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When Love Walked In
by PineTranio
PROLOGUE
It was dark that night; the cold, ever-present Cardiff rain fell down steadily onto the empty black
streets of the wealthy neighborhood. The lamplights did little to illuminate the affluence, not that
the few occupants outside cared about the view. Their thoughts centered around, “Run!” and
“Faster!” and “I should have worn better shoes.”
Said shoes, brown lace-ups with moderate traction on the soles, were pounding into the
pavement as their owner chased after another man only a few meters ahead of him. He was
gaining on his target; the large, awkward parcel in the other’s arms no doubt slowed down his
progress. They had been running through the winding roads of the gated community for nearly
ten minutes, cutting across slick grass and hopping over the boots of cars.
“Don’t trip, Harper,” he told himself. “If you lose him, Harkness will kill you. Bloody
Harkness!”
Owen Harper grumbled as he breathed heavily. “Where the hell is he anyway?” They had been
tracking this guy for weeks now. Already, he had made off with several alien items and Captain
Jack Harkness was not pleased. Owen tapped the silver device in his ear. “Come on, Captain.
You going to let me have all the fun? Get yer arse out here!”
Nothing.
“Jack! Where the fuck are you? Suzie?” he called for Torchwood’s second-in-command. “Is
anyone there?”
“I’m here, Owen.” came a female voice.
“Great. Is there anyone there who can bloody well do something?” he asked Toshiko Sato, who
was currently monitoring the group from the safety of the Hub, miles away. “I can get this guy,
but backup would be nice!”
“I can’t get a hold of Jack. Last contact, he said Suzie was down and the owner was locked in a
panic room.”
Another growl from the medic. His anger fueling him, he put on a burst of speed. “Keep trying,
Tosh. Give him my location and tell him to get the car. I’m ending this now!”
“Be careful Owen. We don’t know what he stole.”
“I’m soaked. I’m tired and the only thing I care about right now is not breaking my pretty little
neck. Fucking rain! Fucking Cardiff!”
As Owen stumbled off a kerb, his soaked shoes heavy with water, he saw the thief just ahead of
him have a similar problem. The man tripped over his sodden trainers, landing on his knees in
the mud. His large, stolen parcel fell to the earth with a splat. Owen saw the thief scramble to it,
pull something from his coat pocket and lift the thick covering off the object. From his vantage
Owen still couldn’t tell what it was, but that the thief was frantically attacking an area of it. A
sick, tight crack resounded over the raindrops. Why was he destroying what he took in the first
place? Owen wondered as he arrived behind the man.
“Don’t even try it,” Owen warned evenly, pulling his gun from the small of his back.
The thief, his stolen prize still in his hands, slowly stood and turned to face Owen.
“Drop it to the ground, nice and easy,” ordered Owen.
The thief did not comply. He just stood there, his eyes darting all around him, looking for a way
of escape. They were still alone, but if the thief had a weapon he would have to relinquish his
parcel.
“Give it up, mate. Put it on the ground or I will shoot you where you stand.” Owen cocked back
the hammer. The thief’s dark eyes widened slightly and before Owen could react, the man hefted
the object into the air.
“Fuck!” Owen ran forward to catch it. The last thing he needed was for something alien to break
and blow things up on his watch. The object fell into his waiting arms, Owen grunting with the
weight of it, and the thick covering, some sort of canvas material, fluttered to his feet. Quickly,
he looked up and saw the thief disappearing behind a cluster of trees some distance away.
Cursing under his breath, he called out to his teammates through their comms. “Tosh, I lost him.”
“Do you have it?”
What happened to the concern? he begrudgingly thought. Owen lifted his catch to his face to
finally have a look at it. A painting, was it? But, it wasn’t like any sort of painting he’d ever
seen. It wasn’t even paint under the glass.
Frowning, he turned to head back towards the pavement. “I have it, but I can’t tell- Shit!” His
shoes caught the canvas and he was falling. He tried to prepare himself for the impact of
smashing into glass, but it never came. Instead, he landed, face first, onto a solid surface.
Owen blinked his brown eyes and took several deep breaths. He twitched his fingers, his
shoulders and then his legs. Nothing broken, just sore, very sore. He lifted his head slowly. There
was no glass scattered around him, no wet grass under his hands, no lamplight, no houses!
Gingerly Owen moved his bruised body to its feet. The sun was out. Why was the sun out?
Beneath his feet lay a white stone path that led to an open gateway in front of him. Beyond he
could see many people and buildings; it looked vaguely familiar.
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed when he realized what he was seeing. He stepped backwards
quickly, very confused. What was going on? And then he thought, fearfully; where was that alien
parcel he had been holding?
CHAPTER ONE
“Alien artwork? You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Susie Costello, as she glanced over at
Torchwood’s genius technician, Toshiko Sato.
“I don’t know what else to call it,” she confessed, typing on her computer. “You saw it for
yourself. The images move! They completely change shape, color, and even style. It’s either
alien or from the future, but Jack thinks it’s from another planet.”
“I didn’t see much before Jack grabbed it and covered it up. It looked like a sophisticated screen
saver if you ask me.”
“This is more complicated than that, Susie. That thing, whatever it is, took Owen!”
Susie snorted at this. It had to be one of the most ridiculous specimens she had encountered since
joining Torchwood. “From the CCTV,” Susie pointed to the footage on Toshiko’s computer, “it
doesn’t look like he was snatched. One moment he was there, holding it and then the idiot fell
into it.”
“He could be dead, Susie! Don’t you care?”
“Of course, I care. But I can’t wrap my mind around this.”
“Think Alice and the Looking-Glass,” a voice said from behind her.
Susie jumped in surprise and turned to face her Captain. “Christ, Jack! I didn’t hear you come
over.”
Captain Jack Harkness flashed a grin at her. “I’m stealthy. So, it seems we have some sort of
artistic porthole and it’s been under our noses for the last ten years or so.”
“Is that how long the owner of the house said he’s had it?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, right before all hell broke loose and he locked himself in a panic room. But
I don’t completely believe him. Geoffrey Dear has been on Torchwood’s list of ‘persons of
interest’ since the 80s. He’s never caused a problem, but he or one of his assistants has been
spotted at a few underground, shall we say, specialty auctions.”
Tosh turned to face her boss. “And we’ve never stopped him from purchasing items before?”
Jack shrugged. “He didn’t buy anything dangerous. Well, we didn’t think he did. And I’m not
Yvonne Hartman. I wonder if Mr. Dear knows exactly what this painting is capable of?”
“I wonder if we do.” Tosh mumbled.
Slapping his hands together loudly Jack began to divulge his plan of action. “Alright ladies, lots
to get done. Susie, go round to Dear’s manse and have a chat with him.”
“Think he’s out of his coward room?” Susie asked snidely.
“It has a time lock feature on it. Should open up in,” Jack fiddled with the buttons on his wrist
strap, a mischievous look on his face as he overrode Mr. Dear’s programming, “an hour. Find out
if he has any background on this artwork, and find out who got it for him. Even black market
dealers have purchase of sales receipts. See if you can’t get him to show you more of his
collection while you’re at it. If need be, we’ll do a complete sweep whether he likes it or not.
There’s Retcon in the med bay. Make sure he gets it before you leave.” Susie rushed off to get
the amnesia pills. “Tosh, we need to run some tests on this painting, find out where it’s from,
find out what that guy scratched off it before he ran off. Grab your scanner and meet me in the
cells.”
“But, Jack, we can’t expose this to testing! What about Owen? What if something happens to
him or to the painting during the scans?”
“No choice, Tosh. Unless you think a blanket search through the database of ‘Alien Art’ is going
to help, we have to examine it.” Jack turned away, but quickly added with a smirk, “And don’t
try it. You’d be amazed what some species consider art!”
Tosh sighed, knowing her Captain was right. They had no idea what the painting was or where it
originated. Opening her desk drawer, she removed her trusty hand scanner. It wasn’t invasive,
but she didn’t think she could garner much information from it either. But, it was all she had for
the moment. First things first, she wanted to know what it was made of.
When she arrived in the cells, Jack was waiting for her with the painting set up on a table,
leaning against the wall. The covering was folded up beside it.
“Why have you brought it down here?” Tosh asked as she readied her scanner.
“Worst case scenario. This way, if anything catastrophic occurs, it will be deep underground and
hopefully wouldn’t impact the population.”
“Except for us,” she murmured.
“Part of the job, Tosh. You knew that when you joined.” Tosh merely nodded her head. “So,”
Jack began, “I have good news and bad news.” Tosh waited for Jack to choose which to deliver
first. “I think I have an idea what that thief took from the frame.” Jack gestured to the bottom of
it, where, at the center, was a circular gouge, marring the bright gold frame.
“So, what is the bad news?”
Jack reached into his pocket and took out a five pence piece. He turned it over in front of Tosh’s
eyes. “One ordinary coin.” He stepped back and threw it at the picture. Tosh instinctively ducked
away from the impending impact. But nothing happened. She turned to Jack; his expression was
blank. Hesitantly, she took a step towards the painting. As she reached out to touch the surface,
Jack clamped his hand tightly around her wrist.
“Don’t,” he warned. He released her hand and stepped back once more, his eyes back on the
moving images.
“It’s open,” Tosh said. “It’s still open. But, the glass-”
“Obviously, not your average, tempered glass. Whatever was at the bottom there must have
stabilized the portal. When we were at the mansion we all touched the glass and none of us fell
through.”
“Does it go both ways?” Jack let out a loud laugh at that. Tosh blushed at her unintended
innuendo. “I mean if things from here can enter the painting, can things from the painting enter
here?”
“I suppose that would depend on if anything is alive in there. Besides Owen, that is.”
“If he’s still alive.”
“We’re getting him back, Tosh. I’d go in right now if I thought it would help, but it won’t, not
yet. We need more information. Now, I know you’ve seen some strange things since being here,
but why would aliens create a portal to somewhere just to have it kill what’s inside? There are
much easier ways to get that done. My guess is that it’s a prison or containment space. The best
thing we can do for him is to start these scans. How about base materials scan first? Check this
covering. It seems ordinary enough, but we never know.”
Tosh ran her scanner slowly along the edge of the material. “Did it come from Mr. Dear’s
mansion?”
“Couldn’t say. I was a bit preoccupied.” When the tech finally got hold of him on the comms, he
had only recently revived from a broken neck. Of course, he didn’t say that. He said that both he
and Susie had been knocked unconscious for a few minutes. And since that indeed did happen to
Susie, no one was there to witness his death or his resurrection.

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