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Torchwood: Polymorph	By : MrCepheid Category: S through Z > Torchwood Views: 1054 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or Red Dwarf, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Torchwood: Polymorph
- 1
Torchwood
Polymorph
by MrCepheid

Ianto ran through the dark, unwashed corridors that made up the less savoury parts of - and majority of - the Torchwood 3 base, smacking every alarm button as he went and muttering “It’s loose, it’s loose.” Bathed in red light and deafened by sirens, he dashed up into the Hub, where Tosh, Owen and Gwen were busy trying to switch off the alarms. From the still-full mugs at the desk of each team member, Ianto could guess that Gwen had been trying to make the coffee again.

Jack ran up to him, his face a mixture of confusion and excitement. Excitement at the prospect of some siren-related action, and confusion as to the nature of it. Ianto simply grabbed him by the lapels of his greatcoat and yelled “It’s loose! It’s loose, Jack!”

Jack yelled, “What is?” The alarms shut off, and Ianto could hear himself think again.

“The Polymorph!” he said, breathlessly, “The Polymorph got out of its cell!”

Now, Jack was a big man. Ianto knew this for certain. He was also, generally, the strong, glib type when it came to danger. Faced by nine foot tall Lobster-People from the Crimson Nebula, he would usually make some wisecrack about butter and very large pots of boiling water, before dispatching them in an ingenious and unlikely manner. He had laughed in the face of danger, giggled at the prospect of death, and sniggered at the dress-sense of terror.

This time, he said, “Oh nuts.”

---

”What the bloody hell is a Polymorph?” Gwen demanded, as the team stripped the armoury of anything that still worked.

Jack, who was oiling his pistol – now then, now then – looked up and replied, “It’s the ninth most dangerous being in the Universe.” He inclined his head slightly toward Ianto, who took over.

“A shapechanger capable of sucking the dominant emotion out of anyone… or anything.”

“No. Not out of any thing. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Okay, out of anyone… anywhere.”

“Better.”

“Alright, Laurel and Hardy,” said Owen, impatiently. Ianto excused himself and ran off to fetch extra ammunition. “How do we kill it?”

“Killing it isn’t the problem,” said Jack, flicking the safety off on his Webley. “Finding it is.”

Ianto walked back in, and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “With you leading us, I know we can do it,” he said, his voice dripping with admiration. “One Polymorph against Captain Jack Harkness? Come on, boss. No contest.”

Tosh smiled. “You’re right, Ianto,” she said, “There’s nothing we can’t face-”

“Except for bunnies,” said Owen, gravely. There was a brief silence.

“Right,” said Jack, before turning to Ianto. “You’re right, Ianto. I guess I was being paranoid earlier… Polymorphs are dangerous, but I’m feeling pretty damn confident now. I’m almost overflowing with confidence. Let’s go save the world.”

“Rrarghjawrgh,” said Ianto.

“Sorry?”

“Rrarghjawrgh,” Ianto repeated, and his head split open to reveal a disgusting slimy mass of tentacles. A larger tentacle snaked out and clamped onto Jack’s forehead with a noise like a favourite boot being swallowed by Yorkshire mud. There was a sucking noise for a second as everyone raised their weapons, and then the Polymorph was gone, hopping out of the armoury in the form of an adorable bunny-rabbit.

Owen sighed. “Bunnies.”

Tosh crouched next to the inert Jack, and checked his pulse. “He’s alive,” she said, with relief.

“I guess the Polymorph must have taken Ianto’s form,” Gwen added.

“Nice guess, bitch,” said Ianto, walking into the armoury with a cup of coffee in his hand. He took a sip, grimaced, and threw the enamel mug at a wall, where it shattered loudly. “This coffee is vile. What’s the point of you, Cooper?”

“Oh, wonderful,” said Owen, “The bloody Xenomorph sucked out all of Little Red UNIT Cap’s pussyness.”

Ianto belched loudly, and stuck his middle finger up at Owen. “That’s what I think of your theory, monkeyface,” he replied, and then grinned widely at Owen’s expression. “Oh yeah. I went there.”

“It’s his guilt,” said Tosh, quietly, “It sucked out all his guilt.” Ianto turned to glare at her. “I’m sorry, but when I had the amulet I could read what you were… sorry.” At this, Jack groaned and sat up.

“My head hurts,” he mumbled, and then jumped up. “What if it’s a concussion? Or a tumour?” He placed his hands over his face and wept. “I want to liiiive.” Owen went over to him to check his head, while Ianto sat on a crate of grenades and began to compose a poem about Gwen’s grooming habits.

“You’re fine, Jack,” said Owen, “All that’s happened is the Polymorph has-”

“Oh, of course,” Jack replied, his voice cracking. “How ghastly. We’re all doomed, Owen. Sweet, loyal Owen. Dooooomed.”

“What’s up with Captain Slack Arseness?” asked Ianto, as he ran out of rhymes for “whine” and Gwen had started flicking her pistol’s safety on and off impatiently.

“Ianty!” said Jack, realising Ianto was there and falling at his feet before wrapping his arms around the Welshman’s legs, “Darling Ianty, did the alien get you too?” He began to cry a little bit more, “Poor Ianto.”

“All his confidence is gone,” said Gwen, as the penny dropped.

“Uh huh?” said Owen, “Ya think?” He turned to Ianto, “Who’s gonna go on top now, eh?”

“Owen, that’s not helping,” said Tosh, who was busy fiddling with a handheld scanner.

“No, seriously, Dr Zaius makes a good point,” said Ianto, scratching Jack’s head like a dog. “What are you up to anyway, Slutmuffin?”

Tosh held the scanner aloft. “I’ve managed to reconfigure this to detect the Polymorph,” she said, with a hint of gentle pride. “It’s not perfect, we have to rely on how frequently it’s beeping. Still, it’s a start.”

“Well done, Tosh,” said Gwen, “We need to find this thing and plug it. Come on, team!” she stalked out of the armoury, pistol held high. Tosh scampered after her, followed by Owen, and then by Ianto, who had found the largest gun he could. Jack scurried after him like a frightened kitten.

---

As they went deeper into the base, Tosh’s scanner began to beep more and more insistently. Finally, she stopped in front of a large door, which was slightly open.

“Why have we stopped, Cheesecake?” said Ianto, and fired a volley of machine gun bullets at the ceiling, whooping like a Texan. The sound echoed briefly down the halls before fading away, and the empty cartridges clattered around Ianto’s feet. “Aah, that was fun.”

“It looks like it’s in the room full of empty crates and barrels,” said Tosh.

Gwen nodded, and let loose several complicated hand signals before tearing the door open and rolling into the large, dark room. She came out of her roll perfectly, assuming a crouching stance and pumping lead into the various crates and barrels around her, letting out an animalistic yell as she fired again and again and again. The empty clip clattered to the floor between her tensed, taught thighs – now then, now then, PG-13 – and then there was silence, save for the gun barrel clinking as it cooled.

The rest of the team ambled into the room and up to Gwen, who stood up sheepishly. Tosh said, “Somewhere in the room full of empty crates and barrels.”

Gwen nodded, and had a Bright Idea. “Let’s split up.”

---

Tosh paced slowly through the maze of crates, all stacked high above her. The scanner had run out of power, and only took triple A batteries, so all Tosh could go on was her instincts. The gun in her right hand was not reassuring – she was sure she would accidentally shoot someone.

Oh, to be at home, watching Horizon or playing chess over the internet.

Her reverie was interrupted when she heard a noise around the corner, feet scraping against the floor and then a moan – a moan of fear? Someone was in trouble! She raised her pistol and inched toward the corner.

There was an “Aah.” She knew that “Aah”. That was Owen’s “Aah”. That was the noise he made when she gave him a sandwich or bent over to pick up a pen. Owen was in trouble!

She dashed around the corner, gun ready, and stopped in her tracks. Owen was there, alright, and he was moaning. Ianto was also there, and he was moaning as well. Tosh was disappointed to find there was no deadly alien killing machine – there was just Owen and Ianto. Two guys making out. Ianto and Owen. Her Owen.

She let out a little, “Oh!” and dropped her gun nervously. Owen stopped biting Ianto’s neck and turned to face her.

“What are you doing, spying on me?” he said, angrily.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” said Tosh, as Owen broke away from Ianto and advanced on her. “I just feel so…”

“Embarrassed?” roared Owen.

“Yes!”

“Good!” Owen’s head split open as he grabbed Tosh by the arms, and the large tentacle leapt out, planted itself on her forehead, and sucked away greedily.

Ianto said, “Woah!” He took out a tissue and started to wipe his neck dry as he watched the Polymorph feed on Tosh’s Embarrassment. After a while, the creature was sated, and turned to Ianto, who dropped his gun and raised his hands.

“Respect!” he said. The monster, satisfied by this, transformed into a space hopper and bounced off.

Tosh sat up and groaned, rubbing her forehead. She stood and looked down at what she was wearing, muttering, “Cardigan? Beige trousers?” She took her waistband between thumb and forefinger and checked her underwear. “Oh God,” she said after a few seconds, “how dull.” Tosh tossed (see what I did there?) her hair, pulling out the elastic band that had been keeping her unkempt ponytail in check. “I need to get out of these clothes,” she said.

Ianto grinned. “We need to get you out of those clothes,” he echoed. Tosh sneered, and let out a little disparaging “tchuh!”

“Dream on, you big poof,” she said, and stalked off, swaying her bottom to an almost dangerous degree.

---

Owen, meanwhile, was similarly lost among the seemingly infinite empty crates. He kept his weapon up, as well as his pistol – now then, now then! Good lord – and occasionally shot a barrel that seemed out of place. He rounded a corner and came face to face with…

Himself. There was another Owen standing there. Grinning.

It said, “Hi.”

“You have got to be the Polymorph,” replied Owen, training his pistol on his doppelganger.

“Or have I?”

“Clearly, ‘cos I’m the real Owen.”

“Or are you?”

“Stop pissing about,” said Owen, and realised how foolish he must look, bickering with himself. He thought what Jack would do. “Prepare to die… sucker.” Nice. Appropriate, too.

“Can you really kill me, Owen?” said Other Owen. He began to walk slowly toward him. “I mean, come on. Look at me. At you, rather. Wouldn’t it be kinda freaky to do it with yourself? You can always shoot me after.”

Owen gritted his teeth, feeling the gun tremble in his hands. After a few seconds of indecision, he lowered it, and said, hoarsely, “Yeah.” He threw down his weapon. He said, definitely, “Let’s have sex.”

“Boy, you have a whole raft of issues,” said the other Owen, before its head split open and the giant tentacle snaked out to latch onto Owen’s head. After several minutes of feeding, the monster, bloated on Relationship Issues, plodded away in the form of a Highland Cow.

After a few minutes, Tosh sashayed around the corner and stopped when she saw Owen. She had removed her cardigan, which was now tied around her waist in such a way as to render her lack of trousers non-scandalous but still decidedly risqué, and she ripped a strip off her shirt to reveal as much of her stomach as she could, as well as seriously restyling her hair. She was hot. Owen felt a wisecrack coming, some hilarious and nearly illegal comment about her appearance.

He said, “You look pretty. Would you like to go out to a nice restaurant tonight?” Hm, that was odd. Oh well. It was obviously very rude to objectify women, although Tosh seemed to be doing the best she could to objectify herself.

“What?” she replied. Owen stood up and bowed his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m moving too fast,” he said, “How about a picnic next Saturday? I could make my famous guacamole.”

“How about you take me roughly from behind over Jack’s desk?” said Tosh, “That would be way hot.” She smiled wickedly and ran a fingernail slowly across Owen’s cheek.

Owen swallowed. “Would you like to hold hands?”

---

A few minutes later, the team was gathered in Jack’s office, the search for the Polymorph having broken down quite badly. Tosh, who had now changed into a pink tube top with CANDY written across the chest, and some very tight white hotpants, was sitting on one of the tables with Owen sitting at her feet, making a collage with the theme and title “Owen hearts Toshie 4eva”.

Ianto was picking up every mobile and landline phone he could find and dialling the Samaritans, before dropping the phones in Jack’s bin. Gwen was not happy, nursing her cup of bad coffee.

“First off, where the hell is Jack?” she said. There was a groan from behind the desk, and Jack emerged from behind it, pulling up his trousers.

“Hello, Gwen,” he said, “Promise we’re still BFFs.”

“What?”

There was another groan, this time one of satisfaction, and Rhys heaved himself up from the floor, pulling up his own trousers. His shirt was nowhere to be seen.

Gwen’s mouth gaped. “You just had my fiancé?”

“He was too strong for me,” whimpered Jack, “I’m so fragile, and he’s such a forceful Heffalump. I tried to say no, but he…” he began to cry, “Oh Ianto, my love, forgive me!” He crawled over to Ianto and wept at his feet.

“Five times,” said Rhys, “He was ever so grateful.” He smiled. “He even yelled out your name the third time.”

The coffee cup shattered in Gwen’s hand. “You bastard, Rhys!” she yelled, “I just feel so… so…”

“ANGRY,” roared Rhys, who leapt forward, bowled her over, and transformed into the hideous, slimy Polymorph, the tentacle erupting from its head and slurping away at Gwen’s anger and indignation. After a short while, it finished, transformed into a small model helicopter, and flew out of the office. Ianto fired a few desultory shots at it, but was unable to aim properly as Jack was trying to show him the poem he had written.

“Wow, Gwen got punk’d,” said Tosh. “Someone get her on her feet, seeing her lying on the floor panting like that is making me tingle.” Owen went over to Gwen immediately and pulled her up into a sitting position, checking her for any wounds. Every few seconds he turned to look briefly at Tosh and smile at her, hoping she would reward him with a smile in turn. She just took three cigarettes from somewhere in her skintight outfit and tried to smoke them all at once.

“I think the horrid alien got you, Gwen,” said Jack, “With you defeated we’re all doomed. Our only hope is honourable suicide.” He raised his pistol, placed it in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, empty. Jack dropped it and sighed. “I’m so selfish, I couldn’t leave Ianto. You don’t want me to leave you, do you, Ianto?” He looked up at the purple-shirted Welshman. “Do you? Ianto? You like me, don’t you? Ianto? Ianto? Ianto. Ianto!” He was silent for a few seconds. “Ianto?”

“What a shame,” said Gwen, standing up, supported by the polite, quiet Owen. “Oh well. No use crying over spilt milk.” She sat down at Jack’s desk and took out a piece of paper. “Okay, team, we need an action plan to deal with this crisis. Would that be agreeable to everyone?”

“You’re the lady,” said Owen, sitting next to Tosh and trying to hold her hand.

“Whatever, Sugartits,” said Tosh.

“I’m going to write a novel where you all die,” said Ianto.

“Action plans can’t save us, but if you really think they will, you’re in charge,” said Jack, “Just pretend I don’t exist. I know you all secretly don’t like spending time with me anyway.”

“Right,” said Gwen, placing a flower in her hair and doodling a butterfly on the paper. “We need to get tough on his nasty alien thingy. How about I write it a stern letter?” She chewed her pencil nervously. “No, we don’t know its address. Okay, stop me if I’m talking nonsense…”

“You’re a whore,” said Ianto, and threw a phone at her, which missed and bounced off Jack’s bronze statuette of Cole Porter.

“You are a funny one, Ianto,” said Gwen, smiling beatifically. “Anyway, I think trying to find the monster and kill it is counterproductive in the long run. We need to tackle the source of the problem, not the problem itself. Societal and economic factors are the real reason this alien killing machine feels it must feed on humans to survive. I propose a full package of benefits, including free healthcare for all Polymorphs, as well as a documentary series on BBC1… okay, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, BBC3. A documentary series on BBC3 explaining how we should learn to accept the differences of shape changing aliens, instead of fearing them. Any questions?”

“I say we feed monkey-face Owen to it and plug it while it’s trying to digest his gristly brain,” said Ianto.

“Watch it, Tweedledee,” Tosh replied, walking up behind Owen and smacking him on the bottom. He went red and started self consciously tidying Jack’s desk. “This boy’s a sure thing.”

“I’ll gladly sacrifice myself so that more worthy people can live,” said Jack, drawing his pistol from its holster. “I must defeat this alien beast so Ianto is safe!” He stopped, and deflated. “But I can’t.”

“Wait a shit,” said Ianto, bending over and picking up the gun Jack had discarded previously, “Why does Mr Sniffles have two guns now?”

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at the gun in Ianto’s hand.

Gwen said, “Hey, I might be wrong, but maybe it’s the-”

Ianto yelled and threw the pistol at Tosh. It morphed in mid-air, but the alien, gorged on Guilt, Confidence, Embarrassment, Relationship Issues and Anger, was confused and suffering from more than a little indigestion. It shape shifted into a small white rabbit, which landed on Tosh’s face. She shrieked, and hurled it onto the floor.

“Bunny!” yelled Owen, grabbing Ianto’s assault rifle and opening up on the adorable rabbit. With a cry of “I’ll save you, my Toshie!” he emptied the entire clip at the alien, roaring the whole time. When the gun was empty, he dropped it, panting.

Jack took his head out from under the wastepaper bin and stood, looking over at where the Polymorph had made its last stand in bunny-form. Tosh covered her mouth and looked away. “Haaagh,” said Jack, “That’s not right.”

Owen looked over at Tosh, and his eyes lit up with merry cheer. “Boing!” he said.

“Oh my God, what am I wearing?” said Tosh, and ran out as fast as she could on her six inch heels.

Owen picked up the large piece of pink paper on the floor, upon which were stuck dozens of photos of him and Tosh. “I made a collage?”

Ianto covered his face with his hands. “Oh God, the things I said,” he groaned, “I feel so… guilty.” Jack patted him on the head and carefully tore up the poem he had written.

“I knew we’d win,” he said, “I was here.”

“Shut up,” said Gwen, “This is all your fault. What if I’d died, Jack? What would have happened to Rhys?” She smacked her fist on the desk. “It’s just not good enough, Jack!”

The Captain smiled. “Everything’s back to normal,” he said, with satisfaction.

---

That night, once the Morph-bunny remains had been cleared up and burned, along with Owen’s collage and Jack’s poem, the team sheepishly went home. Owen to a club, where he hoped to find a drunk 19 year-old bisexual, Tosh to a nice mug of cocoa and Sudoku in front of Question Time, and Gwen to 20 minutes of thoroughly unimaginative sex with Rhys before he fell asleep.

Ianto and Jack were in his office, Ianto busy filing away a brief report of the day’s activities. Jack walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Wrote you another poem,” he said. He handed Ianto the sheet of paper, and stood behind him as he read it, resting his hands on Ianto’s shoulders.

“Oh my God, this is…” said Ianto, after a moment, trailing off as he continued reading. “Oh, and there are illustrations.”

“Note how every other line rhymes, without fail,” said Jack, grinning wickedly.

Ianto pointed out one word. “Even that one. That’s impressive.” He read a few more lines, reread them. “What’s that?” he said, indicating the confusing segment.

Jack leant forward slightly and whispered in his ear. Ianto swallowed and loosened his collar.

“I’ll get my UNIT cap.”

---

And deep in the bowels of the Torchwood base, the containment cylinder sat empty in one of the base’s most secure cells. Though it was melted through on one side, a casual reader could still just about make out the words stencilled on the Polymorph holding crate.

WARNING, CONTAINS HIGHLY DANGEROUS GENETIC EXPERIMENT
CONTENTS: 2
- 1
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Torchwood: Polymorph