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Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 3, Chapter 7
Title: Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 3, Chapter 7
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwil, +Team
Word Count: 3,927
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When a seven-year-old boy falls through the Rift, Ianto and Jack decide to adopt him. This is the story of his life at Torchwood.
Chapter Summary: Aliens crash land at Gwil's school. With his dads not at the scene, Gwil takes charge of the situation and tries to do what he can.
Warnings: illness/injury
A/N: This was 90% finished yesterday, but then I went out and drank way too much. You know, standard Wednesday evening. Hopefully this chapter was worth the delay.
Previous Chapters:
Prologue | The First Year: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 | The Second Year: 1, 1.PWP, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 | The Third Year: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
Gwil was in the middle of creating a very elaborate, very important Valentine's Day card for Katie when the crash happened.
The crash was loud, and completely unmistakable. It sounded like a giant was stomping on the playground with metal boots: all loud, low frequency vibrations, plus the screeching sound of metal tearing through metal. Gwil's hands automatically went up to his ears, as did the other children's in the classroom. His next instinct was to run to his bedroom and lock the door, just like he did whenever something bad happened at home. But he was at school: there wasn't a bedroom door to lock.
As the children started screaming – some running to the window, some huddled at their desks, and Mrs. Richards doing her best to keep calm, even though she looked panicked herself – Gwil did the next best thing: he ran to the classroom door and locked it, shoving a desk in front of it for good measure.
With that done, Gwil ran over to the window, just to get a quick glimpse of what was going on. Usually he would just leave all this up to his dads, or his aunties or uncles, but they weren't there. No one was there that could help, Gwil knew. Except maybe him.
Outside looked like the crash he saw on the M4 one time with his tad. There was metal all crunched up and thrown about, and the ground was dug up in some spots and smushed in others. At the center of it all was a big spaceship, shaped like a giant sideways eight. It looked like it was normally a gleaming silver, but now was covered with dirt and pieces of playground.
Zack was standing next to Gwil at the window, peering out at the sight. “It looks like balls!” the boy snickered.
Gwil frowned. He supposed it sort of looked like balls. Not really, though: they were too spread apart, for one. For another... Gwil pondered the ship. “It's a 'finity sign,” he breathed.
Next to him, Zack paused and glanced his way. “Like, not-uh times infinity?”
Reaching for a scrap piece of paper and a pencil, Gwil started to draw. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “My Auntie Tosh – she's brilliant with maths and computers – she showed me it. See:” he held the paper out to Zack, sideways eight painstakingly scrawled, “infinity.”
A scream drew Gwil's attention from his conversation with Zack. It had come from the other side of the classroom, where a girl was running away from a window in terror. Mrs. Richards had opened the window on that far side – to get the children out, Gwil figured, since several of his classmates were gone. Mrs. Richards screamed this time, trying to herd the children away from the window. “S-s-stay back!” she shouted. “Don't hurt them, please!”
Curiously Gwil started forward, peering at the ground beneath the open window. A little ball of slime caught his attention, inert below the window. As he drew closer, he saw the ball twitching, expanding and contracting, until it rolled a little ways forward. Mrs. Richards screamed, and the ball of slime stopped again.
Now Gwil was only a meter away from the ball. It was maybe the size of his dad's hand spread wide, and a shimmery, silvery color. Gwil cocked his head at it. “Hello?” he ventured. He felt a twinge of guilt. His dads had always told him not to talk to aliens – not unless they were there with him. But he had seen them work enough times, and they weren't there: Gwil would have to handle this all on his own.
“Hello. I'm Gwil. You're on Earth,” he tried again. “That's in the Sol System, on one of the outside arms of the Milky Way. I think we're Galactic Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha, but I'm not positive. Do you need help?”
The little ball of slime expanded and contracted, almost seeming to vibrate in indecision. Then, very cautiously, it started to roll toward Gwil. Without thinking Gwil stuck out his hand, as he might to a strange dog. The ball of slime stopped centimeters from it, expanding and contracting several times in rapid succession. It looked to Gwil like it was sniffing him. Then, very gently, the ball of slime rolled forward and brushed against Gwil's hand.
Gwil's nose wrinkled. It was cold. And slimy. But he gritted his teeth and bared it, tapping the slime lightly several times. “I don't think you're a grown-up,” he pondered. “You're a kid. Or a pet.”
Another scream from behind him cut short Gwil's musings, causing his head to snap up. Outside the still-open window stood two tall, elegant figures. They weren't human in the slightest: their skin appeared similar to the slime ball's, just more silvery and less slimy, although there still seemed to be a light coat of slime over both. They were wispy, amorphous figures, legs in the shape of three ellipsis, like a trio of stretched-thin rubber bands. They had no arms to speak of, or head: just a torso with a small indent in the very top. Gwil decided to address the indent when he spoke.
“Hello.” He wiped his hand on his trousers, then held it up palm-out to the two new figures. “I'm Gwil. You're on Earth. Did you crash?”
The alien on the right's indent moved quickly, and a strange blooping noise filled the air. Gwil supposed it was speaking. He waited a moment for it to finish, then spoke again. “Sorry, I don't have a translator thing-a-ma-jig on me. My dads usually have that stuff. Do you have one I could borrow?”
The alien on the left started chattering in its weird, bloopy language. It seemed excited: its “chest” expanding and contracting quickly as it spoke.
When it stopped, Gwil tried again. “I'm sorry, I still can't understand. I told your pet ball that you're on Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy, Galactic Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha. I dunno if any of that helps...”
“We are sorry.” Gwil started backwards. Right-side alien had spoken in English! Its voice was a bit deep and muddy, kind of like it was speaking through a vat of mud. But it was definitely English. Right-side alien continued: “Our translator required more data before it could begin functioning. What is this language we are speaking?”
Ignoring the gasps from his classmates and teacher behind him, Gwil nodded understandingly. “English. It's not the only language on Earth, though. There's bunches.”
Left-side alien leaned forward, sort of like he was bowing slightly to Gwil. “Thank you. We will make a note of it in our records.”
While the left-side alien expanded and contracted – Gwil wasn't sure if he was making that note he mentioned or just breathing really heavily – Gwil chanced a glance back at his classmates. He winced. They were all staring at him, right at him, as he spoke with the aliens. That wasn't good. Tad and Dad always said how important it was to keep the aliens a secret, but here they were: out in the open and in front of his whole class. Maybe he should call them.
Gwil turned back to the aliens. “Misters, do you mind if I call my dads? Their job is to help aliens, so they'd know how to fix your ship, or something.”
Left alien tilted to the side. Gwil thought it kind of looked like he was cocking his head – except there was no head, just a torso with three rubber-band legs. “You are a child? Our apologies. Yes, call your adults in.”
Gwil grinned out the window at the aliens before hurrying over to his rucksack. Thank goodness. It was too scary, having to try and take on all the responsibility of talking to the aliens himself. He'd much rather his dads deal with it themselves. Then he could get back to focusing on important Gwil stuff: like that Valentine's Day card.
The phone rang only once before Tad picked up, the sound of the SUV's sirens loud in the background. “Gwil? Oh God, Gwil, is that you?”
“Yeah, Tad.” Gwil rolled his eyes. His tad worried so much.
On the other line, Gwil could hear Tad breathing loudly into the mouthpiece, and a noise that sounded suspiciously like sobs. “Are... are you alright?”
“Yeah, Tad. There's-”
Tad cut him off, and now Gwil was fairly certain his tad was about to pass out, he was breathing so fast. “Hide, Gwil. Go hide. Find a little space, and... No! Jack!”
There were the sounds of a scuffle and the rustling of hands over the receiver of the phone before Dad's voice came over the voice, loud and crisp. “Hey, champ.”
“Hey, Dad.” Gwil tapped his foot, faltering only once or twice in its rhythm. His dads could be downright silly at times. He hurried on before Dad could stop him. “Dad, I talked to the aliens. They seem nice. I think their spaceship crashed. Tell Auntie Tosh it looks like an infinity sign!”
Gwil could hear Tad shouting at Dad in the background before Dad spoke again. “Can you tell me what they look like?”
“Yeah,” Gwil turned back to the aliens, studying them closely. “They've got three legs,” he could hear his dad start to relay his description back to someone else in the SUV, “but the legs are shaped like stretched-out rubber-bands. Or a thin race car track. And they're covered in slime. And silvery. They don't have heads or arms. I think their mouth is this little spot on the top of their chest.”
He waited a moment as Dad spoke to whoever it was in the SUV, smiling over at the aliens. To his surprise, the little sphere pet had rolled over to him and was bumping gently as his foot. Gwil wrinkled his nose and bent down to pet it again. If it weren't so slimy and gross, it might be cute. Like a hamster in a ball, except both were merged into a single being.
Gwil's head swam for a moment, and he had to blink to focus on what his dad was saying. “Huh?”
“Gwil, you there?”
Oh. Gwil felt sick. Like that time Uncle Owen had given him all those shots. Except worse. And really... pale.
Gwil sat down on the floor with a thump. The little slime-ball nudged at his knee, in what appeared to be concern. Gwil patted it. “'m... kay...” He blinked extra, extra slow.
At the edge of his awareness, he could hear his dad saying something through the phone at him. “Don't... poison...”
But Gwil's head was feeling too swimmy, and his stomach too inky, and he just really had to lay his head down because it was so heavy. “Dad,” he managed to mumble into the phone as he slowly laid himself down on the classroom floor. “Don't hurt 'em. They're the nice aliens. Just... ship crash...”
The phone clattered from Gwil's grip to the floor as he finally succumbed to the darkness swimming at the edge of his vision. The last thing he heard was the sound of the SUV's sirens, louder than they had been on the phone.
**
Gwil cried out, clutching his stomach weakly. “Tad,” he groaned. “Hurts.” Tears welled in his eyes. His tummy hurt so bad. He wanted his tad.
“Shh.” A hand wrapped around his, and Gwil opened his eyes just long enough to see that it was Tad before shutting them again against the pain. He tried to roll to the side, to clutch at his stomach properly and curl into a little tiny ball of pain and wretchedness, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Oh no you don't.” That was Uncle Owen's voice. “Stay right there, little man. Otherwise I'll end up jabbing a hole in your arm.”
Gwil sobbed again, trying to clutch at his stomach but being stopped by mysterious hands again. He cried harder, unable to do anything to alleviate the pain. It hurt. It hurt so much.
A small prick on his arm went barely noticed, as all of Gwil's pain receptors seemed entirely focused in his stomach at the moment. Then, suddenly, the pain started to ebb. Gwil's head went swimmy again, and for a moment he panicked. But then the swimmy-ness took away the panic, and Gwil slowly relaxed into the fog. This was a good kind of swimmy.
“There you go, il nostro poco barista.” Gwil blinked slowly, gazing up at Uncle Owen. He was smiling down at Gwil. “Told you I'd take care of you.”
Gwil nodded, marveling at the feel of his head moving. It felt so... big. And... moving. “'s good. Now.”
Uncle Owen winked down at him. “Only the best painkillers for the hero of the hour.”
“Gwil.” Tad's voice broke through Owen's. Slowly Gwil scanned the air above him, until his eyes drifted to the left and he saw his tad.
“Hi, Tad.” A small worry niggled at his mind. “Aliens okay? Don't let Dad hurt them.”
Tad nodded, tight smile on his lips. “The aliens are just fine. Dad, Auntie Tosh, and Uncle Mickey are helping them fix their ship right now.” Tad paused for a second before continuing, smile still tight. Weakly Gwil reached up to poke it, push it into a happier smile. His hand was intercepted with little effort on his tad's part. “They want to see you: the aliens. They were very worried when you got sick.” Tad paused for longer this time, long enough that Gwil started to fall asleep again. When Tad spoke, it was softly: almost like he wasn't meant to hear it. “Don't play hero again. Please.”
Gwil found he couldn't keep his eyes open even as he replied. “You and Dad weren't there,” he mumbled. “An' everyone else was scared.”
A hand stroked through his hair, and Gwil could tell without even opening his eyes that it was his tad's. A moment later, his tad pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling him into a prone hug.
“'m'kay, Tad,” he mumbled. “Just... nap. 'fore aliens... leave.” Gwil was asleep almost before the last syllable left his lips.
**
The sun was lower in the sky when Gwil woke from his drug-induced nap. The room was quieter than it had been before. As Gwil pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around, he saw why: there were no panicking students or teachers in the classroom.
Groggily Gwil felt around him, patting at the stretcher Uncle Owen must have placed him on. Moving to push the warm emergency blanket off him, Gwil stopped when he caught sight of his hands. They were covered in thick bandages, completely wrapped up so that his hands looked like round white stumps.
Gwil panicked. He had seen his hands looking like this before: not with nice, clean bandages, but rags and scraps of clothing. There had been blood, that time. Lots of blood. And no more finger. If both his whole hands were covered, then... then...
Starting to cry, Gwil kicked the blanket off him, then started to slide off the gurney. A sharp pain in his arm stopped him. It was the IV, still connected to him. Gwil cried. He couldn't pull it out because his hands were gone, but he wanted to go and find his tad.
“Gwil!”
Gwil's head shot up, tears blurring the sight of his tad striding through the classroom door. Gwil cried harder, holding his arms out. “Tad!”
Tad was at his side in an instant, wrapping Gwil up in his arms and making shushing noises into his hair. Gwil's arms wrapped around Tad's neck, clinging as hard as he could with no hands. He cried into his tad's shoulder, wiping his nose and tears on his nice suit. If this was what happened when he talked to aliens, he was never ever doing it again.
“What's wrong, Gwil?” Tad was maneuvering Gwil, trying to look at him even as Gwil continued to cling to his neck. “Does it hurt? Uncle Owen can give you more medicine.”
“My hands!” Ripping himself off his tad, Gwil shoved his bandaged hands in his tad's chest. “Are they gone? Are my fingers gone?”
Tad's eyes widened, mouth falling open as comprehension dawned on him. “No, no,” he hurried to reassure Gwil. “They're fine. All your fingers are there. Uncle Owen just had to put medicine on them. The bandages are there to make sure the medicine stays on your skin until you're all better.”
Gwil stared up at his tad, trying to sort if he was telling the truth or not. Tad's expression seemed calm, and sure of what he was saying. Slowly the tears stopped pouring out of Gwil, and he managed to bring his breathing under control. “Promise?”
Bending down, Tad pressed a kiss to Gwil's head, then wrapped him up in a tight hug. “Promise. Uncle Owen will take the bandages off tonight to reapply the medicine and you can see for yourself then.”
“There's my mini-hero!” Gwil peeked around his tad to see his dad gliding into the room, coat billowing out behind him. “How're you feeling?”
Sniffling one last time, Gwil pushed himself away from Tad, mustering a brave face. “Okay.”
Tad leaned into Dad as he came closer to the gurney. “He thought he had lost his fingers. With the bandages.”
Dad's face went sad for a moment, and his mouth opened and closed in a silent “oh”. Then he turned up his smile again, leaning in to ruffle Gwil's hair. Gwil rolled his eyes and automatically reached up to fix his hair, before remembering that he couldn't. He sighed and lowered his bandaged hand back to his lap. Dad grinned down at him. “Uncle Owen said you wanted to see the aliens before they left?”
Gwil nodded, sitting up straighter on his gurney. Tad was frowning slightly next to Dad, but Dad ignored him and turned to the door. “Hey, Mickey!” he shouted. “The little man's awake! Bring them in!”
A moment later Mickey strode in, shooting Jack a glare. “We've got comms! No need to shout it, Captain!” The aliens entered the room shortly behind him. They didn't walk: more like rolled. Their three legs stayed on the ground, and the silvery slime of their bodies seemed to undulate, sliding them across the ground. Gwil was reminded of videos of snakes he had scene on nature shows: moving across the ground without seeming like they could.
On top of the one on the right, sitting where its shoulder might be, was the little pet ball that had gotten so attached to Gwil. It vibrated happily as they got closer, slime undulating all over its surface as if over-eager to see Gwil again.
“We are sorry,” the one on the left started in its muddy, bloopy voice. “We didn't realize our surface was toxic to humans. We meant you no harm.”
Gwil nodded. “It's okay. I'm better now.” Uncle Owen and Auntie Tosh came in the door, Uncle Owen going straight to Gwil and checking him over. Gwil put up with his poking and prodding as he continued to talk to the aliens. “Is your ship all fixed?
“Yes. Thanks to your adults.”
Gwil reached a bandaged hand out and pointed as best he could at the ball. It emitted a muddy trill at the acknowledgment. “Is that your pet or a little one of you?”
The aliens paused, turning to each other as they conversed briefly in their native language. A moment later they turned back to Gwil, the one of the left speaking in English. “It would be a pet, yes. That is an accurate descriptor. He was very upset when you fell ill.”
Gwil peered up at Uncle Owen with big, blue eyes. “Can I pet it? So it knows I'm okay?”
Tad started forward, shaking his head as he glared at Uncle Owen. But Uncle Owen was rolling his eyes and digging around his medical kit, laughing at his tad. “Calm down, super-dad. At least he's not asking if he can keep it.”
Gwil's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that! But one look at his tad's I-am-not-amused expression told him that idea would go over just about as well as the time he had tried to fill the Hub's water with goldfish.
Myfanwy had eaten them.
Uncle Owen emerged from his medical kit, holding a plastic bag up triumphantly. “Aha! Here we go: hold out your hand, munchkin.” Obediently Gwil stuck out his hand, cocking his head in curiosity as Uncle Owen placed the bag inside-out over his hand. “I suppose I don't have to explain that you can only touch it with the bag part?”
Gwil nodded. He understood. Hand safely covered with the plastic bag, Gwil stretched his arm out. The alien glided closer, leaning far down from its impressive height so that its shoulder was level with Gwil. The little ball trilled in muddy, slimy excitement as Gwil stuck out his hand and stroked it front to back several times.
When he pulled away, Uncle Owen swooped in and carefully peeled the bag off Gwil's hand, turning it right-side-in as he did. He sealed it up and winked at Tad. “And now we've got samples to test, and you can add it to the file on the Licidians. Happy?”
With a perfectly straight face, Tad deadpanned: “Ecstatic.”
The alien with the pet on its shoulder straightened and glided away, rejoining its partner. “Goodbye, little human.”
Gwil waved his bandaged hand. “Bye. Bye hamster ball!” The pet pulsated on the alien's shoulder. With that, they turned to Auntie Toshiko, who led them outside.
Gwil turned to his tad. “They were nice.”
Tad frowned down at him, but it was Uncle Owen who replied. “Yeah, except for the almost-killing you part.”
“That was an accident!” Gwil pouted. “I'll just make sure I don't touch the next aliens I meet.”
“The next alien you meet?” Uncle Owen teased. “Uh-oh. You hear that, Tad? Looks like you're raising a future Torchwood agent.”
Gwil examined the way his tad's face went really frowny at that. Dad seemed less concerned, but he still smacked Owen on the arm and pointed down at Gwil. “Come on: let's get all this back to the SUV and head out. Gwen's still swamped with news reports she's been squashing all day.”
Owen nodded, prodding Gwil to lie down on the gurney as he wheeled him through the halls of the school and outside. As he watched the ceiling pass above him, Gwil pondered the day. If this was all there was to his dads' jobs, it wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd do it when he got big, too. He just wouldn't touch any aliens.
TBC Monday.
Gwil the Hero
And the panic of waking up and thinking his hands were gone! Poor thing.
Lovely chapter. Thanks!
Re: Gwil the Hero
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love the update!
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I love your Ianto in this. He's so calm and sure, but also pretty messed up, and that's really obvious when Gwil is threatened.
Gxxx
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aww...
Re: aww...
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(Anonymous) 2011-04-22 09:25 am (UTC)(link)But still a child, Gwil would rather have his dads deal with the aliens so he can get back to making Katie's Valentine day's card. So cute.
Please keep it coming. I am really enjoying this.
Elbria :)
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Glad you're still enjoying it!
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GLad you liked!
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Glad you liked it so far! Updates are Mondays and Thursdays, so see you then!
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THE GOLDFISH! No one else has mentioned the goldfish, and I love it so much!!!
Gwil looks like he's going to do his damndest to grow up to be the best Torchwood agent ever... Now it's more a question of how Ianto is going to deal with that ~.^
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Lovely chapter...everyone wants a ball of slime as a pet!:-D
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