Echoes

Series: Mosaic

Word Count: ~ 37.000

Summary: There's a haunted mansion calling for Torchwood's attention. The echoes are starting to manifest themselves into our time, which can only mean danger for the entire planet. For the Torchwood team, this mission is special – after all, the haunted mansion is Torchwood House. The team takes a trip to Scotland where Jack and Ianto finally find the opportunity to start to repair the damage done to their relationship, while Tosh tries to find herself after what happened with Mary.

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Doctor (Ten), Rose Tyler, Queen Victoria, Archie, Rhys Williams, OCs

Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Owen/Gwen, Gwen/Rhys, Jack/OC (hinted), Jack/Doctor (hinted), Jack/Rose (hinted), Tosh/Owen (unrequited), Tosh/Mary (hinted)

Rating: R

Spoiler: Countrycide, Greeks Bearing Gifts, Fragments / Doctor Who: Tooth And Claw

Setting: after Greeks Bearing Gifts

Warnings: Torture, partner betrayal, language

Contains: Sex

Author's Note: This is the sequel to The Golden Boy and has several references to other parts of the series. It's not necessary to have read them, though. In part inspired by Torchwood Archives and Ianto's Desktop.

Beta: danian beta'ed the English version and Inja Morgan the German one. Thanks a lot!

Disclaimer: I'm not making money with this fanfic. The tv-shows Doctor Who and Torchwood and the characters appearing within them belong to their producers and creators. Any similarities to living or dead persons are purely coincidental and not intended.

Clyde Muirshiel Regional Park and Lochwinnoch are real places in Scotland.

xxx

Prologue

The former manor was a ruin in the middle of the hills and sharp cliffs of Clyde Muirshiel Regional Park. Surely it had been beautiful back when it had been built, when there had still been people visiting the proud and, without a doubt, wealthy inhabitants.

Jemma stepped through the lithic archway onto the forecourt of the manor. In its middle, a pedestal was all that was left of a statue – maybe the stony twin of an ancestor, or a religious symbol, maybe a crest or a simple piece of art. Whatever it had been, time, thieves or the weather had taken it away. Ivy was embracing the pedestal and a few lonely flowers littered the ground. The house itself towered over the forecourt. There had been several floors, but the roof had caved in more than one place, stooping the building as if it was an old man who'd had a long, tiring life. The windows were destroyed – black holes in the walls, mostly nailed up with boards. The highest tower must have been topped by a glass dome … all that was left was a skeleton of wooden support beams. All of it proof of Thomas's story about the big fire destroying the building in the 1920s.

Jemma shivered and crossed her arms. It was just a house, but still, it seemed threatening somehow. As if nobody was allowed inside. Jemma didn't want to be here anymore, but they'd walked out here all the way from Lochwinnoch and she didn't want to be the only one telling Thomas that he should rethink his idea of a fun party for his 17th birthday.

As if he'd read her thoughts Thomas stopped next to her and said, "Looks haunted." He winked at her, his blue eyes twinkling joyfully, as if he was looking forward to meeting a ghost.

Emilia stopped on Jemma's other side, her hands clutching the straps of her rucksack. She'd been complaining about the weight of the camping equipment for the past hour. Unfortunately, asking their parents for a lift had been out of the question: this area was officially very much forbidden. One reason more for Thomas to want to celebrate his birthday here with his two best friends: nobody would bother them. Jemma shivered again.

Emilia tucked her sandy hair behind her ears and nudged Jemma playfully. "Oh, this is so cool. I bet it's totally haunted."

"That's why we're here," Thomas said with a wide grin.

Jemma loved her friends, she really did. But right this moment, she wanted to kill them. Sure, they had all decided in favour of the haunted house when they'd talked about what to do this weekend, but that didn't help at all. Jemma didn't like ghost stories. They scared her. This manor scared her. "Do we have to sleep here?" she asked.

Emilia rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jemma. Live a little."

With Thomas, she headed for the big double door leading into the house, which looked like it could barely hold itself up. Jemma followed them hesitantly. Ignoring the sign that warned visitors from trespassing, Thomas rattled the door. He slammed his bodyweight against it and almost fell inside when it shifted. It squeaked loudly in its hinges, showing them the first glance at the dark interior. The boards in front of the windows didn't allow for much light inside. A strip of the evening sun fell through the front door, though, and showed them a dusty, slightly charred carpet that might have been red once, but by now was mostly grey from dirt. Thomas switched on his torch and went inside. Emilia followed him immediately. Jemma preferred to soak up a bit more of the warmth of the setting sun. Her friends' torches showed her a stairwell leading upstairs. There were several doors leading on to other rooms located around the reception hall. Jemma glanced at the forecourt behind her and sighed reluctantly. Next to the door, almost hidden by grass and a bush, was a sign made from stone. Jemma swished aside the grass with her foot to be able to read it. Two words were carved into the material:

Torchwood House

For just a second, she thought about returning to Lochwinnoch. Her mom would warm her up dinner and she could watch some telly.

Emilia's voice cam from inside, "Jemma, what are you waiting for?"

She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and entered Torchwood House.

xxx

The fire had been disastrous, no room had been left untouched by it. On some walls, they could still see the outlines of pictures or furniture, showing them that some things seemed to have survived the flames and had been carried away. Furniture that had been destroyed beyond repair was still standing around. Mostly shelves: charred and empty. Since there were no ashes on them to indicate that the books within had been destroyed, there was a possibility that they had survived the fire. Or maybe somebody had stolen them and then burned the house down, like Thomas was suggesting from time to time with a wide grin on his freckled face. "He locked the family in the basement and there, they died." He grinned at Jemma. "Maybe we'll see their ghosts tonight."

"Stop it!" she said, huddling underneath her sleeping bag. "I don't want to hear that."

By now it was dark outside. They were sitting around their torches on the matted carpet in front of the fireplace in the living room – or salon, as Emilia insisted on calling it. They'd set up a tent, even though they were inside. Apparently Thomas was willing to put up with ghosts, but not with rain leaking inside. Aside from a few shelves, the room was empty. The curtains were ripped and barely covered the boarded windows. The wind was howling around the house, but other than that, it was deathly quiet.

Until Emilia rustled with the crisp pack. "I'm bored," she said. "I can't believe I'm missing Grey's Anatomy for this. I thought it would be way more interesting."

"It's not midnight yet," Thomas answered.

Jemma said, "I want to leave."

Thomas sighed, irritated. "Why? Nothing's happening."

"The house is creepy."

"That's why we're here."

Jemma stared at Thomas pleadingly. His face softened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Emilia interrupted him with a choked noise. Thomas and Jemma turned to look at her. Emilia was staring towards the windows, her green eyes wide in disbelief. Jemma didn't want to look. She didn't want to know what exactly had put that expression on Emilia's face. It couldn't be good. Her heart hammered in her chest, when she slowly turned her head. She had to know, though. No matter if it was a man without head or a Bloody Baron like in Harry Potter – she had to see it.

Reality was almost disappointing, but Jemma nevertheless clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a startled shout. Because the young woman in the clothes of a maidservant just couldn't really stand there and clean the broken windows. Jemma blinked and the woman vanished.

Thomas asked, "Did you see that?"

Jemma couldn't help but feel a slightly spiteful glee because of his panicky voice. But her fear was bigger than her mischief. She got up. "I'm out of here," she said, picking up her rucksack. She didn't waste time by packing her sleeping bag, keeping it wrapped around her shoulders. The tent was hers, but as far as she was concerned, the maid could have it. Relieved, she saw Thomas and Emilia picking up their backpacks as well. All three of them shuffled towards the door, carrying their backpacks and torches and wrapped in their sleeping bags. They stopped in the reception hall, confronted with a whole group of maids.

Emilia whispered, "Oh, God." Her hand wrapped around Jemma's arm. Jemma barely noticed, she was fascinated. The young women didn't seem to see them; they were standing in a circle, whispering and giggling, until an older maidservant entered and shooed them away. Then they vanished as if they had never been there.

"They ..." Jemma swallowed. "They don't even know we're here."

Suddenly, Thomas pointed towards the upper end of the stairwell. "Look," he whispered.

There, overlooking the reception hall, stood … something.

Jemma flinched and Emilia cried out and pressed her face against Jemma's shoulder, trying to hide from the monster.

Thomas had gone pale. "What is that? Oh, God, what is that?"

As far as Jemma was concerned, it looked like a wolf, even though it was walking on two legs and seemed a bit bigger and more athletic than a common wolf. It descended the stairs, ignoring them completely. It had to be a ghost.

Jemma couldn't move. She heard somebody whimper softly and realized that it was Emilia. Thomas seemed to scrape together all his courage and put his arms around them. "It can't see us," he whispered soothingly. "It can't see us. It's just a ghost."

The wolf reached the end of the stairwell and sniffed the air as if it was looking for someone. Thomas was right, it was just a ghost like the maidservants. That didn't keep Jemma from trembling fearfully – hard enough to lose her grip on her torch that clattered onto the floor.

And the wolf turned its head in their direction and stared at them.