What's a grown up girl like you to do? [fic]
Title: What's a grown up girl like you to do?
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating(s): PG-13
Pairing(s): Toshiko Sato/Kathy Swanson
Summary: There's a serial killer on the loose, but Tosh has other problems.
A/N: Dedicated to atraphoenix, because I've left the other bit of Tosh/Kathy I promised her at home. Title's not mine - nicked from The Grates song "Sukkafish". and, yeah, there maybe a sequel. All depends on my ailing health.
Tosh has heard it said that it’s never as simple as being in love. She used to think she understood it. Maybe she did and all this is just a new perspective, a quick (painful) reminder that it’s never that simple, never that easy and she’s a fool for thinking it, even for a minute.
She went into this relationship in full awareness that it was going to be difficult. They both did. They both knew that it was going to take work. They were good at work, they were brilliant at difficult, and for a while this seemed to transfer over; they were two high-power career women, making a difference in jobs they loved and having a life, sharing it with someone they loved. It was idyllic. Better - it was perfect.
Of course, perfect is a dangerous word and an even more dangerous concept. Perfect is fleeting, given in moments and bite-sized pieces and once you’ve savoured it everything else feels like making do.
And they aren’t even making do, Toshiko realises. Not anymore. Kathy hasn’t been home before Tosh went to bed for nearly a week. Three of those nights she didn’t come home at all. They hadn’t spoken for nearly nine days because they had a rather big row over… something, Tosh can’t quite remember what (which even she knows is a pretty bad sign) and for the two days, before some bright spark down at the station with two and two made four and realised they had a serial killer on their hands, didn’t speak to each other. It wasn’t that difficult; Jack had, through some of his more unsavoury connections, brought a particularly baffling artefact back to the Hub and dumped it on her desk with cheerful instruction that she figure out how dangerous it was. Tosh had dutifully spent almost every waking hour bent over it (only to discover it was the 14th century Alzarian equivalent of a thermos flask) - all they had to do was “forget” to call or text each other.
The relationship’s in dire straights and no mistake. It’s going to take more than a sit down to talk about their feelings and a few evenings snuggled up on the sofa together watching movies and eating ice cream.
It would be a start, though. A baby step in the right direction.
She texts Kathy - still at the station, probably on her fifth tea of the evening, because she hates coffee in any shape or form, and having an argument with John because that’s what they do if they’re in the same room at this time of night - to say “hope you’re okay, love you”, which strikes her, minutes later, as really rather pointless. She puts herself to bed and doesn’t even bother trying to stay awake until Kathy comes home.
The next morning there’s a message on the answering machine, but Tosh doesn’t listen past the first few seconds because it’s from Kathy who is now sat at the kitchen table.
“Went round the flat,” she explains between mouthfuls of Special K, “but I was out of shampoo and cereal stuff. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
Definitely in trouble.
Tosh suggests haltingly her idea of going out for a meal somewhere nice once they’ve wrapped up the serial killer case.
“Wrapped up?” Kathy laughs bitterly. “We’re nowhere near - haven’t even got a suspect for God’s sake.”
“Seriously?” Tosh is really hoping Kathy hasn’t already mentioned this to her.
“We’re still having to convince some of the higher-ups that we’re dealing with the same person. They’re not too keen on the idea of us having a serial killer.”
“I wonder why,” Tosh murmurs, regretting it almost the instant it slips through her lips - then she catches Kathy smiling out of the corner of her eye, so it’s all good.
“I’m thinking,” says Kathy as she appears beside Toshiko to dump her empty bowl and spoon in the sink, “I’m going to be too busy these next few weeks. But dinner sounds nice.”
Tosh smiles. “When you’ve finished, then?”
Kathy tilts her head from side to side, thinking about it. “We’ll see.”
They spend the next week mostly exchanging texts - they can’t get away to meet up and Kathy has no time to phone. Things are going poorly down at the station and the press are butchering them for it.
It really doesn’t help when Gwen, who has been screening crime in the city via newspapers and gossip from a few old friends in the police, finds mention of something unusual; possibility a new alien toy for them to fiddle with. Of course, they need to check out the crime scene. Of which Kathy is in charge.
Tosh ducks out of sight, going into hiding down in the cells which works out very nicely until Jack comes down there looking specifically for her.
“Can’t I stay here? I have some research to do, and the A-dar updates need to be set up.”
“It just needs to be put up and activated - Ianto can handle it.”
“All the same, I’d rather be here to oversee, make sure the system doesn’t suffer any damage -”
“Will you let it go, already? He did it once, and that was back when he and Owen swapped bodies. I’d be thrown off my game if I swapped bodies with Owen. Not nearly as much as Owen would be, but still - I need you.”
“What for? Do we need any searches or cross-referencing done…?” She feigns ignorance, though it’s already occurred to her what he wants to bring her along for; she can already feel his hand at the small of her back about to push her in Kathy’s direction, the murmured order Make nice to the detective already in her ear.
Jack tilts his head, eyes skittering to the side for a moment, then he looks her full in the face. “I need you to ease the liaison with the police down there.”
“That’s what Gwen’s for, isn’t it?” Tosh asks, as though it’s only just occurred to her, starting to walk off to project the notion that she really has got plenty of work to do down here in the underground base, thank you very much. She can’t be dragged away to stop her girlfriend from kicking up a fuss.
There’s a pause, in which Jack probably sighs, but she doesn’t hear it. “Kathy’s in charge.”
“I heard.” She tries to pick up the pace, though the idea that she can somehow outrun him is a severe lapse in judgement on her part. Jack catches her up and meets her stride easily.
“I’d like you to talk to her.”
“About?” She’s never going to be fast enough.
“Crime scene and such.”
Toshiko purses her lips. “Why?” It’s sharp and authoritative, like she’s the one in charge and he’s the subordinate tripping over his own feet trying to keep up, rather than the reality of her trying (and failing miserably) to blank her boss.
She hears him sigh this time and sees him roll his eyes. “You know why,” he says, impatient with her affected ignorance. She can’t really pull it off that well.
Tosh comes to an abrupt halt and is slightly disappointed to find that Jack manages to stop in time with her. “Are you suggesting that I use the private relationship I have with Detective Swanson to influence her for the sole purpose of aiding our investigation?” she asks, giving up on sounding innocently baffled and letting the natural anger come out.
“I’m asking you to go talk to her, find out what you can while we’re checking out the crime scene.”
“After the whole song and dance there was over the fact I was going out with a Detective Inspector? I cannot believe you’re asking me to do this -”
“Ordering, technically, but that’s neither here nor there - I’m asking you because she’s more likely to talk to you, more likely to give up details, little things about the crime scene that have been bothering her -”
“Is Gwen the only one who you want to have a life outside work? She’s a bloody detective, Jack! Don’t you think she might twig what you’re up to?”
“Even when she does she won’t be able to help letting slip one or two things. I need you on this one. You’re coming whether you like it or not.”
There are times this man, who can’t be more than ten years older than her (unless that rumour is actually true, in which case this makes slightly more sense) makes her feel like she’s fourteen again, whining at her Mum. “But Jack -”
“For all we know Kathy’s serial killer could be using this alien device and that’s why it took so long for them to connect the deaths.” He takes a step closer, stooping a little and she wonders if he gets as bored looking down at her as she does looking up at him. “We have a job to do. We might be able to help Kathy do hers too. You’re coming.” He doesn’t need to add and that’s final; it’s all in his tone. He then turns on his heel and strides away, off to rally more troops.
She could call him back and tell him this isn’t a good idea; that she and Kathy aren’t talking much at the moment and she probably doesn’t have nearly as much sway with her as Jack seems to think. She could and probably should, for the sake of her relationship if nothing else. But she doesn’t. It could be pride. It could be that jealous need for privacy in what little of her life she can call her own. It could be Jack’s actually gotten to her with some of his reasons. Could be.
It seems ironic somehow that she would, if she ever needed to, be able to tell an alien using mathematical formulae “I love you” and so often has no idea what’s going on in her own head. It just doesn’t seem fair.
Kathy is not amused.
“I need this, Toshiko. Every second we have here is vital, you know that. I can’t have your lot trampling in and screwing up evidence.”
Toshiko swallows. “We can just send Gwen in - she has experience in crime scenes, so long as it’s all marked out she’ll know what to leave alone -”
“It’s a fucking crime scene, she shouldn’t be taking anything!”
This turns a few heads, and Tosh takes the opportunity to glare at Jack. Turning back to Kathy, Toshiko says, “We think there may be something here relevant to a case we’re currently working on -”
“And your case is more important than mine, is that it?”
“I’m not saying anything like that and you know it!” Toshiko snaps. “I’m asking you to turn over your crime scene to us for a few moments, because we have a case which may well cross over with your serial killer; we solve our case you could solve yours and if not, we’re out of your hair for another week.”
Kathy purses her lips, no doubt restraining herself from passing comment, or mentioning that Toshiko isn’t asking her, but ordering her. She instead gives Toshiko a hard cold stare and signals to a nearby policeman to let them through.
Jack, Gwen and Owen continue in, but Toshiko remains behind.
“Not going in?” asks Kathy snidely.
“The fewer people mucking up the crime scene the better, right? I’m not necessary.”
“Except for chatting up the Detective in charge to let people in.” Her tone is bitter and accusing.
Toshiko stares at her feet. “I was told to come in case Jack needed me to cross reference -”
If Tosh were thinking she wouldn’t mention Jack. Kathy hates Jack, and hates even more how Tosh trusts and obeys him - or, as Kathy puts it “follows him blindly”. It’s not jealousy; it’s just one of those things that makes Kathy respect her a little less.
“Oh, and Jack knows best, doesn’t he?” Kathy feels Jack is unsuited to his position - or rather, what she perceives is his position - and has suggested more than once that he won command of Torchwood Cardiff in a game of cards. Tosh is careful not to express how close to the truth she suspects Kathy is.
Tosh doesn’t say anything and they stand in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Toshiko wavers between asking her and not asking her. On the one hand it will probably alienate Kathy - at the very least it will anger her and she has no desire to be slapped in public by her girlfriend, especially in front of their colleagues. On the other hand it is her job, something she takes pride in and must do to the best of her abilities, girlfriend or no girlfriend. Going back to the first hand, Jack’s already had her use her personal life as leverage on this investigation. Why should she push it any further? Back on the second hand it could help lead to this serial killer, if indeed the killer is using alien tech.
With no small amount of reluctance Tosh clears her throat and says, “I’d like to hear about the crime scene. The body, when it was found, by who, that kind of thing. If that’s okay.”
Kathy gives her the kind of filthy look she usually saves for Jack, lips twitching to curl into a sneer. “If I must.” She begins to outline the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the body, adds the names and contact details of the people Tosh is going to have to climb over to get to the files. Tosh notes them all down and wonders how the hell they’ve come to this.
“Something up with your face?”
Toshiko can’t help it. Her eyes roll and she sighs heavily. It’s a conditioned response to Owen when one is in a bad mood. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re pouting,” says Owen, demonstrating in what Tosh hopes for his health and safety in the immediate future is an exaggeration.
“So?”
Owen’s turn to roll his eyes, though Tosh is damned if she knows why. “So, I was wondering why.” He cocks his head. “Man troubles? No, wait - girl troubles.”
“It’s none of your business.” She makes a point of staring intently at the screen hoping he’d just shut up and leave her alone.
“Ha! Thought so! What’s up? Sexual strife, please say it’s sexual strife, go on -”
“Haven’t you got work to do?”
“Probably. You fall out over ice cream flavours again? Did you two actually do that or was that a dream?”
“Owen! I mean it, not in the mood right now.”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “That what the problem is?”
Tosh grits her teeth. “If you want someone to giggle over smutty innuendoes with you, Gwen’s up in the TIC.”
That does the trick. Owen narrows his eyes and slides off the chair. “Y’know, I’ve just remembered. Mountain of paperwork to get through. Can’t stop to hear about your pathetic sex life.” And the minute he slopes off Tosh feels terrible. Not that calling him back or apologising is going to make any difference; he’ll be sulking over this until tomorrow at the very least whatever she does. Best to just get on with her work and keep her mouth shut. Not that there’s anyone much to not talk to; Jack is apparently roaming the archives and everyone else seems holed up in the TIC. Maybe the new shelving’s come in.
She has the files e-mailed to her very pointedly from John rather than Kathy and scans them for mentions of anything out of the ordinary. It’s easy to see why it took them so long to link the deaths together; on the surface they have next to nothing in common. Different victims, different MOs. Tosh has seen enough police dramas to know it doesn’t add up, and heard enough about it from Kathy -
Kathy who probably isn’t going to be even texting her for the next day or two. Their last thread of communication, the one thing upon which their continued relationship was relying…
Tosh puts her head in her hands for a moment, wondering vaguely how she’s managed alienate pretty much everyone.
There’s a soft clack somewhere to her left and she looks up to see Ianto settling himself in the chair next to her. “I brought coffee,” he offers, nodding to the steaming mug on the desk.
Tosh tries to smile back and takes a sip. “Decaffeinated?”
Ianto looks a little surprised. “Owen said you wanted some -” He trails off, misreading Toshiko’s expression. “He getting bored again? Because I can always delegate more paperwork his way -”
Tosh shakes her head. “Don’t. I - I got a bit - I said something I didn’t mean. Well, I meant it, but I shouldn’t have said it.”
Ianto frowned, then smirked. “You haven’t swapped bodies, have you? This isn’t you, is it, Owen?”
Tosh smiles wryly. “You wish.”
“No I don’t. Really, I don’t.”
Tosh lets out a huff of laughter, but the frown comes back.
Ianto leans in. “What’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing,” he adds as Tosh started to shake her head.
“It’s…” She stops and starts again. “It’s not nothing. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ianto pauses. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, or -”
“I think I’d rather be left alone.”
Ianto pauses again, then nods. “Okay.” He stands awkwardly. “Okay. I’ll just be up there.” He goes a few steps and turns again. “If you want anything -”
Tosh nods and watches him go.
Best to just leave everything alone for now.
It’s been two days. Owen’s still making smart remarks to her and about her within her earshot, but is also talking to her again, so all’s well there. Kathy has deigned to send an e-mail to Tosh herself with autopsy reports attached.
The e-mail reads:
Hope you’re making some headway (and if so, please feel free to share). Press are being nasty little guttersnipes, as per usual. You secret organisations don’t know how lucky you are. My last three teas have been dreadful. Hope you’re well,
Kathy.
Tosh prints out the reports and gives them to Owen to mull over while he mutilates his latest McDonald’s toy, while she toys with the idea of replying to the e-mail. That Kathy sent her it means either she’s over Tosh using their relationship to gather information about the crime scene, or that John has persuaded her to do so or (most likely) that John isn’t available to e-mail Tosh for her. If the last option it’s likely that Kathy won’t want to hear back from her.
Sod it.
Am sorry to hear about the teas. And we in the Secret Organisation Club (more commonly known as SOC) are well aware of the many advantages of remaining hidden from the public eye, though regret the additional burdens those in the public eye must bear as consequence (if you like, may be able to wangle you a ticket to the next SOC convention - includes three course meal and coerced all night performances from Tom Jones).
Am well, hope despite the foul teas you are too.
Tosh
Having sent that she then goes off to correct Owen on his medical pronunciation. It’s a wonderful wind up, especially when he realises that half the words she’s corrected he was pronouncing right in the first place and she has in fact been making them up as she goes. Some days it’s worth being pelted with McDonald’s toys.
It’s a week and one day later, which is a Thursday, and Thursday evenings for a long time meant going out drinking with Jack. They still do sometimes, when one of them has had a rough day, when Jack feels like just talking at someone for a while, when Tosh wants a break from Kathy. Tonight, however is the nice dinner, much talked about and promised back and forth these last eight days. Things haven’t been great between them the past week, but they haven’t slid further down and away and the dinner itself is surely a good sign.
Unless Kathy’s planning to do the whole letting her down gently bit.
Maybe she should have worn the red top with the beading…
It isn’t actually a “nice” dinner - not that it’s not nice, it’s just not nice; they spent yesterday and this morning negotiating times, which left things a bit late to book in at a fancy restaurant. So instead, they’ve come to Nando’s. Tosh isn’t keen on being so close to work on her night off - if they switch the locater on and find out where she is they’ll feel slightly more justified in having her come there to sort out the problem herself rather than have her give directions over the phone. Not that it’s exclusive to her; they do it to pretty much everybody - she’s ruined more than a few nights on the town with friends for Ianto and made Owen give some girl the cold shoulder earlier than he’d like. She’d probably have called Jack in more than once if he didn’t practically live there.
They order and Kathy has a rant about the press and the general incompetence of some of the DCs she’s got working the case. There haven’t been any more murders, which means no more clues. Tosh has nothing to report either and she’s happy and she’s not that it’s not a lie. It could have been an alien device that caused the marks on the victims’ backs, but it could just as easily have been some kind of weird shaped stun gun. But Jack was suspicious about the way the bodies were being laid out - something to do with an ancient war ritual of Tekasamu, wherever and whenever that was.
They swap stories about John and Owen and then swap chips and potato wedges while Kathy points out they’re basically the same thing. They laugh and smile and talk and Tosh just gets lost in it - for all her angst over the thought of losing Kathy she has actually forgotten how much she loves just being somewhere, nice restaurant or not, together with her and her alone. It’s wonderful, but at the same time it tugs at something inside her chest, makes her feel just that little bit heartsick.
She tells herself it’s just because they haven’t done this for a while, and gets on with mocking Kathy’s taste in cocktails.
Nothing goes horribly wrong until the walk home.
It’s a nice night, so they start to walk back to Kathy’s, because her place is closest, though Kathy keeps remarking it’s probably an absolute tip with nothing edible in the fridge. Tosh just laughs and jokes about how she’s forgotten what it looked like in first place. Halfway there a phone rings. Whoever’s it is, it can’t be good.
It’s Tosh’s.
“Hello?”
“Tosh, I need you and Kathy to get indoors, right now. Just go in whatever building you’re passing now.”
Tosh can’t help but stop and ask, “Why? What’s happening -?”
“Just do it!”
Tosh grabs Kathy’s arm and drags her into the doorway of a newsagents - closed, as it turns out.
“Tosh, what are you doing? Who’s -?”
“It’s Jack, he says to take cover.”
That’s got Kathy’s attention. “Why? What’s happening?”
“What’s going on?” Tosh asks Jack.
“Are you inside?”
“No, nearest the doorway’s locked -”
“Then break in! You need to get Kathy out of the way for this!”
Tosh’s blood doesn’t run cold, but the temperature seems to drop. “What’s happening?” she repeats, and can hear the panic in her own voice.
“Kathy’s murderer is coming your way, armed and dangerous. You’re not to intercept, and make sure that Kathy doesn’t either.”
“What’s he saying?” Kathy demands.
Tosh jerks her head at the door. “Break it open. We need to get out of the way.”
“What of?”
Almost in answer there’s a loud bang and pieces of what might have been a wheelie bin or a garden fence soar over the roofs the quiet houses, smashing and shattering apart like fireworks as they hit the ground.
Tosh and Kathy have both jumped away, backing away as far as the wall will let them. “What the hell was that?”
Some kind of energy weapon - Toshiko’s seen examples in the archives’ microfilm; small handheld devices, sometimes like a large combination lock that suckers itself on whatever you want to drain energy from, or a weird looking hairdryer. Just attach it to something and allow it to drain the energy out of it and then fire it as you choose. So much about the crime scenes suddenly makes sense. Bodies didn’t appear older or sicker than they had done in life because most energy of this kind were meant for use on machinery - as far as she knew surprisingly few civilisations have been able to develop one that was capable of absorbing organic energies, and from what she’s seen of those that have they are (were, given that most of them were destroyed in the Canary Warf cross fire) unreliable, probably only just capable of stealing enough energy to kill someone. It all makes sense.
There’s no time to share this latest realisation with Kathy, though; there’s another bang, which has drawn some out of their houses, standing stock still and staring whilst more fragments - this time what looks like pieces of hedge and garden wall - rain down on their gardens.
That’s when Kathy springs into action.
“Get back inside!” she yells, managing to look confident and in control even when her strides forward are stilted and hesitant while she scans the sky. “I’m Chief Inspector Swanson with the police, I need you all to get back inside, there is a situation -”
“Kathy!” Tosh screams.
Fragments of paving slabs fly up and in all directions from the end of the street they were walking down minutes earlier. One narrowly misses Kathy, but people seem to be getting the message, scuttling back to watch from the relative safety of their doorways. Tosh darts out and grabs Kathy’s arm, trying to drag her back “Come on! We need to -”
Tosh is saved from finishing that sentence by a young man who comes skidding around the corner, checking and double checking over his shoulder. Jack, coat trailing heroically after him, is not far behind.
“What’s he doing?” Kathy asks.
Tosh shoves at her. “C’mon, we need to get out of the way -”
“Why, is he some kind of terrorist or -”
“Just move!” she snaps, giving Kathy a hard shove. Kathy does so, more out of surprise than anything else. They start down the street at a run, though no other garden items seem to be being hurled up into the air. Tosh looks back to see something - something very alien - dangling from one of the young man’s hands. Watches as he stops to smack it down onto the road, and as the tarmac seems to ripple -
She’s so caught up in watching that she runs straight into the back of Kathy. She turns to ask why they’ve stopped, only to see the Torchwood SUV ploughing toward them. One of the back doors opens as it swerves sharply, coming to a stop in front of them. Ianto leans out the back, reaching for Tosh’s arm. “Get in, quickly!”
They scramble in, Kathy hustling Tosh in first and the car drives off again. Given the amount of swerving, Owen is probably the one driving. There’s another loud bang behind them and yet more weaving as chunks of tarmac burst into the air and fall to earth in perfect arcs.
Tosh is already wondering how they’re going to be able to cover this one up without using terrorists (useful as this excuse is, given that the police consider them some kind of special ops branch, as Jack points it used too many times it could make the populace get paranoid and there’s enough about terrorists in the media frightening everyone to death without them adding to it), considers fireworks and goes to offer this up as an excuse to Kathy.
Except Kathy no longer seems immediately bothered about what’s causing the little explosions.
“What the hell are you doing? You’ve left Jack! We have to go back.”
Gwen turns in the passenger seat (it is Owen driving, then) and frowns, “Why would we need to -” and then her eyes fall on Kathy, and she shuts up.
“He could be injured, if he’s not dead! For God’s sake, why aren’t you turning around?”
Owen does a ninety degree spin, coming to a screeching halt. “Sit tight,” he snaps as Kathy reaches for the door. “Jack will tell us when.”
Which probably isn’t the best thing to say - there’s little love lost between Kathy and Jack, but she really hates Owen. Her face twists into a sneer. “And how exactly is he going to “tell us when” if he’s dead?”
Owen’s expression mirrors hers, ready to give her what for, when the radio crackles to life.
“You guys there?”
“Go ahead, Jack,” Gwen tells her Bluetooth.
“Guy tried to blow me up, but he stayed a little too close.”
“He dead?”
“In pieces. We need to get this area cordoned off ASAP. You got Tosh with you?”
“And her girlfriend,” says Owen, glancing back at Kathy with no small amount of distaste.
Jack mutters something which sounds suspiciously like “Shit”, then says, “Get her up here, I need to confirm what this thing is.”
Owen nods then says, “Copy that,” and turns the car around with slightly more care.
Kathy turns to Tosh, the closest to dumbfounded she’s ever seen her. “How did he survive that? I mean, he must have run right into it -”
“Clean up job’s going to be murder,” says Owen, ignoring the eye rolling and glares from his three colleagues, and Kathy’s consternation.
“Clean up -? You can’t just clear all this away! It’s a crime scene -”
“Not anymore,” says Ianto, using villain enunciation. Tosh makes a note to throttle him later.
Kathy’s about to make some remark, when Owen does an unnecessary emergency stop, giving everyone in the car whiplash. They all pile out of the car to find Jack crouching next to the man - who, in Tosh’s medical opinion, looks very dead - cradling the energy weapon in one hand. Owen shoves him out of the way to make his own diagnosis and Jack stands, swaying a little, though batting Ianto and Gwen away from him.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Tosh relaxes at that, until she takes in the very large bloodstain on the front of his shirt, accompanied by a vaguely circular rip, like something was punched through his chest or -
Tosh takes a sideways glance at Kathy, hoping in vain that she hasn’t noticed. From Kathy’s expression it’s the only thing she’s taken in.
Fuck, this is going to be difficult to explain.
“Tosh?” Jack holds the device out to her. It looks like a weird snub-nosed hairdryer and is surprisingly heavy. “What do you think? Some kind of energy transferer or -”
“What’s going on here?” asks Kathy, speaking slightly slower than usual. Never a good sign.
Tosh turns to her then back to Jack. “I should -”
“You take a look at that, see if it matches the marks on the victims.” He gestures to Kathy. “I’m going to need to talk to you, if you don’t mind?”
Kathy eyes him suspiciously, but goes with him slowly to the car where they sit inside and talk. Tosh turns her back and gets on with checking the device out. It certainly looks like an energy transferer, maybe from Arcateen 5. Owen lifts up the back of the man’s shirt and Tosh rests it against his back, pulling it away a few seconds later. The marks are same as the victims. They’ve found Kathy’s serial killer.
Which, Tosh realises, means that either Kathy’s going to get retconned, or they’re finished.
Fuck.
She goes to Jack, and to Kathy, who is sat in the back of the car looking lost and slightly furious about it. However this ends it sure as hell isn’t going to start well.
“Jack?” She offers the device. “Definitely an energy transferer. Looks like it was the murder weapon too -” She’s about to swing into her theory, when Kathy speaks up.
“That’s him? That’s the guy?”
“From what we’ve been able to ascertain it certainly looks that way,” says Jack briskly.
Having been recently let in on the big secret - yes, aliens really do exist, many are hostile, we protect people from them - doesn’t seem to have slowed Kathy up any. “We need to call the station, get them to block off this street and set up -”
Jack’s not even listening. “Gwen, take Ianto and go around door to door. Tell them it was some kids messing around with fireworks, vandalising the roads, whatever sounds plausible.” Gwen nods and follows Ianto who’s already started off down the street. “Owen, put the body in the back, Tosh, go help him.”
Owen walks away, but Tosh lingers, glancing from Kathy to the body but then Jack gives her one of those looks and she just squeezes Kathy’s shoulder and follows Owen, who is surprisingly easy on the smart remarks. Either he hasn’t had enough time to work on them, or he’s realised now really isn’t the time to be making jokes and such about her crumbling relationship whilst Kathy is right there and they’re moving a dead body. The second would be nice. She can’t help suspecting it’s the first.
They wrap the body up and carry it carefully to the back of the SUV, Owen trying to engage her in a “to me, to you”. They get it in the back of the car with moments to spare before the police arrive. Jack recalls Gwen and Ianto over his Bluetooth and vaguely outlines things to the two constables, then DCI Swanson reappears, flashes her ID and barks orders at them to cordon off the area and call in John.
Watching the two of them scuttle off to meekly do her bidding she turns to Jack. “I’ll take things from here,” she says, a certain defiance in her eyes.
“Wouldn’t -” He goes to make a vague gesture, probably toward Tosh, but aborts the movement and just nods. “Okay. If you could think it over and get back to me?”
Kathy nods back and turns on her heel to hurry the unfortunate constables along, not giving Tosh a second glance.
Gwen and Ianto return and report to Jack, each casting politely confused glances in Tosh’s direction, Gwen’s curious, Ianto’s questioning. She ignores them both, staring down the road she’d been walking down with Kathy not half an hour earlier when everything had been going right.
“Tosh?”
She turns.
Owen’s shutting the passenger door, while Ianto and Gwen are each holding their doors open peering out at her. Jack’s paused outside, looking at her expectantly.
“You want to come back, go over the energy transferer?”
She looks at them, looks back at the dark street she’ll have to continue walking up on her own to get home, and then looks back at Jack.
“I’d really rather not.”
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating(s): PG-13
Pairing(s): Toshiko Sato/Kathy Swanson
Summary: There's a serial killer on the loose, but Tosh has other problems.
A/N: Dedicated to atraphoenix, because I've left the other bit of Tosh/Kathy I promised her at home. Title's not mine - nicked from The Grates song "Sukkafish". and, yeah, there maybe a sequel. All depends on my ailing health.
Tosh has heard it said that it’s never as simple as being in love. She used to think she understood it. Maybe she did and all this is just a new perspective, a quick (painful) reminder that it’s never that simple, never that easy and she’s a fool for thinking it, even for a minute.
She went into this relationship in full awareness that it was going to be difficult. They both did. They both knew that it was going to take work. They were good at work, they were brilliant at difficult, and for a while this seemed to transfer over; they were two high-power career women, making a difference in jobs they loved and having a life, sharing it with someone they loved. It was idyllic. Better - it was perfect.
Of course, perfect is a dangerous word and an even more dangerous concept. Perfect is fleeting, given in moments and bite-sized pieces and once you’ve savoured it everything else feels like making do.
And they aren’t even making do, Toshiko realises. Not anymore. Kathy hasn’t been home before Tosh went to bed for nearly a week. Three of those nights she didn’t come home at all. They hadn’t spoken for nearly nine days because they had a rather big row over… something, Tosh can’t quite remember what (which even she knows is a pretty bad sign) and for the two days, before some bright spark down at the station with two and two made four and realised they had a serial killer on their hands, didn’t speak to each other. It wasn’t that difficult; Jack had, through some of his more unsavoury connections, brought a particularly baffling artefact back to the Hub and dumped it on her desk with cheerful instruction that she figure out how dangerous it was. Tosh had dutifully spent almost every waking hour bent over it (only to discover it was the 14th century Alzarian equivalent of a thermos flask) - all they had to do was “forget” to call or text each other.
The relationship’s in dire straights and no mistake. It’s going to take more than a sit down to talk about their feelings and a few evenings snuggled up on the sofa together watching movies and eating ice cream.
It would be a start, though. A baby step in the right direction.
She texts Kathy - still at the station, probably on her fifth tea of the evening, because she hates coffee in any shape or form, and having an argument with John because that’s what they do if they’re in the same room at this time of night - to say “hope you’re okay, love you”, which strikes her, minutes later, as really rather pointless. She puts herself to bed and doesn’t even bother trying to stay awake until Kathy comes home.
The next morning there’s a message on the answering machine, but Tosh doesn’t listen past the first few seconds because it’s from Kathy who is now sat at the kitchen table.
“Went round the flat,” she explains between mouthfuls of Special K, “but I was out of shampoo and cereal stuff. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
Definitely in trouble.
Tosh suggests haltingly her idea of going out for a meal somewhere nice once they’ve wrapped up the serial killer case.
“Wrapped up?” Kathy laughs bitterly. “We’re nowhere near - haven’t even got a suspect for God’s sake.”
“Seriously?” Tosh is really hoping Kathy hasn’t already mentioned this to her.
“We’re still having to convince some of the higher-ups that we’re dealing with the same person. They’re not too keen on the idea of us having a serial killer.”
“I wonder why,” Tosh murmurs, regretting it almost the instant it slips through her lips - then she catches Kathy smiling out of the corner of her eye, so it’s all good.
“I’m thinking,” says Kathy as she appears beside Toshiko to dump her empty bowl and spoon in the sink, “I’m going to be too busy these next few weeks. But dinner sounds nice.”
Tosh smiles. “When you’ve finished, then?”
Kathy tilts her head from side to side, thinking about it. “We’ll see.”
They spend the next week mostly exchanging texts - they can’t get away to meet up and Kathy has no time to phone. Things are going poorly down at the station and the press are butchering them for it.
It really doesn’t help when Gwen, who has been screening crime in the city via newspapers and gossip from a few old friends in the police, finds mention of something unusual; possibility a new alien toy for them to fiddle with. Of course, they need to check out the crime scene. Of which Kathy is in charge.
Tosh ducks out of sight, going into hiding down in the cells which works out very nicely until Jack comes down there looking specifically for her.
“Can’t I stay here? I have some research to do, and the A-dar updates need to be set up.”
“It just needs to be put up and activated - Ianto can handle it.”
“All the same, I’d rather be here to oversee, make sure the system doesn’t suffer any damage -”
“Will you let it go, already? He did it once, and that was back when he and Owen swapped bodies. I’d be thrown off my game if I swapped bodies with Owen. Not nearly as much as Owen would be, but still - I need you.”
“What for? Do we need any searches or cross-referencing done…?” She feigns ignorance, though it’s already occurred to her what he wants to bring her along for; she can already feel his hand at the small of her back about to push her in Kathy’s direction, the murmured order Make nice to the detective already in her ear.
Jack tilts his head, eyes skittering to the side for a moment, then he looks her full in the face. “I need you to ease the liaison with the police down there.”
“That’s what Gwen’s for, isn’t it?” Tosh asks, as though it’s only just occurred to her, starting to walk off to project the notion that she really has got plenty of work to do down here in the underground base, thank you very much. She can’t be dragged away to stop her girlfriend from kicking up a fuss.
There’s a pause, in which Jack probably sighs, but she doesn’t hear it. “Kathy’s in charge.”
“I heard.” She tries to pick up the pace, though the idea that she can somehow outrun him is a severe lapse in judgement on her part. Jack catches her up and meets her stride easily.
“I’d like you to talk to her.”
“About?” She’s never going to be fast enough.
“Crime scene and such.”
Toshiko purses her lips. “Why?” It’s sharp and authoritative, like she’s the one in charge and he’s the subordinate tripping over his own feet trying to keep up, rather than the reality of her trying (and failing miserably) to blank her boss.
She hears him sigh this time and sees him roll his eyes. “You know why,” he says, impatient with her affected ignorance. She can’t really pull it off that well.
Tosh comes to an abrupt halt and is slightly disappointed to find that Jack manages to stop in time with her. “Are you suggesting that I use the private relationship I have with Detective Swanson to influence her for the sole purpose of aiding our investigation?” she asks, giving up on sounding innocently baffled and letting the natural anger come out.
“I’m asking you to go talk to her, find out what you can while we’re checking out the crime scene.”
“After the whole song and dance there was over the fact I was going out with a Detective Inspector? I cannot believe you’re asking me to do this -”
“Ordering, technically, but that’s neither here nor there - I’m asking you because she’s more likely to talk to you, more likely to give up details, little things about the crime scene that have been bothering her -”
“Is Gwen the only one who you want to have a life outside work? She’s a bloody detective, Jack! Don’t you think she might twig what you’re up to?”
“Even when she does she won’t be able to help letting slip one or two things. I need you on this one. You’re coming whether you like it or not.”
There are times this man, who can’t be more than ten years older than her (unless that rumour is actually true, in which case this makes slightly more sense) makes her feel like she’s fourteen again, whining at her Mum. “But Jack -”
“For all we know Kathy’s serial killer could be using this alien device and that’s why it took so long for them to connect the deaths.” He takes a step closer, stooping a little and she wonders if he gets as bored looking down at her as she does looking up at him. “We have a job to do. We might be able to help Kathy do hers too. You’re coming.” He doesn’t need to add and that’s final; it’s all in his tone. He then turns on his heel and strides away, off to rally more troops.
She could call him back and tell him this isn’t a good idea; that she and Kathy aren’t talking much at the moment and she probably doesn’t have nearly as much sway with her as Jack seems to think. She could and probably should, for the sake of her relationship if nothing else. But she doesn’t. It could be pride. It could be that jealous need for privacy in what little of her life she can call her own. It could be Jack’s actually gotten to her with some of his reasons. Could be.
It seems ironic somehow that she would, if she ever needed to, be able to tell an alien using mathematical formulae “I love you” and so often has no idea what’s going on in her own head. It just doesn’t seem fair.
Kathy is not amused.
“I need this, Toshiko. Every second we have here is vital, you know that. I can’t have your lot trampling in and screwing up evidence.”
Toshiko swallows. “We can just send Gwen in - she has experience in crime scenes, so long as it’s all marked out she’ll know what to leave alone -”
“It’s a fucking crime scene, she shouldn’t be taking anything!”
This turns a few heads, and Tosh takes the opportunity to glare at Jack. Turning back to Kathy, Toshiko says, “We think there may be something here relevant to a case we’re currently working on -”
“And your case is more important than mine, is that it?”
“I’m not saying anything like that and you know it!” Toshiko snaps. “I’m asking you to turn over your crime scene to us for a few moments, because we have a case which may well cross over with your serial killer; we solve our case you could solve yours and if not, we’re out of your hair for another week.”
Kathy purses her lips, no doubt restraining herself from passing comment, or mentioning that Toshiko isn’t asking her, but ordering her. She instead gives Toshiko a hard cold stare and signals to a nearby policeman to let them through.
Jack, Gwen and Owen continue in, but Toshiko remains behind.
“Not going in?” asks Kathy snidely.
“The fewer people mucking up the crime scene the better, right? I’m not necessary.”
“Except for chatting up the Detective in charge to let people in.” Her tone is bitter and accusing.
Toshiko stares at her feet. “I was told to come in case Jack needed me to cross reference -”
If Tosh were thinking she wouldn’t mention Jack. Kathy hates Jack, and hates even more how Tosh trusts and obeys him - or, as Kathy puts it “follows him blindly”. It’s not jealousy; it’s just one of those things that makes Kathy respect her a little less.
“Oh, and Jack knows best, doesn’t he?” Kathy feels Jack is unsuited to his position - or rather, what she perceives is his position - and has suggested more than once that he won command of Torchwood Cardiff in a game of cards. Tosh is careful not to express how close to the truth she suspects Kathy is.
Tosh doesn’t say anything and they stand in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Toshiko wavers between asking her and not asking her. On the one hand it will probably alienate Kathy - at the very least it will anger her and she has no desire to be slapped in public by her girlfriend, especially in front of their colleagues. On the other hand it is her job, something she takes pride in and must do to the best of her abilities, girlfriend or no girlfriend. Going back to the first hand, Jack’s already had her use her personal life as leverage on this investigation. Why should she push it any further? Back on the second hand it could help lead to this serial killer, if indeed the killer is using alien tech.
With no small amount of reluctance Tosh clears her throat and says, “I’d like to hear about the crime scene. The body, when it was found, by who, that kind of thing. If that’s okay.”
Kathy gives her the kind of filthy look she usually saves for Jack, lips twitching to curl into a sneer. “If I must.” She begins to outline the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the body, adds the names and contact details of the people Tosh is going to have to climb over to get to the files. Tosh notes them all down and wonders how the hell they’ve come to this.
“Something up with your face?”
Toshiko can’t help it. Her eyes roll and she sighs heavily. It’s a conditioned response to Owen when one is in a bad mood. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re pouting,” says Owen, demonstrating in what Tosh hopes for his health and safety in the immediate future is an exaggeration.
“So?”
Owen’s turn to roll his eyes, though Tosh is damned if she knows why. “So, I was wondering why.” He cocks his head. “Man troubles? No, wait - girl troubles.”
“It’s none of your business.” She makes a point of staring intently at the screen hoping he’d just shut up and leave her alone.
“Ha! Thought so! What’s up? Sexual strife, please say it’s sexual strife, go on -”
“Haven’t you got work to do?”
“Probably. You fall out over ice cream flavours again? Did you two actually do that or was that a dream?”
“Owen! I mean it, not in the mood right now.”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “That what the problem is?”
Tosh grits her teeth. “If you want someone to giggle over smutty innuendoes with you, Gwen’s up in the TIC.”
That does the trick. Owen narrows his eyes and slides off the chair. “Y’know, I’ve just remembered. Mountain of paperwork to get through. Can’t stop to hear about your pathetic sex life.” And the minute he slopes off Tosh feels terrible. Not that calling him back or apologising is going to make any difference; he’ll be sulking over this until tomorrow at the very least whatever she does. Best to just get on with her work and keep her mouth shut. Not that there’s anyone much to not talk to; Jack is apparently roaming the archives and everyone else seems holed up in the TIC. Maybe the new shelving’s come in.
She has the files e-mailed to her very pointedly from John rather than Kathy and scans them for mentions of anything out of the ordinary. It’s easy to see why it took them so long to link the deaths together; on the surface they have next to nothing in common. Different victims, different MOs. Tosh has seen enough police dramas to know it doesn’t add up, and heard enough about it from Kathy -
Kathy who probably isn’t going to be even texting her for the next day or two. Their last thread of communication, the one thing upon which their continued relationship was relying…
Tosh puts her head in her hands for a moment, wondering vaguely how she’s managed alienate pretty much everyone.
There’s a soft clack somewhere to her left and she looks up to see Ianto settling himself in the chair next to her. “I brought coffee,” he offers, nodding to the steaming mug on the desk.
Tosh tries to smile back and takes a sip. “Decaffeinated?”
Ianto looks a little surprised. “Owen said you wanted some -” He trails off, misreading Toshiko’s expression. “He getting bored again? Because I can always delegate more paperwork his way -”
Tosh shakes her head. “Don’t. I - I got a bit - I said something I didn’t mean. Well, I meant it, but I shouldn’t have said it.”
Ianto frowned, then smirked. “You haven’t swapped bodies, have you? This isn’t you, is it, Owen?”
Tosh smiles wryly. “You wish.”
“No I don’t. Really, I don’t.”
Tosh lets out a huff of laughter, but the frown comes back.
Ianto leans in. “What’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing,” he adds as Tosh started to shake her head.
“It’s…” She stops and starts again. “It’s not nothing. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ianto pauses. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, or -”
“I think I’d rather be left alone.”
Ianto pauses again, then nods. “Okay.” He stands awkwardly. “Okay. I’ll just be up there.” He goes a few steps and turns again. “If you want anything -”
Tosh nods and watches him go.
Best to just leave everything alone for now.
It’s been two days. Owen’s still making smart remarks to her and about her within her earshot, but is also talking to her again, so all’s well there. Kathy has deigned to send an e-mail to Tosh herself with autopsy reports attached.
The e-mail reads:
Hope you’re making some headway (and if so, please feel free to share). Press are being nasty little guttersnipes, as per usual. You secret organisations don’t know how lucky you are. My last three teas have been dreadful. Hope you’re well,
Kathy.
Tosh prints out the reports and gives them to Owen to mull over while he mutilates his latest McDonald’s toy, while she toys with the idea of replying to the e-mail. That Kathy sent her it means either she’s over Tosh using their relationship to gather information about the crime scene, or that John has persuaded her to do so or (most likely) that John isn’t available to e-mail Tosh for her. If the last option it’s likely that Kathy won’t want to hear back from her.
Sod it.
Am sorry to hear about the teas. And we in the Secret Organisation Club (more commonly known as SOC) are well aware of the many advantages of remaining hidden from the public eye, though regret the additional burdens those in the public eye must bear as consequence (if you like, may be able to wangle you a ticket to the next SOC convention - includes three course meal and coerced all night performances from Tom Jones).
Am well, hope despite the foul teas you are too.
Tosh
Having sent that she then goes off to correct Owen on his medical pronunciation. It’s a wonderful wind up, especially when he realises that half the words she’s corrected he was pronouncing right in the first place and she has in fact been making them up as she goes. Some days it’s worth being pelted with McDonald’s toys.
It’s a week and one day later, which is a Thursday, and Thursday evenings for a long time meant going out drinking with Jack. They still do sometimes, when one of them has had a rough day, when Jack feels like just talking at someone for a while, when Tosh wants a break from Kathy. Tonight, however is the nice dinner, much talked about and promised back and forth these last eight days. Things haven’t been great between them the past week, but they haven’t slid further down and away and the dinner itself is surely a good sign.
Unless Kathy’s planning to do the whole letting her down gently bit.
Maybe she should have worn the red top with the beading…
It isn’t actually a “nice” dinner - not that it’s not nice, it’s just not nice; they spent yesterday and this morning negotiating times, which left things a bit late to book in at a fancy restaurant. So instead, they’ve come to Nando’s. Tosh isn’t keen on being so close to work on her night off - if they switch the locater on and find out where she is they’ll feel slightly more justified in having her come there to sort out the problem herself rather than have her give directions over the phone. Not that it’s exclusive to her; they do it to pretty much everybody - she’s ruined more than a few nights on the town with friends for Ianto and made Owen give some girl the cold shoulder earlier than he’d like. She’d probably have called Jack in more than once if he didn’t practically live there.
They order and Kathy has a rant about the press and the general incompetence of some of the DCs she’s got working the case. There haven’t been any more murders, which means no more clues. Tosh has nothing to report either and she’s happy and she’s not that it’s not a lie. It could have been an alien device that caused the marks on the victims’ backs, but it could just as easily have been some kind of weird shaped stun gun. But Jack was suspicious about the way the bodies were being laid out - something to do with an ancient war ritual of Tekasamu, wherever and whenever that was.
They swap stories about John and Owen and then swap chips and potato wedges while Kathy points out they’re basically the same thing. They laugh and smile and talk and Tosh just gets lost in it - for all her angst over the thought of losing Kathy she has actually forgotten how much she loves just being somewhere, nice restaurant or not, together with her and her alone. It’s wonderful, but at the same time it tugs at something inside her chest, makes her feel just that little bit heartsick.
She tells herself it’s just because they haven’t done this for a while, and gets on with mocking Kathy’s taste in cocktails.
Nothing goes horribly wrong until the walk home.
It’s a nice night, so they start to walk back to Kathy’s, because her place is closest, though Kathy keeps remarking it’s probably an absolute tip with nothing edible in the fridge. Tosh just laughs and jokes about how she’s forgotten what it looked like in first place. Halfway there a phone rings. Whoever’s it is, it can’t be good.
It’s Tosh’s.
“Hello?”
“Tosh, I need you and Kathy to get indoors, right now. Just go in whatever building you’re passing now.”
Tosh can’t help but stop and ask, “Why? What’s happening -?”
“Just do it!”
Tosh grabs Kathy’s arm and drags her into the doorway of a newsagents - closed, as it turns out.
“Tosh, what are you doing? Who’s -?”
“It’s Jack, he says to take cover.”
That’s got Kathy’s attention. “Why? What’s happening?”
“What’s going on?” Tosh asks Jack.
“Are you inside?”
“No, nearest the doorway’s locked -”
“Then break in! You need to get Kathy out of the way for this!”
Tosh’s blood doesn’t run cold, but the temperature seems to drop. “What’s happening?” she repeats, and can hear the panic in her own voice.
“Kathy’s murderer is coming your way, armed and dangerous. You’re not to intercept, and make sure that Kathy doesn’t either.”
“What’s he saying?” Kathy demands.
Tosh jerks her head at the door. “Break it open. We need to get out of the way.”
“What of?”
Almost in answer there’s a loud bang and pieces of what might have been a wheelie bin or a garden fence soar over the roofs the quiet houses, smashing and shattering apart like fireworks as they hit the ground.
Tosh and Kathy have both jumped away, backing away as far as the wall will let them. “What the hell was that?”
Some kind of energy weapon - Toshiko’s seen examples in the archives’ microfilm; small handheld devices, sometimes like a large combination lock that suckers itself on whatever you want to drain energy from, or a weird looking hairdryer. Just attach it to something and allow it to drain the energy out of it and then fire it as you choose. So much about the crime scenes suddenly makes sense. Bodies didn’t appear older or sicker than they had done in life because most energy of this kind were meant for use on machinery - as far as she knew surprisingly few civilisations have been able to develop one that was capable of absorbing organic energies, and from what she’s seen of those that have they are (were, given that most of them were destroyed in the Canary Warf cross fire) unreliable, probably only just capable of stealing enough energy to kill someone. It all makes sense.
There’s no time to share this latest realisation with Kathy, though; there’s another bang, which has drawn some out of their houses, standing stock still and staring whilst more fragments - this time what looks like pieces of hedge and garden wall - rain down on their gardens.
That’s when Kathy springs into action.
“Get back inside!” she yells, managing to look confident and in control even when her strides forward are stilted and hesitant while she scans the sky. “I’m Chief Inspector Swanson with the police, I need you all to get back inside, there is a situation -”
“Kathy!” Tosh screams.
Fragments of paving slabs fly up and in all directions from the end of the street they were walking down minutes earlier. One narrowly misses Kathy, but people seem to be getting the message, scuttling back to watch from the relative safety of their doorways. Tosh darts out and grabs Kathy’s arm, trying to drag her back “Come on! We need to -”
Tosh is saved from finishing that sentence by a young man who comes skidding around the corner, checking and double checking over his shoulder. Jack, coat trailing heroically after him, is not far behind.
“What’s he doing?” Kathy asks.
Tosh shoves at her. “C’mon, we need to get out of the way -”
“Why, is he some kind of terrorist or -”
“Just move!” she snaps, giving Kathy a hard shove. Kathy does so, more out of surprise than anything else. They start down the street at a run, though no other garden items seem to be being hurled up into the air. Tosh looks back to see something - something very alien - dangling from one of the young man’s hands. Watches as he stops to smack it down onto the road, and as the tarmac seems to ripple -
She’s so caught up in watching that she runs straight into the back of Kathy. She turns to ask why they’ve stopped, only to see the Torchwood SUV ploughing toward them. One of the back doors opens as it swerves sharply, coming to a stop in front of them. Ianto leans out the back, reaching for Tosh’s arm. “Get in, quickly!”
They scramble in, Kathy hustling Tosh in first and the car drives off again. Given the amount of swerving, Owen is probably the one driving. There’s another loud bang behind them and yet more weaving as chunks of tarmac burst into the air and fall to earth in perfect arcs.
Tosh is already wondering how they’re going to be able to cover this one up without using terrorists (useful as this excuse is, given that the police consider them some kind of special ops branch, as Jack points it used too many times it could make the populace get paranoid and there’s enough about terrorists in the media frightening everyone to death without them adding to it), considers fireworks and goes to offer this up as an excuse to Kathy.
Except Kathy no longer seems immediately bothered about what’s causing the little explosions.
“What the hell are you doing? You’ve left Jack! We have to go back.”
Gwen turns in the passenger seat (it is Owen driving, then) and frowns, “Why would we need to -” and then her eyes fall on Kathy, and she shuts up.
“He could be injured, if he’s not dead! For God’s sake, why aren’t you turning around?”
Owen does a ninety degree spin, coming to a screeching halt. “Sit tight,” he snaps as Kathy reaches for the door. “Jack will tell us when.”
Which probably isn’t the best thing to say - there’s little love lost between Kathy and Jack, but she really hates Owen. Her face twists into a sneer. “And how exactly is he going to “tell us when” if he’s dead?”
Owen’s expression mirrors hers, ready to give her what for, when the radio crackles to life.
“You guys there?”
“Go ahead, Jack,” Gwen tells her Bluetooth.
“Guy tried to blow me up, but he stayed a little too close.”
“He dead?”
“In pieces. We need to get this area cordoned off ASAP. You got Tosh with you?”
“And her girlfriend,” says Owen, glancing back at Kathy with no small amount of distaste.
Jack mutters something which sounds suspiciously like “Shit”, then says, “Get her up here, I need to confirm what this thing is.”
Owen nods then says, “Copy that,” and turns the car around with slightly more care.
Kathy turns to Tosh, the closest to dumbfounded she’s ever seen her. “How did he survive that? I mean, he must have run right into it -”
“Clean up job’s going to be murder,” says Owen, ignoring the eye rolling and glares from his three colleagues, and Kathy’s consternation.
“Clean up -? You can’t just clear all this away! It’s a crime scene -”
“Not anymore,” says Ianto, using villain enunciation. Tosh makes a note to throttle him later.
Kathy’s about to make some remark, when Owen does an unnecessary emergency stop, giving everyone in the car whiplash. They all pile out of the car to find Jack crouching next to the man - who, in Tosh’s medical opinion, looks very dead - cradling the energy weapon in one hand. Owen shoves him out of the way to make his own diagnosis and Jack stands, swaying a little, though batting Ianto and Gwen away from him.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Tosh relaxes at that, until she takes in the very large bloodstain on the front of his shirt, accompanied by a vaguely circular rip, like something was punched through his chest or -
Tosh takes a sideways glance at Kathy, hoping in vain that she hasn’t noticed. From Kathy’s expression it’s the only thing she’s taken in.
Fuck, this is going to be difficult to explain.
“Tosh?” Jack holds the device out to her. It looks like a weird snub-nosed hairdryer and is surprisingly heavy. “What do you think? Some kind of energy transferer or -”
“What’s going on here?” asks Kathy, speaking slightly slower than usual. Never a good sign.
Tosh turns to her then back to Jack. “I should -”
“You take a look at that, see if it matches the marks on the victims.” He gestures to Kathy. “I’m going to need to talk to you, if you don’t mind?”
Kathy eyes him suspiciously, but goes with him slowly to the car where they sit inside and talk. Tosh turns her back and gets on with checking the device out. It certainly looks like an energy transferer, maybe from Arcateen 5. Owen lifts up the back of the man’s shirt and Tosh rests it against his back, pulling it away a few seconds later. The marks are same as the victims. They’ve found Kathy’s serial killer.
Which, Tosh realises, means that either Kathy’s going to get retconned, or they’re finished.
Fuck.
She goes to Jack, and to Kathy, who is sat in the back of the car looking lost and slightly furious about it. However this ends it sure as hell isn’t going to start well.
“Jack?” She offers the device. “Definitely an energy transferer. Looks like it was the murder weapon too -” She’s about to swing into her theory, when Kathy speaks up.
“That’s him? That’s the guy?”
“From what we’ve been able to ascertain it certainly looks that way,” says Jack briskly.
Having been recently let in on the big secret - yes, aliens really do exist, many are hostile, we protect people from them - doesn’t seem to have slowed Kathy up any. “We need to call the station, get them to block off this street and set up -”
Jack’s not even listening. “Gwen, take Ianto and go around door to door. Tell them it was some kids messing around with fireworks, vandalising the roads, whatever sounds plausible.” Gwen nods and follows Ianto who’s already started off down the street. “Owen, put the body in the back, Tosh, go help him.”
Owen walks away, but Tosh lingers, glancing from Kathy to the body but then Jack gives her one of those looks and she just squeezes Kathy’s shoulder and follows Owen, who is surprisingly easy on the smart remarks. Either he hasn’t had enough time to work on them, or he’s realised now really isn’t the time to be making jokes and such about her crumbling relationship whilst Kathy is right there and they’re moving a dead body. The second would be nice. She can’t help suspecting it’s the first.
They wrap the body up and carry it carefully to the back of the SUV, Owen trying to engage her in a “to me, to you”. They get it in the back of the car with moments to spare before the police arrive. Jack recalls Gwen and Ianto over his Bluetooth and vaguely outlines things to the two constables, then DCI Swanson reappears, flashes her ID and barks orders at them to cordon off the area and call in John.
Watching the two of them scuttle off to meekly do her bidding she turns to Jack. “I’ll take things from here,” she says, a certain defiance in her eyes.
“Wouldn’t -” He goes to make a vague gesture, probably toward Tosh, but aborts the movement and just nods. “Okay. If you could think it over and get back to me?”
Kathy nods back and turns on her heel to hurry the unfortunate constables along, not giving Tosh a second glance.
Gwen and Ianto return and report to Jack, each casting politely confused glances in Tosh’s direction, Gwen’s curious, Ianto’s questioning. She ignores them both, staring down the road she’d been walking down with Kathy not half an hour earlier when everything had been going right.
“Tosh?”
She turns.
Owen’s shutting the passenger door, while Ianto and Gwen are each holding their doors open peering out at her. Jack’s paused outside, looking at her expectantly.
“You want to come back, go over the energy transferer?”
She looks at them, looks back at the dark street she’ll have to continue walking up on her own to get home, and then looks back at Jack.
“I’d really rather not.”