Torchwood Fic: Now and Then We Rebuild
Title: Now and Then We Rebuild
Author: eldarwannabe
Beta: Roommate (surprise!) checked the grammar on this one.
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Gwen Cooper, Rhiannon Davies
Summary: Five ways Gwen and Rhiannon encountered each other, after.
Notes: Number five was actually written forever ago, for dreamscapemusic's prompt over at tw_femficfest, which was, "After her brother's death, Rhiannon helps Gwen rebuild Torchwood." But it didn't quite fill the prompt, so I held off posting it for a while, and thought about it. Eventually I wrote number one, which actually does fill the prompt. But in the meantime I had come up with other ideas. So you guys get five things, not two. :)
Warning: Mostly for implied non-con retcon. These get darker and darker and then lighter. Be warned.
1.
It was almost a month before Gwen could bring herself to go back. The first time, she only had a little paper mask and trainers, and she felt the crunch and crumble of the debris beneath her feet, and she thought about airborne toxins and things that shouldn't be contributing to fetal development. The next time she came wearing a gas mask and thick, sturdy boots.
During the day she scavenged, and at night she made lists and phone calls. Lois didn't need to come work for Torchwood, but she wasn't going to stay in that cell. Andy had lost his job, but that shouldn't mean he had to work for Torchwood either. Gwen needed muscle, she needed a medic, and she needed someone who could puzzle through technology. But she wasn't going to force anyone on her side.
She wanted, though. She wanted someone with her, someone who wasn't Rhys, someone who would role up their sleeves and work with her. Instead, she bought large black bin bags and sturdy plastic boxes and she made up little piles like she knew what she was doing.
"Those don't look right together."
Gwen whipped around. Rhiannon Davies was standing there, in practical denim and long sleeves, hands on her hips. "Those bits don't look right together. You should at least separate by material if you don't know what they all are." And with that, Rhiannon picked out the bits made of the shiny purple alien metal and put them in their own box, and the bits of tacky plastic in another one.
In two weeks she had a filing system put together with Lois, and in three she had them all on regular meals and hours. "Just because you are outside the government doesn't mean you can't take their bank holidays," she liked to say. And eventually, when enough time had passed, Gwen mentioned how surprised she had been at all of it. Gwen made it a joke, not wanting to insult, only to share. Rhiannon looked up from her mug of tea and responded, with a slight twist of her lips, "Who do you think taught Ianto to file, then?"
2.
"She wanted me to say-"
"No, Andy." Gwen hurried faster, huddling in her coat against the rain.
"Gwen, she just wants-"
"No, Andy." Torchwood has taken too much already. Ianto never told them about his sister, had protected his family with the flimsy lies and physical distance, but he wasn't here to do it anymore. The last Gwen could do was try to keep them as safe as her own relatives. Gwen's mother thought Gwen had a high-ranking desk job and had completely missed the bombs in Cardiff and the alien crises. Rhiannon Davies didn't even have that, but Gwen certainly wasn't going to bring any of it to her now.
3.
"Get the fuck out of my house."
"Listen, I-"
"Get the fuck out of my house, and the hell away from my children, and I don't want to see you ever again. Do you hear me?"
4.
Gwen watched the little girl pump her legs on the swings, sailing higher and higher. The boy was kicking a football on the grass, passing it back and forth with another boy that Gwen had seen once or twice.
The woman sat on the bench and chatted with a friend, and smiled. Her accent stood out here, but her husband had a good job and she seemed content. Gossiping at the parks, her stories came out. Yes, she had moved months and months ago. She didn't have any reason to stay in Wales. Her only brother had died, you see, during those horrible days with the children. The police said he had swerved his car to avoid hitting one on the road. Oh, where was she? Those days are such a blur, you know. She kept the children home. Horrible, wasn't it?
Gwen put down her piece of alien technology. Torchwood protocol said that if retcon held for a year, it was expected to last. Johnny had already checked out this morning, and the children didn't talk about it at school. So Gwen stood up and walked back to her car. It was a long drive back to Cardiff.
5.
Gwen wanted to give her space, didn't want to interfere during a time of mourning.
But that's not how it works for Torchwood.
They spent nearly two weeks working together, just fighting for the body. And then Gwen found herself offering to pay for the funeral, guiltily grateful that she didn't have to consider insisting on the vaults because they were gone.
She did order a hermetically-sealed casket. Just in case.
After the funeral Gwen finally got back to the wreckage. Lois had already started, with Andy helping. It was just the three of them, with Rhys on some days. UNIT offered to help repeatedly, but Gwen liked to know who she was working with, wanted to trust the people who were handling her life.
When they uncovered a striped piece of blue-and-white ceramic, Gwen left early. She drove aimlessly for a while, then stopped to buy a cup of hot, decaffeinated tea. Two sips later she tossed it and started driving with purpose.
It was only when she parked that she thought she should have brought something with her. She searched through the glove box for some of Rhys's Mars Bars.
When she rang the doorbell she had a moment of sheer what am I doing panic.
Rhiannon opened the door.
***
Gwen brought her sonogram prints, and proudly showed off the blurry head and leg that the technician had pointed out for her.
Rhiannon nodded. "The first one is always exciting."
"Not the second?"
"Oh, the second too. But you think you know what to expect when you've done it before."
She left the table, and Gwen studied the patches of white and grey.
Rhiannon came back with an overstuffed photo album, ends of loose photos sticking out.
"I keep meaning to organize it properly, but it's so much easier to just shove pictures inside."
Rhinnon pulled her chair next to Gwen, and they cooed together over blond hair and chubby cheeks. They picked up and admired the out-of-order individual prints before they turned the page, and Rhiannon made a soft sound.
It was Ianto, but Gwen could hardly recognize him with messy hair and an oversized hoodie. He was cradling David like glass, supporting the head and body carefully. In the next photo Ianto's finger was clutched in a tiny baby fist. Rhiannon didn't say anything, and neither did Gwen. They looked at the rest of the pictures quietly before turning the page.
***
Gwen was absolutely exhausted. Rhys was grouchy from lack of sleep. They tried to take turns getting up at night, but it normally came down to the first one who found the strength to drag the three feet to the bassinet.
Today Lois was sorting through possible doctors after Andy was slightly poisoned by a Kryloxian spice rack. Lois had managed two nerve-wracking days on her own while Gwen was in labor. Now she was in charge of two UNIT operatives borrowed strictly for field work, while Andy dragged along his oxygen tank to take pictures of possible locations for their next base and send them to Gwen.
She was reviewing the photos when Rhiannon came to visit.
Together they crept into the dimly-lit nursery, and they peered into the cradle, the air heavy with baby powder and clean-baby smell.
They retreated to the couch where Rhiannon gave her a box of baby clothes in every color of the rainbow, and spit cloths and a few large, child-safe toys.
"Are you sure about doing all of this?" Rhiannon asked, waving at the scattered Harwood's forms, baby bottles and the laptop open to Andy's photos.
Gwen smoothed down her blouse. Torchwood would never have a uniform, but all of them came to work these days wearing smart clothes, for a job. The Queen had just increased her budget by 1.8 million pounds, and according to the book Gwen picked up, she might even be sleeping full nights in two-to-eight months, if she made someone else take the rift monitor at night.
"I'm sure," Gwen said.
Before she left, Rhiannon invited Gwen over for Sunday lunch. Mica and David both liked Rhys's rosemary chicken, and Rhiannon said she had a good recipe she wanted to share in return.
Author: eldarwannabe
Beta: Roommate (surprise!) checked the grammar on this one.
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Gwen Cooper, Rhiannon Davies
Summary: Five ways Gwen and Rhiannon encountered each other, after.
Notes: Number five was actually written forever ago, for dreamscapemusic's prompt over at tw_femficfest, which was, "After her brother's death, Rhiannon helps Gwen rebuild Torchwood." But it didn't quite fill the prompt, so I held off posting it for a while, and thought about it. Eventually I wrote number one, which actually does fill the prompt. But in the meantime I had come up with other ideas. So you guys get five things, not two. :)
Warning: Mostly for implied non-con retcon. These get darker and darker and then lighter. Be warned.
1.
It was almost a month before Gwen could bring herself to go back. The first time, she only had a little paper mask and trainers, and she felt the crunch and crumble of the debris beneath her feet, and she thought about airborne toxins and things that shouldn't be contributing to fetal development. The next time she came wearing a gas mask and thick, sturdy boots.
During the day she scavenged, and at night she made lists and phone calls. Lois didn't need to come work for Torchwood, but she wasn't going to stay in that cell. Andy had lost his job, but that shouldn't mean he had to work for Torchwood either. Gwen needed muscle, she needed a medic, and she needed someone who could puzzle through technology. But she wasn't going to force anyone on her side.
She wanted, though. She wanted someone with her, someone who wasn't Rhys, someone who would role up their sleeves and work with her. Instead, she bought large black bin bags and sturdy plastic boxes and she made up little piles like she knew what she was doing.
"Those don't look right together."
Gwen whipped around. Rhiannon Davies was standing there, in practical denim and long sleeves, hands on her hips. "Those bits don't look right together. You should at least separate by material if you don't know what they all are." And with that, Rhiannon picked out the bits made of the shiny purple alien metal and put them in their own box, and the bits of tacky plastic in another one.
In two weeks she had a filing system put together with Lois, and in three she had them all on regular meals and hours. "Just because you are outside the government doesn't mean you can't take their bank holidays," she liked to say. And eventually, when enough time had passed, Gwen mentioned how surprised she had been at all of it. Gwen made it a joke, not wanting to insult, only to share. Rhiannon looked up from her mug of tea and responded, with a slight twist of her lips, "Who do you think taught Ianto to file, then?"
2.
"She wanted me to say-"
"No, Andy." Gwen hurried faster, huddling in her coat against the rain.
"Gwen, she just wants-"
"No, Andy." Torchwood has taken too much already. Ianto never told them about his sister, had protected his family with the flimsy lies and physical distance, but he wasn't here to do it anymore. The last Gwen could do was try to keep them as safe as her own relatives. Gwen's mother thought Gwen had a high-ranking desk job and had completely missed the bombs in Cardiff and the alien crises. Rhiannon Davies didn't even have that, but Gwen certainly wasn't going to bring any of it to her now.
3.
"Get the fuck out of my house."
"Listen, I-"
"Get the fuck out of my house, and the hell away from my children, and I don't want to see you ever again. Do you hear me?"
4.
Gwen watched the little girl pump her legs on the swings, sailing higher and higher. The boy was kicking a football on the grass, passing it back and forth with another boy that Gwen had seen once or twice.
The woman sat on the bench and chatted with a friend, and smiled. Her accent stood out here, but her husband had a good job and she seemed content. Gossiping at the parks, her stories came out. Yes, she had moved months and months ago. She didn't have any reason to stay in Wales. Her only brother had died, you see, during those horrible days with the children. The police said he had swerved his car to avoid hitting one on the road. Oh, where was she? Those days are such a blur, you know. She kept the children home. Horrible, wasn't it?
Gwen put down her piece of alien technology. Torchwood protocol said that if retcon held for a year, it was expected to last. Johnny had already checked out this morning, and the children didn't talk about it at school. So Gwen stood up and walked back to her car. It was a long drive back to Cardiff.
5.
Gwen wanted to give her space, didn't want to interfere during a time of mourning.
But that's not how it works for Torchwood.
They spent nearly two weeks working together, just fighting for the body. And then Gwen found herself offering to pay for the funeral, guiltily grateful that she didn't have to consider insisting on the vaults because they were gone.
She did order a hermetically-sealed casket. Just in case.
After the funeral Gwen finally got back to the wreckage. Lois had already started, with Andy helping. It was just the three of them, with Rhys on some days. UNIT offered to help repeatedly, but Gwen liked to know who she was working with, wanted to trust the people who were handling her life.
When they uncovered a striped piece of blue-and-white ceramic, Gwen left early. She drove aimlessly for a while, then stopped to buy a cup of hot, decaffeinated tea. Two sips later she tossed it and started driving with purpose.
It was only when she parked that she thought she should have brought something with her. She searched through the glove box for some of Rhys's Mars Bars.
When she rang the doorbell she had a moment of sheer what am I doing panic.
Rhiannon opened the door.
***
Gwen brought her sonogram prints, and proudly showed off the blurry head and leg that the technician had pointed out for her.
Rhiannon nodded. "The first one is always exciting."
"Not the second?"
"Oh, the second too. But you think you know what to expect when you've done it before."
She left the table, and Gwen studied the patches of white and grey.
Rhiannon came back with an overstuffed photo album, ends of loose photos sticking out.
"I keep meaning to organize it properly, but it's so much easier to just shove pictures inside."
Rhinnon pulled her chair next to Gwen, and they cooed together over blond hair and chubby cheeks. They picked up and admired the out-of-order individual prints before they turned the page, and Rhiannon made a soft sound.
It was Ianto, but Gwen could hardly recognize him with messy hair and an oversized hoodie. He was cradling David like glass, supporting the head and body carefully. In the next photo Ianto's finger was clutched in a tiny baby fist. Rhiannon didn't say anything, and neither did Gwen. They looked at the rest of the pictures quietly before turning the page.
***
Gwen was absolutely exhausted. Rhys was grouchy from lack of sleep. They tried to take turns getting up at night, but it normally came down to the first one who found the strength to drag the three feet to the bassinet.
Today Lois was sorting through possible doctors after Andy was slightly poisoned by a Kryloxian spice rack. Lois had managed two nerve-wracking days on her own while Gwen was in labor. Now she was in charge of two UNIT operatives borrowed strictly for field work, while Andy dragged along his oxygen tank to take pictures of possible locations for their next base and send them to Gwen.
She was reviewing the photos when Rhiannon came to visit.
Together they crept into the dimly-lit nursery, and they peered into the cradle, the air heavy with baby powder and clean-baby smell.
They retreated to the couch where Rhiannon gave her a box of baby clothes in every color of the rainbow, and spit cloths and a few large, child-safe toys.
"Are you sure about doing all of this?" Rhiannon asked, waving at the scattered Harwood's forms, baby bottles and the laptop open to Andy's photos.
Gwen smoothed down her blouse. Torchwood would never have a uniform, but all of them came to work these days wearing smart clothes, for a job. The Queen had just increased her budget by 1.8 million pounds, and according to the book Gwen picked up, she might even be sleeping full nights in two-to-eight months, if she made someone else take the rift monitor at night.
"I'm sure," Gwen said.
Before she left, Rhiannon invited Gwen over for Sunday lunch. Mica and David both liked Rhys's rosemary chicken, and Rhiannon said she had a good recipe she wanted to share in return.