.

Blue/grey greatcoat must have noted I’m taking in his team’s appearance, because he steps in front of the young man in the suit to block him from my line of sight. Pursing my lips, I brush past Gwen to go into the kitchen-area taking the glass of water off her to bring up to my lips to take a sip – one taste telling me what’s been placed in it.

“Next time you try and drug me, use a better memory replacement sedative.” I tell her, seeing how she looks at me with her widened, panicked eyes at my words with myself moving to go over to the sink where go to pour what’s in the glass down the kitchen sink to get rid of the contaminated water.

A hand grabbing hold of my wrist holding it tightly, makes me stiffen at it. I decide not to turn my face to look at the ‘Boss-man’ keeping myself looking at the calendar where important events are dated hearing him commanding one of his teammates.

“Gwen, lock the front door.” Blue/grey greatcoat orders, his hand moving to my trouser pocket for the key it makes me slap it away first, using my other hand to slap him across the face or would of if it hadn’t for his name being called out.

“JACK, LOOK OUT!!?”

My whole body goes completely numb, forcing me to wrench free from ‘Jack’ allowing the glass of water I’ve been holding still to fall onto the polished kitchen-area floor with a tinkling smash I only distantly hear.

It’s not possible!!!? He cannot be!!!? He can’t be…..Jaketh-Javic Piotr Thane, my sibling!!!?

Memories flood into my head, overwhelming me so much it’s like a dam which holds back tonnes of water breaking apart to allow torrent of water to cascade down into the valley below, swamping everything in it’s destructive path.

“Hey, we’re not going to kill you. Listen to me, we’re not going kill you.” A voice breaks through the haze of rushing water, forcing me to lift my head up to look straight at the very concerned face of my sibling, Jack/Jaketh-Javic’s face.

His team-mates who have come into the kitchen area are looking at me with various signs of concern written on their face – one protective; another medically trained and one empathic by the way he’s trembling at the doorway – with Owen, checking my pulse.

I try to speak, but the rush of water within my head begins to get louder again it blocks out everything around me.

My body must be seizing uncontrollably because can distantly feel someone's hands wrapping around me to stop my body thrashing about until finally the distinct prick of a needle silences the water, allowing me to go limp in the arms of the person holding me.

Maybe for the better.

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