Bittersweetness 1/1
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. BBC does. And Mr. Davies, of course. Everyone knows the drill.
Rating: T
Pairing: Jack/Gwen...kinda.
Spoilers: Umm...general stuff after Reset
Warning: Without trying to toot my own horn...you might need a tissue. This story has more sap than a maple tree.
A/N: Hope you like this. It's...bittersweet one-shot that came to me while I was trying to write chapter five of my other story (here comes the shameless plug), The Compass.
I don't know if anyone's done a story about this yet...if they have, I haven't come across it yet. So I'm sorry if it looks like I'm cribbing someone else's work...I swear to all things holy I'm not plagiarizing.
Bittersweetness
Gwen Williams was propped up in her hospital bed by a multitude of pillows. Bouquets of flowers covered every available surface surrounding her, her family's attempt to bring colour and warmth to the otherwise drab hospital room. But even though the room itself was inherently lifeless, it was a room with a view and her grandson Jack had been kind enough to pull the blinds back enough for her to see out.
She stared out that window now, her lips slightly parted as she called up some memory or other, of Andy and their days in the police together; of Tosh and Ianto, both gone now. Of Owen, the only zombie she could actually say she'd ever cared for. Of Carys and Ben, her daughter and son-in-law, and their own son Jack...and Rhys, who'd been gone for ten very long years.
“Hello, Gwen,” a man said from the door way. Gwen turned her eyes from the window and smiled widely.
“Jack Harkness,” she said, her voice a feeble whisper. It no longer carried the same strength as he remembered, though her eyes were as alert as ever. Her smile was a ghost of the smile she used to have, but it still transformed her face into a thing of beauty, even with the wrinkles. “The years have been far kinder to you than to me.”
“What can I say?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “I'm just too good looking to die.”
Gwen laughed, but it turned into a hacking cough. Jack was at her side in an instant, offering her a glass of water. She took a sip, and he put the glass back down on the table.
“I have my grandmother's hands,” she said ruefully, looking at her hands next to Jack's. “I never thought I'd have my grandmother's hands.”
Jack took one in his own hand. They were as soft and as smooth as satin, the nails trimmed, the joints knobby and arthritic. They were smaller than he remembered. She'd lost some weight since he'd seen her last.
“I'm glad you've come,” Gwen added when it was clear that Jack couldn't think of anything else to say. “The doctors say I haven't much time left, though Carys refuses to believe them.”
“She always was as headstrong as her mother,” Jack said.
“And as tenacious as her father. How is she holding up at Torchwood? She never says; I think she thinks it'll upset me.”
“She's as fine an officer as we could ever hope for,” Jack said, his voice full of pride. “She keeps us all in check, just as you did.”
Gwen smiled. “Just keep her safe for me. And young Jack.”
Jack leaned in, and brushed a strand of silver hair away from Gwen's face.
“Always,” he said.
They sat in companionable silence for some time.
“Jack,” Gwen began a while later. “I never did tell you.”
“I know,” Jack answered, knowing what Gwen was going to confess. He'd waited thirty-five years to hear it from Gwen herself, but she'd never said. Not even after Rhys had died. “I think I knew before you did,” he added with a small smile.
“Mmph. Maybe.”
“Did Rhys ever find out?”
“Oh, I think he knew,” Gwen said, waving an i.v. laden hand. “But he was good about it. He never let it show.”
“And...?”
“I told her when Rhys died - though she'd known for a lot longer, she said.”
Jack paled a little. “She never mentioned it to me.”
“And she wouldn't,” Gwen said. Her laugh turned into a cough again. Jack helped her take another drink.
When Jack turned back from putting the cup down, Gwen was smiling again.
“I'm glad I got to see you, one last time before I step into the darkness,” Gwen said.
“Gwen,” he began.
“Now, don't,” she said, cutting him off. “I've had a good life. I've seen things that most people never get to see, have encountered aliens, have saved the world...how many old biddies such as myself get to say that, eh?”
She put a hand on his face. He covered it with his own.
“Everything has its time, and everything dies, remember?”
“Except me,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Except you,” Gwen agreed. “For whatever reason, you linger on. At least you have Owen to keep you company.”
Jack laughed, but there was no humour in it.
“I'm going to miss you, Gwen Cooper,” Jack said, using her maiden name. She smiled to hear it; she hadn't been Gwen Cooper for nearly forty years. He felt his eyes burning, but fought back the tears that threatened to follow.
“And I you, Jack Harkness,” she answered. “You should know,” she said a moment later. “I never regretted what we did. Not once.”
He shook his head, unable to speak.
“How could I?” she continued. “With all the good that came of it, our one brief moment in time...”
Her eyes started to drift close.
“Can you help me with my pillows, Jack? I'm getting tired.”
“Of course,” he said. He helped her shift her pillows, helped her lie down and pulled the blankets up around her shoulders to keep her warm. “That better?”
“Yes,” she grinned widely. The gap in her teeth, no matter the advancements in dentistry in the last forty odd years, had never been fixed. It had become too much a part of her personality. She sighed. “Much better. You will stay with me, while I sleep?”
“Of course,” Jack replied.
“And you'll be here when I wake up?”
He smoothed her silver hair back from her face again, and leaned in to plant a kiss on her brow.
“I'll be here,” he said.
“Good.” Gwen seemed contented with that, and her eyes drifted shut. “I love you, Jack,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” Jack answered.
Gwen sighed, and went to sleep.
Two hours later, a tall young woman with black hair and startling blue eyes paused in the door. She leaned on the door frame, and smiled at the scene inside.
“You're not bothering Mam, are you?” she asked lightly, her voice pitched low to make sure she didn't wake the woman on the bed. The man at her mother's bedside looked up from where he was clutching her mother's hand in his own. He said nothing, but Carys read from his stricken features what had happened.
She took a hesitant step into the room.
“Was it peaceful?” she asked quietly. She wasn't quite willing to believe, just yet, that the body on the bed before her had been her mother not too long ago, or that her mother wasn't just sleeping. But it was clear that Gwen's spirit was no longer present.
Jack nodded. He couldn't speak. His throat felt thick. Carys came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Jack reached up and covered it with his own.
“I'm glad you were with her,” Carys said, her own eyes filled with unshed tears.
Jack nodded.
“You'll be with me, when my time comes?”
He nodded again, not trusting his voice.
“Thank you,” she said. She leaned down and kissed the top of her boss' head. “Thank you, Father.”
A/N: Was that as subtle as I hoped it was? I'm guessing not, but I suppose it doesn't matter. I just hope you liked it.