A Sneaking Suspicion

[DON BRENNAN]

Just because someone is not military does not mean that they aren't aware of military principles. Don, as a civilian contractor to the military, was living proof of that. Right now, trapped in a completely unknown place, possibly another world, with a high chance that there might be an enemy near by, most civilians would panic and try to put as much distance between themselves and the enemy as possible. Don, on the other hand, was taking his time.

To most people, it would look as though Don simply didn't care where he was going or, possibly, that he was in a bad way. To a military mind, though, Don was showing a surprising aptitude for SERE, or Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. While not up to the standards of most members of the military, Don was nevertheless doing very well. His path was irregular, zigzagging as much as possible. He might spend ten minutes zagging, and then zig for only a minute before zagging again. Sometimes he would avoid denser areas of the forest, skirting right around them, and sometimes he would go part way through them and change his course again. It was slow going but, in taking these precautions, Don was making it hard for any enemy to track him.

An outside observer would also notice that Don held a baseball cap in his left hand. It would probably have been better for him if he wore it, being less likely to snag on something, but there was a good reason as to why he didn't wear it. Simply put, the cap contained the equivalent of military grade EMP shielding. It was capable of preventing both demons or angels from taking control of a person's mind or using them as the source for a portal, but it would also prevent one of the sensitives in the military's employ from contacting him. Of course, it had been an hour or two since he had been snatched, so it was possible that they simply couldn't reach him.

Not for the first time, Don looked at his watch and wondered why it had stopped working. The physics that made an object work in each universe had so carried over into the other universe. Perhaps this place was just too far removed, or maybe the scientists were wrong and the physics didn't always carry over. It wouldn't be the first time.

As Don walked, he weighted up the various options he had in regards to his cap and decided that, unless he discovered creatures with similar powers to the angels and demons, he would not wear the hat. He had been, up to this point, assuming that someone had seen his vanish, but it now occurred to him that it was possible his disappearance had gone unnoticed. If that was the case, it could be up to two days before any tried to contact him. With that in mind, he subconsciously tightened his grip on the cap and began to zag.

[IANTO JONES]

"Brilliant," Ianto muttered to himself as he cast a begrudging glance at the trees around him. True, life at Torchwood had prepared him to expect all sorts of strange and unexpected encounters, but so far none of those had involved being transported out of the Hub and into the middle of some strange forest.

He'd been minding his own business; making himself a cup of coffee after a long day of chasing down a strange parasitic alien that in the end had seemed determined to attach itself to Owen and drain him of all those nice healthy fluids that humans usually required to go about their daily lives. Everyone else had gone home, calling it an early night - well early as far as Torchwood was concerned lately. Some might consider 9:00 a bit of a late work night, but ever since Jack had left, they found themselves staying later and later trying to pick up the extra work. He didn't allow himself to dwell on the Captain's absence long: thinking about it wouldn't make the truth any less real, and the simple truth was that Jack had left them. If the missing hand had been any indication, he didn't seem likely to come back either.

He spared a sidelong glance at the empty office upstairs, pressing the mug to his lips only to realize that he wasn't in the hub anymore. In fact, looking around him, he doubted very much he was even in Cardiff anymore. He'd dropped the mug, a shame in retrospect - he'd been rather fond of that mug and the coffee inside it for that matter-, and drew his gun almost immediately, his body alert at the possibility of a threat.

It had been a little under an hour since then and his initial questions were still left unanswered. What was going on? What had brought him here? For what purpose? And most important of all: where in the hell was here? He supposed he'd just have to push those to the back of his mind and settle on finding some way out of the woods and towards civilization. As if in response, he thought he could hear the telltale sounds of another creature up ahead. He tightened his grip on his gun, taking a breath to steal himself for whatever alien threat might be up ahead. Instinctively his hand went for the bluetooth at his ear. There was nothing on the other end, not even static: just the same nothing he would have heard if he hadn't been wearing it. "Because that would have been helpful," he murmured dully to himself.

Regardless he would still have to face what was up there, even if he was very much on his own. He could handle this: he was a field agent now and what better way to test his skills than a solo mission he hadn't agreed to that could potentially end his life? Right, he thought to himself, what could possibly go wrong here? Nodding to himself, he stepped out with his gun held before him. "Oi!" he shouted, stopping as he saw that the creature that stood before him wasn't a creature at all: it was a human. At least it looked human. It was a man, older probably 50s if he had to hazard a guess, clutching what appeared to be a baseball cap. He lowered his gun slowly. "Ah, yes. . .you, would you be able to tell me where I am now? I got a bit turned around in the woods," he said quickly, a strained smile stretching across his face.

[DON BRENNAN]

Don paused mid step and listened. Was it just his imagination or was there someone else in the woods with him? He carefully lowered his leg and strained his ears to listen. A twig snapped, some leaves rustled, a bird took flight. Yes, there was something out there, and it was heading his way, but what was it, and what options did he have? It was close, he wouldn't have been able to hear it otherwise, and as far as he could tell it wasn't trying for stealth. Of course, it could be and was just very bad at stalking, but that was beside the point. In any case, it was close enough that any attempt to hide would be useless and would suggest that he was panicking. As a result, Don presented a bored, apathetic face when his stalker suddenly revealed himself and pointed a gun in his face.

Truth be told, Don was actually quite relieved to have a gun pointed at his face. It was a Colt M1911 derivative and that meant that he was on Earth, unless a serious of extremely unlikely coincidences had happened and he was in a bubble world that had also created an M1911. Curious about this, Don ran a lazy eye over the new arrival as he lowered the pistol and adopted an apologetic look. He was dressed like an office worker, with a suit and tie, spoke as though he came from the UK (Don couldn't pin down the accent down exactly) and yet carried a handgun. Either he was a very peculiar detective or he didn't live in the UK. Still, all of this pointed to the fact that Don was, in fact, on Earth.

Of course, this raised other questions, such as why the portal that had transported him back to Earth hadn't been picked up, and the fact that it had seemingly formed of its own free will. Still, it might be the interdimensional equivalent of a storm for all Don knew. That was the problem with portals. It was going to take decades before anyone even worked out the basic theory behind them rather than just acknowledging that you used a sensitive to open them and pumped power into it in order to keep it open.

"Ah, yes. . .you, would you be able to tell me where I am now? I got a bit turned around in the woods."

With a barely perceptible shrug, Don replied in his typical lacklustre, monotonal manner.

"I'm probably more lost than you. Which country is this?"

[IANTO JONES]

The most surprising thing about the man who he had just very nearly shot was that he seemed so very, for lack of a better term, unsurprised about the whole thing. The casual indifference with which he looked at him suggested boredom as opposed to any real fear at having a fire arm aimed at his head. True, he'd had enough dangerous objects/creatures aimed at his person for the "excitement" to have worn off a bit, but he could still manage the occasional eye roll or momentary panic attack. His grip tightened on his gun even as he lowered it. Past experience had taught him that while it was humans he protected, they could be the biggest monsters of all.

Of course it was entirely possible he was just being excessively paranoid. Just because he dealt with anything from weevils to cannibals to nutters bent on setting free great big shadowy aliens on a regular basis didn't mean the the first person he'd run into after being transported here was the one responsible for this. Of course, that didn't make him automatically innocent either. He mentally shook himself to bring his attention back to said person.

His stomach sank unpleasantly at the answer he received from the American, if the accent was any indication. He didn't even know what country this was. He supposed technically neither did he. He had been hoping for something nice and simple: 'oh yes, you've ended up in Sussex, don't worry we'll get you a plane back to Cardiff.' His lip turned down in a frown. "I'm not entirely certain myself," he said. "I think we can rule out Wales, though. It's much to sunny here." The last bit was said with a tight smile. There were other reasons he believed this wasn't Wales. It was too unlikely that The Rift would just drop him back off there right away for starters.

"You didn't. . " he began reluctantly. "I mean were you somewhere else just now and then suddenly here?" he found himself asking.