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the-torchwood-archive · 9 months ago

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Plant Life by Trevor Baxendale.

Something I find interesting about this story is how often I see people misinterpreting Jack's behaviour in it, especially at the end. They want some sort of relief from him. Some sort of intimate moment. But honestly, I like how it ends. There's no space for intimacy because he's angry with himself. Angry that he missed the signs of an alien invasion because he was too preoccupied with wanting to be soft with Ianto.

Almost letting the world end because you want to protect the person you love. To me that's better than a tender moment. It's very Torchwood. It certainly won't be the last time.

Full text is under the cut. This was a quick transcription, so let me know if I've missed anything.

Gwen skipped lightly through the Hub portal as it ground slowly open. It wasn’t something she did very often. There was usually something to worry about – a midnight text to alert her to an attempted alien invasion or some kind of extra-dimensional incursion through the Rift – and any step taken in the underground headquarters of Torchwood could be a step closer to death.

But not today. Today was different. Today was normal. Properly normal. And nothing was going to stop it being normal.

“Good afternoon,” yelled Captain Jack.

Gwen smiled to herself as she jogged up the steps to his office.

He was sitting back with his boots up on the desktop, a wide, gleaming white smile splitting his face in half, “Nice of you to show up for work today, Mrs Williams,” he continued. “That’s if you actually had doing any work in mind. You could just float around the place looking all love-struck and everything if you’d prefer. It says in the rulebook you can to that in lieu of a honeymoon.”

“Cooper,” said Gwen, still grinning, “I’m keeping my name. Rhys has agreed.”

“Oh, he has, has he?”

“Yeah. Said it wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t Gwen Cooper anymore. Besides,” Gwen raised her left hand and waggled her fingers, “this says I’m a Mrs.”

“And what does that say?” Jack pointed a finger at the thing under her left arm.

She looked down as if surprised, “This? It doesn’t say anything. It’s a plant.”

“A plant.”

“Yeah. Spider plant. For the flat. I picked it up from the market this morning on the way in. Do you like it?”

She held out the spindly little plant for Jack to see. He straightened up, a slight look of repulsion on his movie star face, “Not keen on spiders.”

Gwen laughed, following him out of the office and down towards Tosh’s desk space. Toshiko was staring intently at the phalanx of glowing computer screens that constituted her workstation.

“Morning, Gwen,” she said without looking up. Reflections of the monitors flickered in her glasses, “How’s married life?”

“Fantastic,” Gwen told her, gleefully spinning Tosh around in her chair. She skipped after Jack, “I never knew you were scared of spiders.”

“I’m not. I said I wasn’t keen on them. We had a falling out on Janus Prime, spiders and me.”

“Well, this is just a plant, that’s all. No worries,” Gwen plonked the potted plant down on her desk and bounced into her seat.

Jack frowned, “I hope all this post-nuptial bliss wears off soon. I'll have to have a work with Rhys, get him to start leaving his dirty socks on the floor and toe-nail clippings in the bed.”

“Oh, he does that already,” sighed Gwen, “Like I said, no worries.”

“I’m nauseous.”

“I’m in need of coffee,” Gwen rapped on her desktop, “Where’s Ianto? A Monday Morning Special is required.”

“Tea boy’s in the Hot House,” said Owen as he emerged from the depths of the autopsy room.

“Don’t call him that,” Gwen chided, “What’s he doing in there?”

---------------

“My turn to water the plants,” explained Ianto. He was carefully pouring a plastic cup full of water into the soil of a pot plant, his face a picture of care and concentration. Ianto Jones approached every one of his duties with the same level of precision and commitment, whether it was making a cup of coffee or aiming a stungun at a weevil.

The Hot House was the team’s quiet area, a small place of tranquillity in the often frenetic environment of the Hub. It was warm and secluded, located in an angular glass pod overlooking the rest of the base.

Gwen turned away from her view of Jack and caught a glimpse of Ianto’s pinstripe through the foliage, “I thought this was Owen’s thing?”

“Well, I imagine he’s got other things on his mind right now,” Ianto responded, “What with being dead and everything.” He straightened up, observing his handiwork with a high achiever’s critical eye, “Besides, if it’s in the Hub, it’s my thing.”

Gwen walked along the rack of plants, letting her fingers play through the leaves, “These are all alien then, are they?”

Ianto shrugged, “Some of them are, certainly. Spores or seeds that have drifted in through the Rift. We plant them and see if they grow. Most die. There are some plants in the universe which don’t photosynthesise – and they find carbon dioxide poisonous. Others need specifically controlled environments,” he tapped the glass of a large blue bottle, “and ultraviolet light. Some only thrive in absolute darkness.” He knocked on the lid of a large black box. It was completely sealed and impossible to see into, “There’s something growing in here, allegedly.”

“How can you be sure?”

“We can’t. I call it Schrodinger’s plant.”

Gwen stooped to look at a small purple flower embedded in rich peaty soil on the next bench, “What’s this one called? It’s beautiful.”

“Nose Biter,” Ianto said flatly, “It’s carnivorous.”

Gwen jerked back as the jagged petals twitched.

“Not all plants are alien in origin,” Ianto continued as if conducting a tour, “Some come through the Rift from the future and the past. This one is from the Silurian era.” He indicated a large, bushy fern.

Gwen pulled an appropriately impressed face, although she had no idea what he was talking about. She looked at the specimen that Ianto had been watering so carefully when she came in, “And what about that one?”

“Ah, that’s my favourite.”

It was rather plain. Just a thin green stalk and a single, rather nondescript leaf. “Riight,” said Gwen.

“It’s really come on in the last few days,” Ianto explained, “It was practically dead last week. Owen as all for throwing it out, but I believe in giving everyone a chance.”

“Everyone?”

“Thing. Every thing.”

Gwen straightened up, bored. “It’s very nice.”

“All it needed was a drop of water. And a bit of patience.”

“Lovely,” Gwen turned her full beam smile on Ianto. “Any danger of a coffee this morning?”

---------------

Owen didn’t sleep anymore and spent most of his time pottering around the Hub. Captain Jack spent all of his time at the Hub; in fact, his sleeping quarters were located beneath his office, accessed via a salvaged submarine hatch set in the floor. Owen used to think it was just eccentric, but now he understood what it was like to have no life at all outside Torchwood. Or no life at all, full stop.

Nethertheless, no matter how early Owen checked, Jack was always up and washed and dressed before him and ready to greet the day with that big grin, “Morning!” Jack called from his office as Owen stalked up from the calls. He’d been inspecting the Weevil containment locks, just for something to do. He waved at Jack, who signalled back with a cheery flick of The Times. Somewhere above them a pterodactyl flapped lazily around the roof vault.

“Jack! Owen!” Ianto’s voice rang out from somewhere above them. Startled, Owen looked to see Ianto at the top of the spiral staircase leading to the Hot House. He was in his shirtsleeves, but still with a waistcoat and tie – what passed for early morning casual with Ianto.

“Hey, Ianto,” Jack yelled, “What gives?”

“New bud! New bud!” he cried, and then darted back into the Hot House.

Owen and Jack found him peering intensely at his plant – it had already become Ianto’s plant – and pointing, “Look! Just there. It’s a new bug. Isn’t that fantastic?”

They examined the plant. Sure enough, juts by the leaf, there was a tiny, shiny green bulge.

“I wonder where it came from,” Jack mused, “How far across the universe and how many centuries it’s travelled to get here and survive.”

“It’s doing well,” Owen concluded, “I’d almost given up on it.”

“You had given up on it,” Ianto said.

“Maybe I could run some tests,” Owen suggested, “Cross-check the cell patterns with the stuff in the archive. May tell us something.”

“There’s no need to waste your time on that,” Ianto said, “It’s here and it’s alive. That’s all that matters, surely?”

“It’s something to do,” Owen insisted.

Jack said, “Why don’t you check the archives anyway, see if you can find something that fits the description. Ianto can help. It’s going to be a quiet day after all. Tosh is off out and I’m tidying up some stuff with UNIT.”

But Ianto wasn’t listening. He was very gently pouring water into the pot around the base of the plant, watching the soil soaking it up.

Owen shrugged and headed for the exit, “At the double,” he sighed.

---------------

“Do you think it likes coffee?” Gwen asked.

Ianto shook his head, “I doubt it. Too many toxins. At the moment all it needs is water.”

“At the moment?”

“And love and understanding, of course.” Ianto added with a smile.

Gwen laughed gently, “You must have green fingers.”

“Hi there,” said Jack, strolling into the Hot House, “Thought I’d find you here. Everyone wants to know how Ianto’s plant is doing.”

“There’s another leaf coming through,” Ianto said proudly.

“Never a dull moment in Torchwood,” Jack said.

“It’s sort of cute, don’t you think?” smiled Gwen.

“That depends,” Jack replied, “on how much it takes Ianto away from his normal duties. Such as coffee.”

“Good point,” Gwen nodded.

“I’ll get you coffee in a moment,” Ianto assured them. There was a hint of abruptness in his tone that made Gwen and Jack pull a face at each other.

“I’ll get on with my work,” Gwen whispered, heading for the door.

“Yeah,” said Jack, “Me too.”

---------------

“Have you thought of a name for it yet?” Toshiko asked, powering her workstation down for the night.

Ianto school his head, “No pet names.”

“It seems silly not calling it anything,” Tosh insisted gently, “We ought to give it a name.”

“Owen’s been checking through the botanical archives to see if he can find a match,” Ianto said, yawning, “We’ll know what it is if he finds one.”

“You look tired.”

Ianto stretched, leaning back on the old settee, “I could do with some sleep, that’s true.”

“You’re spending all your time here,” Tosh said, “Nothing unusual there, I know. But you looked bushed. Jack won’t thank you for being too tired to work. It may be quiet now, but you know how it is around here. Anything could happen at any time. We need to be ready.”

Ianto dragged a hand down his face, “I know, I know. I’ll go home soon. I’ll just check on the plant first.” He heaved himself up and headed for the Hot House.

---------------

“Well, I don’t really see any harm in it,” Gwen said the next day. They were in the boardroom, Jack playing thoughtfully with a pencil. Gwen sitting on the next, Tosh next to her. Owen was leaning against the double doors.

“You think it’s a hobby?” Jack asked, unimpressed.

“Well, I don’t know much about hobbies.”

“Hobbies are for men,” Owen commented.

“Ianto doesn’t have any hobbies,” Jack said.

“He’s very fond of that old stopwatch,” Gwen said, her eyes full of innocence.

“That’s not a hobby,” Jack insisted.

“It’s only a plant,” Toshiko ventured, “What harm can there be?”

“He’s obsessed with the thing,” Jack said, his voice hardening.

“The plant isn’t poisonous, carnivorous, mobile, or intelligent,” Toshiko continued, “For all intents and purposes, just a plant. I repeat: what harm can there be?”

Jack swivelled around to face Owen, “Have you come up with anything on the database?”

“Nothing. The Torchwood botanical records go back over 100 years. There’s nothing on the computer, the microfiche, the ledgers or diaries that fits the description. We don’t even know what it is. We don’t even know,” he added meaningfully, “if it’s alien.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gwen, “I thought all the plants in the Hot House were extraterrestrial in origin, or at least from another timezone.”

“So we think,” Owen replied, “What proof do we have in this particular case? I should point out that there’s nothing that fits the description of the plant in any Earth records either, but I’ve only been looking for three days and it’s a big job.”

“We could take a cell sample,” Toshiko said, “Put it under the microscope.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t done that already,” Jack cut in.

Toshiko looked momentarily fazed, unused to being reprimanded, even mildly. Jack had spoken softly, but he wasn’t smiling, “I – I just didn’t think it was necessary,” she said, “We’ve been busy with other things. I don’t see what the problem is – Ianto’s looking after his plant, that’s all.”

“She’s got a point, Jack.” Gwen agreed.

Jack sighted and threw his pencil down on the table top, signalling that the meeting was over, “Okay, back to work, people. I’m getting paranoid in my old age. Scat.”

They filed out, but he called Gwen back just before she left, “How did Rhys like the spider plant?” he asked.

She laughed, “Never even noticed it.”

---------------

The plant was looking very healthy. It was a good couple of centimetres taller, and possibly straighter, with two full leaves and the start of a new one. It wasn’t all that big, or even very special looking, but it now dominated the Hot House.

This was partially due to the fact that nearly all the other plants had gone.

Ianto had moved them out of the Hot House one by one. They were stacked on the steps of the spiral staircase and Toshiko had to climb very carefully through the foliage to reach the door to the pod. Inside, more plants had been moved to the floor on the far side, away from Ianto’s own little flower, and many of the racks had been completely cleared.

“Ianto…what’s happened up here?”

“Nothing,” Ianto grunted, straightening after placing the heavy glass bell jar containing who-knew-what by the door, “I’m just making a bit of space.”

“For what?”

“For the plant. It’s getting crowded. It can’t grow properly without light and space.”

Toshiko stepped into the Hot House, which now seemed very bare. Her voice echoed slightly against the glass walls as she spoke, “Does Owen know you’ve done this?”

“Owen?” Ianto repeated, “What’s his got to do with him?”

“Well, he sort of…kept this place going, didn’t he?”

“Owen’s got other things on his mind right now. As I think I have already pointed out.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Jack says you’re obsessed with this plant thing,” Toshiko said carefully.

Ianto smiled, “He’s jealous.”

“Possible. You are giving it a lot of attention though. And it’s just a plant, after all.”

“He worries too much, and so do you. That’s your problem, Tosh. Too much worrying. Sometimes you’ve just got to do what’s right and ignore everything else.”

Toshiko was a little taken aback. She had never heard Ianto speak like this. He didn’t sound hostile, but there was something wrong. She took a deep breath and said, “I thought it was time we took a sample for investigation.”

He looked at her, and saw she was holding a microscope slide.

“You can’t,” he said.

“I only need a tiny piece,” Toshiko said, “I want to have a look at its cellular make-up.”

“You can’t,” Ianto repeated.

He said it simply, and with a smile, but Toshiko didn’t doubt him for a second, “All right,” she relented, “But I’ll have to tell Jack. He asked specifically. At the very least the plant needs to be catalogued, and we can’t do that without a cell sample.”

She left the Hot House, still holding the empty slide, while Ianto carefully added a few more drops of water to the plant’s soil.

---------------

“Hey,” Jack said from the doorway, “Need a break?”

“No thanks. I’m good here.”

“Kinda weird, though,” Jack said, leaning back against the glass that overlooked the rest of the Hub, He took a sip from his mug of coffee, “I mean, you sitting there like that. Doing nothing.”

“I’m not doing nothing,” Ianto stated. He didn’t look at Jack. His attention was fixed on the plant. It was all that was left in the Hot House now, with the exception of the swivel chair Ianto was sitting on, right in front of it.

“Right,” Jack agreed slowly, “I guess I missed that.”

“Yes,” agreed Ianto, “I guess you did.”

“The others are getting pretty worried about you.”

“There’s no need for anyone to worry. We’re fine.”

“We?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine, really.” Ianto looked up at Jack, “Really.”

“Okay,” Jack said. He sipped his coffee again and grimaced, “Thing is, we’re all drinking lousy coffee here now. This stuff is disgusting. Tastes like Sontaran dysentery. And believe me, that’s something you don’t want to taste twice.”

“There’s more to life than coffee.”

“What, really?”

“That’s all you think I’m good for, isn’t it, Jack? Making coffee.”

Jack grinned, “Well, I can think of a couple other things you’re good for.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Jack moved further into the room, keeping his hands in his pockets, casual, “Ianto, this has gone far enough. You need a break. You haven’t slept in two days. You haven’t shaved either. And you know what I think of beard rash.”

“Bring me a razor and I’ll shave.”

“Sure. How about a change of clothes too? Because frankly, Ianto, you ain’t as fragrant as you used to be.”

“I’m not leaving. More important things to do in here.”

“Just for ten minutes, then. A comfort break?”

“Don’t need one. Haven’t drunk anything in the last twenty-four hours.”

Something crunched under Jack’s boot and he noticed some tiny pieces of broken glass glinting on the floor behind Ianto’s chair. He stepped carefully over them and leaned on the back of the chair. It creaked slightly but Ianto didn’t move. Jack took a deep breath, “Don’t you think this is all a bit…unusual?” Receiving no reply, Jack squatted down at the side of the chair, speaking softly, “Ianto…I need a cell sample from the plant. We have to check it out, see what makes it tick. I mean, we know it doesn’t actually tick. We just want to find out what it is, what it’s doing.”

“It’s growing. It’s a plant. What else would it do?”

“Well, we don’t know. That’s why we’d like to check it out,” Jack held up a slim rectangle of glass, “I’ve got a slide right here. Let me take a sample and I can get out of here, leave you and the plant alone together. How does that sound?”

No answer.

“Toshiko’s got the equipment ready to do. All she needs is a sample. How about it?”

Still no answer.

Jack moved towards the plant, extending his hand with the microscope slide. Ianto grabbed Jack’s wrist, fast as a rattlesnake. His knuckles were white, but his eyes were red – bloodshot, but wide and alert.

“Don’t touch it,” he hissed, “You can’t touch it!”

Jack tried to pull away, but Ianto held him in a surprisingly strong grip. They struggled against each other for a few seconds until Jack wrenched his arm free, “Goddamnit, Ianto, I’m not fighting you over a plant!”

“Then don’t fight me!” Ianto cried hotly, “Just leave me alone and everything will be fine. Can’t you see that?”

Jack stood up, breathing heavily, “What’s up with your arm?”

“What?” Ianto looked down at his arm, where the shirt cuff had been pulled away to reveal a series of sticking plasters on the white flesh, “Nothing. I had an accident, that’s all. I was moving one of the specimens and the jar broke. Cut my arm. It’s nothing.”

Jack glanced down at the fragments of glass on the floor, “You need to be more careful.”

“I’ll brush it up later.”

“I wasn’t talking about the glass.”

Jack tossed the slide down onto the floor and walked out.

---------------

There was no natural light in the Hub. The Torchwood base was located deep below ground, and there were no windows. It was sometimes impossible to tell the difference between day and night, and this made it very easy to lose track of time. To counteract this, and maintain some vague kind of biological clock, Jack found it useful to dim the lights in the evening, and then turn them right back up in the morning. Ianto had once likened it to life on a submarine. Jack had winked and told him that he’d once spent many weeks onboard a German U-Boat in World War Two, “Technically I was a prisoner of war, but we were submerged for a long time and, well, sailors are sailors the world over.”

That had been in the early days, when Ianto blushed easily, “They’re called submariners,” he’d muttered, “Not sailors.”

Jack smiled at the memory. There was always a hint of the pedant about Ianto. Underneath that soft exterior, there was steel. Very very people got to know that. Those that did usually regretted it.

“He’ll be okay,” Gwen said quietly, joining him by the circular window in his office which overlooked the Hub. It was gone midnight and the vase chamber was in semi-darkness. On the far side they could see the glow of the lights in the Hot House, and Ianto, still sitting there watching his plant, “We’ll find a way.”

“Sure. We could just storm in and drag him out if we wanted to,” Jack sighed, “That’s what Owen wants.”

“Since when did you take any notice of what Owen wants?”

“There has to be a better way, Gwen. I don’t want to hurt him”

“He’ll fall asleep eventually. He has to. That’s what the police do in siege situations. Wait long enough and they’ll just…nod off.”

“Ianto won’t. He’s tougher than he looks. And that plant’s got a grip on him. I don’t know how, but I’m going to bread that grip, Gwen. That I promise.”

“He’s moving,” Gwen said suddenly.

Ianto was little more than a silhouette, but he had got up from his chair.

They both ran out of the office, Jack leaping down the steps to the lower level while Gwen clattered along behind him. Eventually she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt, “Wait!” she hissed, “Don’t rush! He’ll hear us!”

Owen emerged from the cells, looked at Jack and Gwen, glanced up at the Hot House. He realised immediately something was up and shot a questioning look at Gwen.

She raised a finger to her lips, signalling caution.

Jack was already moving up the spiral staircase, as quick and silent as a jungle cat. Gwen followed, trying to match him. Automatically, she reached behind her hip for her pistol, only then remembering that it was on her desk. She glanced behind her, past Owen, and saw Tosh heading towards them as well, pausing only to collect her PDA.

In the Hot House, Ianto was bent over his plant. His shirtsleeve was rolled up past his elbow, and his forearm was extended. The plasters had been removed. There were deep cuts in the flesh, and the blood stood out stark and red against the white skin, running down his wrist. His fist was clenched so the blood came freely, trickling into the soil of the plant pot.

Jack stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight. He felt as if he was intruding on an intensely private communion. Ianto was oblivious, his full concentration on the plant. As Jack watched, a thing proboscis emerged from the plant stem, extending like the tongue of a hummingbird towards Ianto’s arm. It burrowed into the wound, pulsing slightly as it lapped up the blood.

“Bastard!” Jack had seen more than enough, hurling himself across the room, wrenching Ianto away from the plant. Blood jetted into the air as he spun away, collapsing into the waiting arms of Owen and Gwen. They lowered him gently to the floor.

The plant actually hissed.

Jack swept it off the shelf with enough force to send it crashing into the far wall. The pot burst against the glass in a shower of dirt. The plant hit the floor, white roots writhing in the air, groping like a hundred fingers for the scattered soil. Two quick strides took Jack to where it lay. He raised his boot and crushed the plant flat, screwing his feel down until it left a smear of green and red across the floor.

Instantly, Ianto fell slack. His head lolled as Gwen tried to sit him up. Owen was already putting a field dressing on his arm, “Okay, Ianto, you’re all right. We’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

Toshiko scanned the remains of the plant with her PDA, “No life signs,” she reported, “Whatever it was, it’s head. And not before time, I have to say.”

Jack’s lip curled in disgust, “What the hell was it?”

“A plant,” Owen said, “Some time of telepathic species, perhaps, using mind control of the local fauna for protection. It used Ianto to look after it, protect it, feed it. He was nothing more than a slave.”

“He’s all right now, though,” Gwen assured him, “The moment you killed it, I felt him relax, like a puppet with its strings cut. He’s free of the influence.”

Jack turned to leave, “Get this place cleaned up. Get Ianto cleaned up. This room feels dirty now.”

Gwen rested a hand on his arm, “Don’t be hard on yourself. No one knew what to do for the best.”

“Except the plant?”

“It’s gone. We’re still here. Ianto’s still here.”

“What if we hadn’t been alert? What if it had reproduced, spread seeds, got out of the Hub? Imagine a whole planet with those things growing in every park and hedgerow. The human race could have been reduced to mindless slaves doing nothing but feeding blood sucking plants,” He shrugged, then looked back up at his people, This is our life, guys. This is Torchwood. We can’t relax. We can’t hesitate. We have to be ready.”

#torchwood #jack harkness #ianto jones #owen harper #toshiko sato #gwen cooper #plant life #short story

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