Almost Perfect

by James Goss

  I got bored. I made them come here. I thought it’d be a change. And I just wanted to move among you. When Ross and Christine stole me, I went willingly. And the Rift’s made me so powerful. It’s been brilliant. Mending lives – you people are so broken. I’ve lived on worlds where people had far less, led simpler lives and were so much happier. But look at you – you’ve got warm, dry homes, food, shops with Lego. And you’re all miserable. I don’t want to go back.

  ‘I’m not sure you’ve got a choice,’ said Ianto.

  The machine sighed.

  ‘Can you do what I want you to?’

  Yes. There was a petulant note.

  ‘It’s asking a lot.’

  Trust me, it’ll be pretty spectacular. It’ll be like the Bonfire Night and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one.

  ‘I love a show, me.’

  Ianto climbed back inside, and strode down that horrifying corridor to the door. He could sense the entire house breathing around him.

  It’s not too late, you know. Would Jack do this? Ask yourself that.

  ‘I don’t care about that.’ He shook his head. ‘I am Ianto Jones and this is how I roll.’

  He straightened his skirt, reached for his gun and kicked open the door.

  IANTO IS CIVILISATION.

  END OF.

  ‘Oh come off it,’ snapped Brendan, clearly unimpressed by the gun. ‘You barge back in here in your little black dress and expect us to be amazed.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ianto.

  ‘Do you know what we can do?’ sneered Jon, stretching out an arm.

  Ianto suddenly smelt burning hair and shuddered.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I don’t care. I would like you to stop all this. And I would like Jack back.’

  An outraged shriek.

  ‘Oh, and Gwen too, please.’

  Brendan laughed. ‘We’re too late for this. Jon, honey, we’re getting old when we’re being menaced by a little girl with a gun. Just give us the machine, dear.’

  ‘We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,’ said Ianto, quietly.

  ‘Given the look of you, easy.’

  ‘Seriously. Last chance. Dismantle this room.’

  Jon shook his head, almost sadly. ‘We can’t. It’s the machine – it’s taking so much power. We have to feed it.’

  ‘And that’s always been the problem, hasn’t it?’ said Ianto. ‘All those years, all those believers – it’s all just fuel for that machine. You’ve become enslaved by it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Brendan quietly. ‘I suppose we have.’

  Jack started to laugh. ‘You told me you were gods. Well, now we know what gods worship.’

  ‘Yes,’ snapped Jon. ‘Perfection. And we had it when we had the device. Now look at it – we simply did this to try and make everything right. We were acting in the best interests.’

  ‘Even gods lie to themselves,’ said Jack sourly.

  Ianto spoke quietly. ‘I’ve talked to the machine.’

  Brendan marched towards him.

  ‘You’ve got it? You’ve got it on you? You silly bitch. You’re not leaving the room with it.’ He raised a glowing hand to strike Ianto.

  Ianto fired and Brendan fell back, whimpering.

  Ianto turned to Jon. ‘I’m sorry. Would you also like to come and have a go? Are you feeling lucky? I am. I have your god on my side.’

  He held up the device in its shiny plastic bag.

  ‘Don’t!’ shouted out both Jack and Brendan.

  ‘Ianto!’ continued Jack. ‘Don’t touch it – it knows you’re shutting down its power source. It will do anything it can to make you obey it. I don’t care what it’s offered you – it’s lying, trying to get its way.’

  ‘He’s right!’ barked Jon. ‘It’s the Lord of Lies. Why didn’t we see it?’

  ‘Because you were too busy looking in the mirror,’ snapped Jack.

  ‘Please,’ said Brendan. ‘Give us back the machine. Let us reset it. We can put everything right.’

  Ianto shook his head. ‘Nope, sorry. Made a deal. It told me how much power it needed. And that it had to come from somewhere. And I’m looking at you.’

  Brendan went to stand by Jon’s side. ‘You are kidding me.’

  ‘It giveth, and now, it tells me, it’s ready to taketh away.’

  ‘Wait!’ snapped Brendan.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Ianto, and pushed the button.

  And the world went white and changed a little.

  EMMA WEBSTER IS STARTING

  AFRESH

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’

  Emma snapped to and flashed the waiter an apologetic look. She’d been daydreaming again, or something. The last few days were a bit of a blur. Like she’d just been asleep or taken something. Or something. She couldn’t quite…

  ‘Sparkling water, please.’

  There. The waiter was gone. She had a couple more minutes to… it was like a memory that itched and itched and itched, but she just couldn’t find it to scratch it. Wonder what it is. Wonder. She traced her hands over the tablecloth, watching the pattern.

  Oddly, she couldn’t even remember how she’d got to the restaurant, or why she was here. Maybe she’d just been born, just now, right here, and this was it. The first day of the rest of her life.

  Only, she could clearly remember something really funny happening at work. She could remember Kate coming in, looking all fat, with her breast implants leaking during the management meeting. She’d cried and Emma had handed her a tissue. That had been funny. But she couldn’t remember anything else about work. Perhaps she should get a different job. Yeah. Something fun.

  Talking of fun, she was in a restaurant, she must be hungry. Mind you, better watch the figure. Only, actually, looking pretty damn good, Miss Webster. I think starter and a pudding. She looked at the menu. Good, she appeared to be in a fish restaurant. She ran her fingers down the starters and lingered over the squid. Something tickled her leg. She looked down, and there was a cat, making its slow way round the tables, greeting the diners. She stroked it, and it nuzzled her back, giving her a look. She laughed and, as she laughed, she caught sight of the man standing by her table. Woah. Epic boy totty.

  ‘Hi, is it Emma?’ he said.

  She stood up without falling over and said, ‘Yes’.

  But she wasn’t quite sure in what order. Hum. He had a really great face. You know, the kind of face that, if it didn’t belong to someone actually famous in Heat, definitely belonged to their boyfriend. It was a face that said confident, fun, shopping in New York, snowboarding and beach huts. He also looked pretty good in a suit. Really, just standing there staring now. Say something.

  ‘And you are?’ That was lame.

  He gave her a bit of an embarrassed grin. ‘I’m Patrick. Patrick Matthews.’ Suddenly he scratched the back of his head and frowned. ‘Sorry, like you care, too much detail. Just Patrick.’ He deepened the frown. ‘Never Pat.’

  ‘Never,’ she vowed. ‘And?’

  He looked a bit blank. ‘I’m, uh, well… My friend Ianto, she set this up. I’m your blind date.’

  ‘You are?’ What? ‘I mean, you are?’

  He looked around, sheepish and slightly angry. ‘Er, yeah. Complex story. Why, is something wrong?’

  Emma giggled and suddenly felt really, really good. ‘No, absolutely nothing. Sit down, and let’s order a bottle of wine.’

  He relaxed and suddenly looked even prettier. ‘This is nice. Really nice.’

  ‘Yes, yes it is.’ Emma got distracted by the menu again. And a sudden thought. Who the hell is Ianto? And since when was that a girl’s name?

  He peeped over her menu, grinning at her. ‘Red or white? Or shall we just get a bottle of pink fizz?’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, truly happy. ‘That’ll be perfect.’

  At a table in the corner, Gwen relaxed and turned to Rhys. ‘I think they’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘You remember the drill?’

  Rhys nodded solemnly.
‘At the first sign of him turning into a skeleton, I’m to let you know.’

  Gwen smiled approvingly. ‘Good boy. Now what happened to my bread roll?’

  Rhys brushed some crumbs off his jacket and shrugged. ‘I thought you were leaving it. Sorry.’

  Gwen decided she didn’t actually care. It was a nice, warm night, and it looked like she was going to get through an entire meal out with Rhys without explosions, deaths or Weevils. She even risked slipping off her heels and letting her feet breathe. ‘You know what?’ she said. ‘This place isn’t actually that bad.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Rhys, polishing off the last of her roll.

  And across town, Tombola’s was as empty as usual. Until, suddenly, twelve customers materialised out of thin air. And they were all as mad as hell.

  MADONNA IS A GAY ICON

  FOR BEGINNERS

  Jack looked round the nightclub, a little sadly.

  For a Saturday night, it was early, but still rather quiet. The bar staff sulked in a corner, polishing some glasses, texting, and generally ignoring him.

  He turned to Ianto. ‘It’s a bit sad, in a way, you know.’

  Ianto nodded gently. He had been working through a clipboard, ticking things off happily. He was now watching a Welsh digital channel on the flat-screen. ‘It’s true what they say, you know. You can never have enough about hill farming.’

  Jack finally got served, and he carried their drinks over to a table that was sticky with spilt pints.

  Ianto sipped his wine and grimaced. ‘This is vile.’ He ticked a box on the clipboard.

  ‘I did warn you to stick to spirits,’ said Jack. ‘The worst they can do is water them down.’ He sighed again, looking round the room. ‘Could you not have left it a little fabulous?’

  Ianto shook his head. ‘Sorry. No. Look, it was a fairly major operation getting the machine to untangle all those body parts and make everyone normal. Even so, there’s some poor kid in Barry who’s missing a finger.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Not our worst day. Memories?’

  Ianto nodded happily. ‘Completely wiped. Never had less trouble getting people to take Retcon. I just told them all it was E.’

  ‘You are going to hell, Ianto Jones.’

  ‘Yes, Jack. But I’ll still make a very pretty corpse.’

  ‘That you will. Although there’s some stubble showing.’

  Ianto nodded, beaming. ‘Oh yes. Last night as a woman according to the machine. Yay.’

  They clinked their glasses.

  ‘Gwen’s already arranged to pop round tomorrow and steal all my clothes.’

  ‘Good old Gwen.’

  ‘So what about them?’ Ianto gestured to a couple sitting quietly in a corner.

  They were old, almost impossibly so, shrivelled in their clothes, which hung raggedly off them, far too young and fashionable for them. Each was clutching a glass of water and looking at nothing in particular. One had the wispy remains of fine blond hair. The other sported a random thatch of dark hair. You could somehow tell they’d once been devastatingly attractive.

  Jack raised his glass to them, and they looked away.

  ‘Sad,’ he sighed. ‘Not everyone gets a happy ending.’

  ‘So is that it for the Perfection?’

  ‘Pretty much. Completely disconnected from whatever powers they had, pumped full of Retcon. Seemed the kindest thing, really. I mean, would you want to remember? So they’re now just mutton dressed as chicken.’

  Ianto sighed quietly. ‘They were gods once. They shaped worlds, ruled empires… and now they’re just growing old, trapped in Cardiff.’

  ‘As I said,’ said Jack, sipping his drink, ‘not everyone gets a happy ending.’

  They left the club when the Karaoke started. As they headed for the door, a drag queen tottered onto the stage and began a Cher medley. A lesbian couple joined in, brokenly. And a strange little man in a cap shuffled onto the dance floor and, entirely for his own happiness, began to do the Running Man dance.

  ‘All’s right with the world,’ sighed Jack as he sailed through the door.

  Jack and Ianto stood on Charles Street, watching the evening go by.

  A hen party staggered past, their progress impeded by the number of limbs that were in plaster. A voice screamed, ‘Come on, Kerry, you dozy tart. Zambuca’s not going to be 2 for 1 forever you know…’

  Ianto watched them go, smiling broadly. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go down the Bay. I’ve got a promise to keep.’

  And so they walked, in silence, until they came to a bridge overlooking a large amount of sea.

  Ianto handed a small, glowing bag to Jack. ‘Can you do this?’ he asked. ‘I’m not sure I trust myself. If I touch it again, I might ask it to do something.’

  ‘And you’re sure this is what it wants?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Yes. Just some peace. It’s bored too, I think.’

  ‘OK then,’ said Jack. And he reached into the bag and pulled out the machine, which glowed happily in his hand. For an instant, it seemed like Jack was listening to a voice.

  ‘Is it offering you anything?’ asked Ianto, anxiously.

  ‘Nope,’ said Jack. ‘Already perfect.’ And he tossed it casually into the Bay.

  It skimmed expertly across the waves, and then quietly vanished from sight.

  ‘Bon voyage,’ said Jack.

  And the two of them stood there for a while, just watching the water.

  ‘So,’ said Ianto finally, turning to Jack.

  ‘Yup,’ said Jack.

  Ianto leaned in, quietly. ‘I’m only a woman for one more night, you know.’

  Jack grinned broadly. ‘Then let’s make the most of it…’

  EPILOGUE: WHAT THE

  STRANGE ALIEN DEVICE

  ACTUALLY SAID TO CAPTAIN

  JACK

  Awwww, hello! This is brilliant.

  ‘I should have guessed it would be you.’

  Well, it is. Get used to it. I have. Anything you want to ask me?

  ‘Can you change that voice?’

  Well, I could, but nah. Not for you, Jack-Jack-Jacko.

  ‘He never called me that.’

  Not to your face. Now. Anything?

  ‘Well, why? You were supposed to help people.’

  Well, I tried. I guess I’m a meddler. I can’t help interfering, me. Making lives better. It’s what I do.

  ‘A lot of people died.’

  Don’t they always when we’re around? You and me, eh? It’s like old times.

  ‘It wasn’t worth the price.’

  Isn’t that what we always say to other people? We never say it to ourselves, do we?

  ‘Now you’re just messing with my head. I am pissed off, I am tired, and bits of me ache.’

  Yeah, well, surprised they’ve not dropped off.

  ‘You messed it up. As you always do.’

  Now we’re getting to the truth. You’ve still not forgiven me, have you?

  ‘Probably never will. Probably doesn’t matter. I do love you.’

  I’m sure you do. So…

  ‘Yes. What are we going to do with you?’

  Dunno. You’re the boss.

  ‘What do you want?’

  …

  ‘I said, what do you want?’

  You know, you are remarkable, Jack. No one has ever asked me what I wanted. Not in thousands of years. And it’s you. I’ll tell you – I’ve made everyone’s lives I’ve touched amazing. And I’ve never experienced ANY of it myself. I can’t get a good night’s sleep in a nice bed, eat a meal, lose weight, fall in love or get drunk. I have nothing. I just am. And I am bored and tired.

  ‘I know the feeling.’

  See? We do have some common ground. Isn’t that something?

  ‘And?’

  I would like a rest.

  ‘So would I, some day.’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The Perfection would like to thank Steve and Gary for the grand plan. They would also like to tha
nk Lee, Kate and Joe for advice, and Helen and Gillane for the castle. Finally, they would like to thank Brendan and Jon for the obvious.

  Also available from BBC Books

  TORCHWOOD

  TRACE MEMORY

  David Llewellyn

  ISBN 978 1 84607 438 7

  UK £6.99 US$11.99/$14.99 CDN

  Tiger Bay, Cardiff, 1953. A mysterious crate is brought into the docks on a Scandinavian cargo ship. Its destination: the Torchwood Institute. As the crate is offloaded by a group of local dockers, it explodes, killing all but one of them, a young Butetown lad called Michael Bellini.

  Fifty-five years later, a radioactive source somewhere inside the Hub leads Torchwood to discover the same Michael Bellini, still young and dressed in his 1950s clothes, cowering in the vaults. They soon realise that each has encountered Michael before – as a child in Osaka, as a junior doctor, as a young police constable, as a new recruit to Torchwood One. But it’s Jack who remembers him best of all.

  Michael’s involuntary time-travelling has something to do with a radiation-charged relic held inside the crate. And the Men in Bowler Hats are coming to get it back.

  Featuring Captain Jack Harkness as played by John Barrowman, with Gwen Cooper, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato and Ianto Jones as played by Eve Myles, Burn Gorman, Naoki Mori and Gareth David-Lloyd, in the hit series created by Russell T Davies for BBC Television.

  Also available from BBC Books

  TORCHWOOD

  THE TWILIGHT STREETS

  Gary Russell

  ISBN 978 1 846 07439 4

  UK £6.99 US$11.99/$14.99 CDN

  There’s a part of the city that no one much goes to, a collection of rundown old houses and gloomy streets. No one stays there long, and no one can explain why – something’s not quite right there.

  Now the Council is renovating the district, and a new company is overseeing the work. There will be street parties and events to show off the newly gentrified neighbourhood: clowns and face-painters for the kids, magicians for the adults – the street entertainers of Cardiff, out in force.

  None of this is Torchwood’s problem. Until Toshiko recognises the sponsor of the street parties: Bilis Manger.