Title: Spectator
Author: halfspokenwords
Pairings: Team (slight Jack/Ianto if you want it)
Rating: PG
Summary: Because not all aliens are out to murder Cardiff. Some are just, well, alien.

***

Jack and Gwen took off at a run, Toshiko's directions in their ears. As they turned the final corner, they found Owen at a stand-still, pointing his weapon at an alien. A body, dead in a pool of blood, lay between them.

They both skidded to a stop, looking from their teammate to the visitor. It was large and nebulous, with something amoeba-like about the body shape. It seemed to pulsate under the street lamps.

"Owen," Jack commanded. "Stand down."

"I don't think so, Harkness."

"We were wrong." He was still staring at the creature, watching as it shimmered. Its colour changed-- a rich blue, to royal purple, to black as oil. It was breathtaking. He smiled, awed, and took a step forward. "These deaths are as human as they look."

"Jack," Gwen urged from behind him. "It killed all those people."

"No." He shook his head and reached out a hand. It extended a wispy tentacle in return. "Hello." Over his shoulder, he explained, "They're not murderers, not these guys. They're... spectators."

"Spectators?" Gwen hadn't moved. Her voice was confused, yet curious, and little doubtful.

"Yes." Jack moved his hand, seeming to stroke the smoke. "You're a long way from home, beautiful." When its colour changed again, red-orange and then a telling mauve, he sighed. "Owen, you're scaring her."

The doctor shot him an undecided look, but ultimately lowered his gun. Jack murmured something in an unrecognisable language. "Her people are drawn to death, human death, for some reason," he said aside to them. "She's not a threat."

Jack spoke a few more words, and the alien moved to envelope him almost completely with its smoky tendrils. After a few seconds of contact in shades of blue, it floated off a few metres and then just-- faded from view. Even once it was gone and Owen had started to examine the body, Jack couldn't tear his eyes from the place where it had been, his expression one of quiet thought.

In the dim evening lighting, he looked almost-- vulnerable.

"Where--" Gwen said, coming to stand beside him. "Where did it go?"

Finally Jack glanced at her, his demeanor completely changed-- shielded in good humour-- and grinned. "Poor girl was lost. I told her she was scaring the locals, gave her directions, and she left."

---


Ianto knocked, but entered without waiting for a reply. He poured them each a glass of Jack's best, cleared space on the desk, and then sat down. He let their fingers brush, thoughtfully, as he handed over the whisky.

"Thanks." Jack watched him carefully and moved the tumbler from hand to hand. He could see Ianto trying to form a question, so he merely waited.

"Spectating," Ianto said carefully. "So to them, death is... what? A play, near as I can figure."

"Sort of. Or think of it as... savouring a fine wine."

He gave a small snort. "Hell of a thing to savour."

"No, actually, maybe you're right. Like a play. You like the theater, Ianto?" Ianto nodded; Jack filed that information away for future reference. "All right. So you go and watch Romeo and Juliet-- why?"

"It's a beautiful demonstration of the capabilities of the English language."

"No," he said, so definitive it was almost a command. "You go to watch Romeo and Juliet die the splendid deaths you know they'll have. Believe me, it was the same in the Renaissance."

He received the usual raised eyebrow and the inquisitve look, but as usual, Ianto asked no questions. Sometimes Jack wondered just how much he had let slip, how many of his secrets could be deciphered by the assortment of small details now stored in Ianto's flawless memory.

"Best guess, they're an ancient race, barely any corporeal form left, and what is there is optional. They spend most of their lives as pure energy. No one knows what it is, exactly, that attracts them to the dying, or why. Comfort, maybe. The one that we saw, I think she was injured or upset."

"Which might explain why she needed to seek out so many," Ianto mused. "If it's comforting. The alien equivalent of a night in with take-away and your DVD collection."

Jack nodded his agreement. "But they never cause death, only observe it. Sooner or later, it will be considered one of the greatest mysteries of all time."

Ianto's scrutiny stayed constant even as he hummed a thoughtful, throaty "Hm."

"Yeah," Jack continued in a laugh, finally taking a drink from the untouched glass. "I certainly don't know what they see in it."

***