Fic: Holding On (Torchwood)
Title: Holding On
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13. Some swearing, but no sex.
Characters/Pairing: Gwen, mainly, and the rest of the team. Gwen/Rhys.
Length: ~5700 words.
Summary: Rhys doesn't get resurrected, and Jack gets the hell out of Dodge as soon as he hears the TARDIS. Gwen and the team have to start figuring things out on their own. AU from "End of Days," with brief allusions to various things that happen after.
Author's Note: This started out over two years ago. The original piece ( i breathe your breath) was completely written in December of 2007, and I set it aside the very next day. A death in the family pretty much meant that I couldn't even bear to look at it, because thematically it was just too raw. halfamoon inspired me to actually post it in February of 2008.
Then, after that, I just really loved the idea of the team coming together in Jack's absence, especially with Gwen in a leadership role, and I was interested to see where Gwen would go from there, so I started expanding it in late 2008. I put it down for over a year because of general school and life craziness, but I dusted it back off for this year's halfamoon -- I was reminded of it by a prompt in the Impromptuthon by sunnyrea, asking for fic where Gwen was in charge while Jack was gone. And here it is, expanded and renamed.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Torchwood or its characters.
~~~
She held Jack in that deadened field, after Abaddon, and cried in fear and in despair. And, in some part, one that she'd never admit to, her tears fell in relief. The Rift was closed; Jack had saved them. He'd saved them all. It was the way things worked. It was a return to normal.
But at what cost, some fearful part of her asked as she brushed the hair from Jack's forehead, her hands wet with saltwater. She ignored the suggestion, and instead smoothed out the wrinkles in Jack's shirt. He would wake up; she'd seen him do it before, and this time would be no different. She believed in him. If nothing else, she believed in Jack Harkness.
She wasn't sure how long she'd sat, cradling Jack in her arms - minutes? hours? - but her sobbing had stopped sometime before, and she was rocking him gently, soothingly, occasionally whimpering still, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She was dimly aware of Ianto falling to his knees beside them with a broken sob and of Owen's hand reaching for one of Jack's wrists. She only took notice when someone took Jack from her and she was pulled to her feet. Someone - Toshiko - murmured something gentle, but it didn't penetrate into Gwen's mind except as background noise. Her gaze never left Jack's face, watching for the smallest of movements.
She and Ianto were herded to the SUV, and when they were back at the Hub, she went about smoothing the wrinkles from Jack's shirt and brushing the hair from his brow once again. When that was done, she turned around to ask Ianto if he wouldn't mind sitting alone with Jack for a spell while she ran home for just a moment - she was aware he was behind her; she could feel the weight of his presence at her back - and then she saw not only Ianto, with eyes only for Jack, but Tosh, who was pale and scared and fidgeting nervously, and Owen, who would not look at either Jack or her. Gwen's gaze focused on something behind them down in the autopsy bay, and she screamed.
Rhys had not moved.
~~~
She is crying hard. There is blood, still, covering him, and he is still unmoving. Rhys isn't moving, isn't awake, isn't breathing. This is all she knows.
She can't breathe but for the wailing cries being ripped from her throat. Her knees unlock and will no longer support her; they have betrayed her, too. Strong arms catch her, and she's not sure who is holding her - a stray thought steals across her mind that it'd better not be Owen - but she won't tear her eyes from Rhys's body, and she can't breathe. She feels like she's coming out of her skin, and she can't move. She feels herself being lowered to the floor, and she feels Tosh's cool hands on the sides of her face, and suddenly all she can see is Tosh's face. Toshiko's lips are moving, but she comprehends nothing. Tosh presses her hands harder against her cheeks, her face becoming more insistent. Gwen struggles to focus, makes out a single word. Breathe.
She can't breathe.
~~~
She sits, between the two of them. Sometimes she paces, walks around the morgue, checks to feel their pulses. She hasn't felt a beat yet. Ianto's brought in two chairs, and they sit, not talking. She holds Rhys's hand for hours, but she has no tears left, and he has made no movements. She watches Jack closely, too, but she does not turn her back on Rhys to do so. She thinks Ianto understands.
She changes her mind when Ianto leaves their vigil after the first day. Perhaps he continues it in another place, but it is out of the scope of her sight - she can see only two men: her boyfriend, and the man who brought her into this strange, harsh world. Ianto is neither.
Someone has brought her coffee while she was taking a turn around the morgue. She finds it sitting beside her chair, and she nearly vomits, the smell is so intense. It quickly disappears, and she thinks she hears Ianto scolding someone far away from where she is.
Toshiko brings her watered-down juice and forces the glass into her hand. Tosh whispers words of encouragement, but Gwen chokes on the liquid, her throat closing off as it hits her tongue. The glass slips through her fingers and shatters, red juice coating white tile. Her mind slams her back to Rhys, to finding him in the kitchen, by the cells, in the autopsy bay. She retches, bringing up precisely nothing. Her stomach is empty.
Later, Owen comes up behind her. Gwen can feel his presence as sharply as always. She ignores him, pointedly fidgeting with Rhys's blood-stiff shirt. She hears Tosh shoo him away, and she feels empty all the more.
Ianto brings her tasteless broth. Please try to eat, he says gently, you're making the others nervous; they don't understand. He touches her wrist, so lightly she almost wouldn't have noticed if she weren't so super-attuned to her immediate surroundings. Her hand is holding Jack's, and she is surprised that Ianto touched her. Softly, he tells her to wait until it's lukewarm, it'll be easier that way. She wonders vaguely why he's worried about her burning her mouth - she reaches absently towards the bowl, only to snap her hand back when she feels the heat rolling off from the broth in sharp contrast against the temperature of Rhys and Jack's skin.
She decides to follow Ianto's advice. He's done this before, she remembers.
~~~
After three days' time, she kisses Jack goodbye, knowing - and ignoring - that she might soon be doing the same with Rhys. Three days is enough time spent split between the two; she has to make a choice.
It is not a choice, precisely. It was always coming to this, and there is no other way for her to go, lest she be permanently divided.
She chooses Rhys.
She kisses Jack softly in goodbye, and then she turns her back on him and caresses Rhys's cheek as though he were alive and merely sleeping. Moments later, she hears someone behind her who sounds like Jack croak out two words. Thank you. She turns, disbelieving, and she sees Jack swallow and try to smile.
In that moment, she has never loved nor hated Jack Harkness more.
She whips around and kisses Rhys, pulls back, and waits. Nothing happens.
Correction, she has never hated Jack Harkness more than in this moment.
~~~
Jack sits with her for a time. He holds her hand. His skin is warm against hers, and she can't help but stare at it. He squeezes once and lets go, and she can still feel the imprint of the warmth of his fingers in her palm, and she feels sick. She's felt sick as a baseline since she first realized that Rhys was in real danger down in the cells where she put him. This is more. Jack moves away, uneasily, and she is glad for the quiet. She could hear him breathing, and it unnerved her.
She is alone with Rhys. She kisses him again. No reaction. She bites her lower lip and tries to remember if she kissed him before she tasered him, back in the kitchen. Their kitchen. With the warm smells of his cooking and the clean scents of her air freshener and his laundry detergent. She smells nothing of him now.
She shivers, and warm hands pull a soft cardigan around her shoulders. Warm lips press against the top of her head. The sweater smells like Jack. She wants to rip it off, but she no longer possesses the strength. She is fading. It scares her.
She slides her arms into the sleeves.
~~~
She kisses him one last time. There is no miracle, no last minute awakening from the dead. Rhys, she whispers sadly, trying to coax him awake. Rhys, please.
Rhys.
Gwen is given no reprieve. She summons what little strength she has left to pull the sheet over his still face. It breaks her. She turns to run, and falls. Her legs are jelly; they collapse at the hip. Jack is there at the ready. He catches her, holding her up with one strong arm around her waist - and, really, who knew that Captain Jack Harkness was capable of wholly platonic touching? - and a hand at her elbow. He walks her past Ianto and Tosh and - god, Owen. They say nothing, and she is grateful. Owen looks at anywhere but her, and she is grateful.
Jack takes her home, and the flat feels so empty, so incredibly empty. He walks her into the bathroom and starts the shower, pulling out a towel from a cabinet like he knows the flat in and out. She's so exhausted that she doesn't think to wonder about that. You'll feel better once you're clean, he says. She stands there, dumbly. He peels the cardigan off of her and gently asks if she needs help with the rest. He checks the water's temperature, and a cloud of steam drifts in front of her face, startling her into reality. Jack repeats the question. Gwen shakes her head, the first voluntary movement she's made since - and he watches, assesses, eyes slightly narrowed. Finally, he nods and leaves. He does not shut the door completely behind him.
She washes mechanically, not seeing the blood and the tears wash down the drain. She wraps herself in the towel and smells the familiar laundry detergent. She vomits into the sink and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She is pale, very pale, despite the heat of the shower. Her lips have no color in them.
Jack comes through the door with a look of concern. She cannot process any more and stumbles past him into the bedroom. He's turned down the bedsheets for her. She mechanically pulls out clothing and dresses quickly, far beyond caring what, if anything, Jack sees. She just doesn't want him getting any ideas about needing to dress her.
She closes her eyes, breathes in - and smells Rhys. Startled, she looks around. Then she grabs a handful of her shirt and pulls it to her nose. She knows then that she will keep his clothes, keep them hanging in the closet and folded in the drawer, until she can no longer smell him. And still she will keep them.
Jack appears again, with warm milk. Drink, he orders. She obeys, and the mug is at her lips when she stops, suddenly wary. Drink, he orders, more gently this time. It's safe, he tells her. She's not sure she believes him, but she drinks it anyway. Good girl, he whispers into her hair, rest now.
She sleeps, and when she wakes, Jack is sitting in the chair, and the sunlight through the window is blinding. There is no blissful moment of forgetting.
~~~
On day one, Gwen barely leaves her bed. Jack had brought her some crackers to eat the first time she woke up. The next time she awakens, Jack had darkened the window at some point with a hastily-constructed curtain, and he's still sitting in the chair, possibly dozing. She debates stretching her legs, but instead she lies there until she falls back to sleep. She wakes again at dusk and wanders out of the bedroom to find Jack talking quietly on the phone to who she assumes is Ianto. He catches her eye. In that moment, she decides she's not prepared to handle the world, and she goes back to bed before he can say anything. The look on his face was more than enough.
She stirs sometime in the night, and he is seated in the chair again, watching over her, and she wonders if the time passing is just an illusion.
On what she assumes is day two, Gwen finds Jack in the kitchen, folding laundry, another load already running in the machine. She half wonders where all the clothes had come from, and then she notices that he's folding her underwear.
"Take me back to the Hub, Jack," she croaks out. She's not sure she's ready for the full force of a normal day at work at Torchwood, but anything will be better than sitting around the flat all day, looking at all the doors that Rhys will never walk through again - and, you know, the image of Jack Harkness folding her underwear.
She can see Jack visibly refrain himself from flirting with her. That must be a first, she thinks. Instead, he nods once, slowly. "Let me know when you're ready to leave," he replies, choosing his words more carefully than Gwen has ever heard. Maybe she was never listening hard enough. She turns to go shower and dress; he follows her into the bedroom with the basket of folded laundry.
"I'll do that," she says sharply, taking the basket from him.
"Okay," he says, too easily, and he backs out of the bedroom. As she sets the basket on the bed, she has absolutely no intention of putting the clothes away. It can be a project for another day. Or, maybe, she'll never put laundry away again. It's her prerogative.
She hears what sounds like Jack going through her refrigerator. The sooner she showers, the sooner she gets out of the flat, and Jack with her.
~~~
The Team, minus Jack, has gone out to retrieve food. Their togetherness is a bit awkward and forced, but not altogether unexpected, given the events leading up to their collective decision to open the Rift, and the effects radiating from it. Gwen has always been the human one, and her strength and place in the team has been centered around those qualities that the others have found themselves lacking in - her human connections to the outside world. And now, Gwen's most integral human connection to the outside world has been severed. She is barely coming out of her tailspin. No one else, save for Jack, really knows how to handle her, and to be honest, she really doesn't know how to handle herself.
So, she goes with them - not by choice - to pick up lunch. She is quieter than usual, and so is Owen - quieter than usual around Gwen, that is - which leaves Tosh and Ianto in the position of keeping up the conversation, lest it get really awkward.
Meanwhile, the Hub is quiet, and Jack takes a moment to appreciate the uncharacteristic stillness. He pauses to remember all the lives that have passed through these walls before him, over the many, many years he has been a part of Torchwood, and he appreciates how much it has changed over those years - how much change he has brought about, in this underground base beneath the Plas and the bay. Cardiff has no idea how much it has been changed by Torchwood, by Jack Harkness.
Suddenly, behind him - the life support framework he's set up for the Doctor's severed hand comes alive and the nurturing fluid begins to churn and bubble. His breath catches in his throat, even more than when the gaseous alien inhabiting poor Carys had seized the glass container and used it as a hostage in its escape attempt, only to shatter it against the floor of the Tourist Office to effectuate its escape. Jack is riveted to the spot, his eyes glued to the hand. But only for the briefest of moments, and then he moves.
He hears that oh so familiar grinding, ratcheting noise, and his heart is filled with hope. It's like music to him. It says to him, Now is the time!
Jack grabs the hand and runs.
He does not look back.
~~~
When the team returns, laughing - actually laughing, together, something that each of them had thought would have been near impossible so soon after... after everything - they find the inside of the Hub in complete disarray. They continue laughing, call out for Jack, ask what sort of joke this is supposed to be, what sort of training exercise has he cooked up now.
Jack is nowhere to be found. The laughter immediately stops. Their leader is missing.
"Something's taken Jack."
They assume that he would not have left them willingly without warning them. They are wrong.
~~~
Gwen is swinging like a pendulum. At least, that's what it feels like, back and forth between inconsolable and in control. No one knows which way she's going to swing next, least of all Gwen herself.
Owen resents how easily she's assumed control of the team, how easily Tosh and Ianto defer to her commands - he chafes at every perceived imposition, makes every comment imaginable behind Gwen's back. Of course she hears it; that's the point. Owen would be doing it if he didn't want an audience, and Tosh alone is not enough; she becomes all the more skittish with every day that passes. Ianto isn't really listening much these days, isn't really doing much at all. Jack's disappearance has hit him hard and hit him personally. Gwen knows she needs to address it, or else she risks losing him. She knows she needs to address Owen, too, or else she risks losing him too, and she can't have that. Torchwood needs him, to survive; Torchwood needs all of them in order to survive. Gwen knows she has to do something about it, or else they'll tear themselves apart.
But it will just have to wait until tomorrow, she decides, looking around at the messy remains of various Torchwood activities - and eating behaviors - in the Hub. There are easier things to accomplish first.
~~~
Tosh remembers vividly - too vividly, if you ask her - what it felt like to hear someone else's thoughts, everyone else's thoughts. It was intimate and private and loud and overwhelming, and you ended up learning a lot of things you had no business knowing, most of which you really didn't want to know about in the first place. It had been, at turns, an incredibly humbling, humanizing, exhilarating, and shaming experience. She'd needed some industrial grade mental steel wool to clean out her mind after the experience, but unfortunately none was available, and Jack's joking suggestions had been no help whatsoever.
It is something she never wants to go through again.
And yet, she almost would, just a little bit, just selectively, if it would mean sorting out the interpersonal dynamics of her teammates. It was definitely a task she did not feel equipped to handle. Generally, these things tended to fall to Gwen, who had always been so open and emotionally in touch. However, even Tosh can see - or, perhaps, only Tosh can see, as Ianto isn't surfacing much from his daze lately - that Gwen is a part of the problem. A major part of the problem. Jack's disappearance had galvanized her into action, but only part of the way there - not enough to overcome the force of Owen's ego so that he could see necessity.
And so it is in this quandary that Tosh finds herself trapped. She doesn't entirely know where she stands in this new order, and so she says nothing and hopes that it will resolve itself soon. She keeps her head down.
~~~
Jack is still gone.
Sometimes Gwen wakes up from dreams that she doesn't quite remember, of mountains reaching up from the ground and soaring in the distance, of cold and danger, of despair and hopelessness. She wonders what could be more hopeless than the reality she's living.
She doesn't waste too much time on wondering. It's her reality, and she's just going to have to live in it. If there's any one thing they've learned, it's that they can't change the hand they're dealt. Their disastrous attempts to manipulate the Rift had accomplished nothing but to sow more fear and confusion and, apparently, could not be completely remedied. It was an important lesson to learn, but they all agree - well, they all would have agreed if they actually talked about these things - that it came to too high a cost.
~~~
One day, Gwen is at her flat, reaching into a drawer, when she feels something out of place and wholly unexpected. It's hard and shaped like a box, and it feels as though it's just the size to fit into the palm of her hand. (Her stomach doesn't drop, exactly, so much as take up residence somewhere that is not in her body.) She pulls it out of the drawer. It is exactly what it felt like.
She doesn't open the box. She sets it down on the table beside the couch, and continues on in her daily routine. It's monotonous, and she's still not sure what to do when UNIT calls. More often than not, they let it go to the computerized answering service that Tosh has set up, with the idea that they can blame malfunctioning equipment when and if they're prepared to deal with UNIT. Another day passes by without any moving forward, without any movement much at all.
And then Gwen goes home, sits down on the couch, and opens the box.
She looks at the ring.
She does not imagine what it would look like on her finger. She does not imagine what Rhys's proposal would have been like. She does not imagine anything.
She puts the ring on.
~~~
The next day, she goes to the Hub. Ianto says nothing and greets her as usual - polite, friendly, and each day less reluctantly. (Later, she will find a small chocolate sitting beside her usual morning coffee. Ianto is a careful and skilled observer; he generally misses very little. It's a talent Gwen has learned to rely upon.)
Tosh sees the ring and stammers through "good morning," her mouth working into a small O and her eyes filling with pity. (Gwen ignores it.) Owen says nothing, but it's clear that he notices. He leaves off with the passive-aggressive comments for a couple of hours. (She ignores that, too. Acknowledging that kindness might be too much for her to handle. He goes back to normal soon enough, anyway.)
Gwen goes through the daily routine, again, monotonous as ever. Several weevil sightings take priority today. They're not too difficult to deal with; it's a commonplace procedure for them, whether or not Jack Harkness is there to flirt and keep commentary.
Much later, she finds herself sitting next to Ianto on a bench overlooking the Plas. The sky is grey. People in all manner of dress rush by, not paying any attention to them. It's a typical day in Cardiff. It's more or less a typical day for Torchwood, minus the appearance of the ring on Gwen's finger.
"So," he says. "Rhys."
"Yeah."
Ianto is quiet for several moments, and he is quiet when he next speaks. "I'm sorry."
She doesn't know how to respond - Me, too? I know? I wish? - but there were too many ways to end the sentence starting with I wish for her to even begin to tackle it. None of it would be helpful, and they know it. One day, they'll say the words. One day soon, actually. They'll sit together, and they'll let it out. It will be horrible and incredibly cathartic. That day is not today.
Instead of replying, she leans over and simply lays her head on his shoulder. He is only surprised at the contact, not at the action. Their friendship has been growing closer since Jack left. They understand each other better now.
She doesn't have to say anything. He knows what she means.
Ianto doesn't press the issue. They're in the same boat, but they aren't.
~~~
She doesn't dream about how Rhys might have proposed, doesn't see scenes of them in a restaurant, in a park, with her family or with his family, the two of them alone somewhere.
She doesn't dream of a romantic dinner for two in their flat, the only illumination from the candles, of Rhys suddenly kneeling in front of her with a scared but expectant look on his face, of tears stealing down her face. She doesn't dream of Rhys accidentally collapsing onto the settee and her giggling acceptance and the two of them laughing on their way towards marriage and babies.
She doesn't.
(And anyone who says differently is a liar.)
~~~
Owen and Gwen come head to head over, of all things, whether or not the disappearance of the elderly Mrs. Dowling's pet iguana under very suspicious circumstances merited Torchwood investigation. It isn't a pretty fight. If it had been six months before, it would have resolved itself with frantic, angry sex played out in some hidden corner of their lives, painfully obvious to the rest of their teammates, but it would have been resolved, one way or another. Now, the game has changed. The two are no longer lovers, and they'd never had to practice their conflict resolution skills outside of the bedroom. Jack had always arbitrated their disputes with either cool decision or amused informality, as he had done with everything in Torchwood. They had never had to mediate, never had to meet somewhere in the middle - not professionally, at least.
Even Ianto notices the clash. He and Tosh become unwilling spectators to the argument. Tosh doesn't move, doesn't hardly breathe for fear of being pulled in and forced to choose a side. She's happier with dueling equations; there's no sulking or hurt feelings once one wins out over the other, which is bound to be the case here. The argument has ramped up to the absurd - if it hadn't been already, which was clearly a point up to some debate - and it's readily apparent that neither one is prepared to yield any ground to the other.
For his part, Ianto's been seeing the world as though he's been caught in molasses - or worse, in amber, as the case may be - and in a way, this cold war turned hot might just be the thing that brings him back to the present.
"He is gone," Ianto grinds out slowly, firmly, as though it costs him greatly to admit this fact, and it does. Even Owen has enough tact not to ask whether Ianto is referring to Jack or to the iguana, who was also male and could possibly qualify as the "he" in that statement. "He is gone, and we don't know how or why or how to get him back."
"Ianto," Owen says tiredly, "we don't even know whether Jack went unwillingly."
"Owen!" hisses Gwen. He has voiced a fear that they've all felt but not admitted aloud. Until now.
"What?" he explodes. "It's the truth, isn't it? It's the fucking truth! Open your eyes. Jack is gone."
"We don't know that." This, from Tosh.
"What, that he's gone?"
"Owen, don't do that, you know what I-"
"Jack wouldn't have left us!"
"Ianto, he as good as did. For all we know, he chose to leave."
"What's worse," Gwen says sadly, quietly, effectively cutting off the shouting match between Owen and Ianto about Jack's motivations or lack thereof, "is that he left us with nothing. Some training, yes, but we're so dependent on him for information, for answers, for everything. He made so dependent on him."
"You're right, Gwen. Fuck."
"We have to - we have to start from scratch. All of us. Together. Or else we're just going to keep falling apart."
"Right," Owen agrees again. "We have to work together. Can't be that hard, right?"
"I can-" Tosh breaks off, looking around. "I can start by collating and cross-referencing all the data we have against the information databanks recovered from - well, from Torchwood One, in London. Jack never let me do it before; he always said he never trusted them, that we were separate. But I can do it."
"That's good. That's a good start. But - do it tomorrow, Tosh. Right, Owen?"
"Yeah. Right now, we need drinks, and lots of them. And food. Is anyone else absolutely starving?"
"Let's all go grab a bite, then. Any preferences?" Gwen, the ultimate organizer.
"No meat."
"Still, Tosh?" A pause; Owen isn't really surprised. He's not entirely sure all of what Tosh went through those months ago, but then again, he hadn't really been paying attention to her at the time. "Right, I don't blame you."
"Come on," Gwen announces, "let's go. You can decide on the way. I don't care." As they start to file out, Gwen hangs back to see Ianto. "Are you-?"
"He's gone, Gwen."
"I know, sweetheart." Gwen is using the voice she uses with young children, or with scared people. The most reassuring voice she knows. "We have to get through it. Both of us." She pauses, grasping his hand and squeezing it gently. "I'm here for you."
~~~
Gwen's daily routine has changed; she is more settled into Torchwood than ever before, and this is a good thing - they have begun to start coming together. It is a typical day for Torchwood. It's Torchwood; typical varies. There's generally something in the mix they hadn't planned on.
She goes to the Hub, reviews Tosh's requests for new computer and power management equipment, Owen's request to convert the spare conference room into a greenhouse environment to house the variety of alien flora they encounter, and Ianto's request for more advanced weapons training.
She fields calls from UNIT now that they're actually answering the phone when UNIT calls, from the Prime Minister's office, and today, from a very confused actuary - and then she sets Ianto on tracking down how the actuary ended up with Torchwood's number in the first place and whether it's going to be a problem for them in the future. They don't like to use Retcon on unsuspecting people when they don't deserve it. Actually, they don't like to use Retcon much at all, but it's a weapon in their arsenal, and they'll use it if they have to, but it's become a last resort, rather than a first one. They can live with themselves a little more easily that way.
She looks over various police reports and notes the ones that seem to merit closer investigation by Torchwood. In addition to the ones she normally reviews, she gets a heads-up from Andy when there's something he finds odd enough to bring to their attention. Occasionally Owen slips pictures of iguanas and other reptiles into the files, just to see if Gwen will notice. Gwen's saving them so that she can one day paper over the entire autopsy bay with Owen's iguanas.
They're developing a healthier relationship. All of them.
~~~
It isn't long before the first iteration of the newly-created Torchwood Alien Plant Nursery goes awry, and not just because of arguments over the proper naming conventions for an alien plant nursery - also under consideration for its name is the Owen Harper Alien Plant Nursery, but that keeps getting voted down, to Owen's continued dismay.
Apparently, there is a certain variety of alien vine that becomes amazingly fast-growing when it senses any competition for resources. This is news to Team Torchwood.
They come in one morning to find the entire Hub filled, floor to ceiling, with vines in shades of fuchsia. Myfanwy doesn't even have room to stretch her wings; they can hear her screeching indignantly from her alcove, high above them. They are fortunate that the plant had not yet found its way up into the Tourist Office; that would have been difficult to explain had an unwary tourist wandered in. The team clears a path with the aid of some conveniently located fire axes - and they're curious why they have a stockpile of fire axes, but they're not going to look a gift fire axe in the mouth - while Tosh gets the rather enviable job of retreating to the Tourist Office and calling about the strongest herbicide they can find.
Surprisingly, Owen does not protest the unanimous decision for the use of an herbicide. His lone announcement on the matter - that is, when he takes a momentary break from the colorful stream of curses he's been letting loose with - is, "Just kill the damn thing. I've got a sample locked up." In response, Ianto glares at the back of his head. He is not the only one imagining a second round against the escaped plant.
No one remarks that Jack would have - might have - been able to tell them about this consequence ahead of time. They've learned to make do without his wealth of knowledge, both useful and trivial. They're learning to make do without him.
Owen develops expanded quarantine procedures by the end of the day, and without comment, Gwen stays late to help him implement them.
~~~
Torchwood becomes a much more efficient organization, in all respects, without Jack at the helm. No one will admit this.
Not out loud, at least.
~~~
She knows that one day Jack will come back. They all know this, in one form or another. For Gwen, it is no longer a blind faith in the constructed image of Captain Jack Harkness or his mythos. It is something she knows deep inside.
There are some days that she would gladly relinquish her expanded role in the Torchwood infrastructure to the first person who walked by, qualified or not - and wasn't that what had happened to her, and with this mantle thrust upon her shoulders? - because no one is truly qualified to run this madhouse. This is what she has learned.
Strangely, those days are becoming fewer and further between, and she has become more comfortable in her new position. She and Owen have developed or forged or stumbled into a workable balance between them. The details are unimportant, only that they are no longer succumbing to infighting. The power struggle is long over. The team has come back together, stronger now than before. They are growing together this time, and the changed environment is fostering new skills in each of them.
Gwen surprises herself; she is proud of her team. Her team.
She knows that Jack will return, and when he does, they'll be ready for him. She'll be ready for him.
He won't know what hit him.
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13. Some swearing, but no sex.
Characters/Pairing: Gwen, mainly, and the rest of the team. Gwen/Rhys.
Length: ~5700 words.
Summary: Rhys doesn't get resurrected, and Jack gets the hell out of Dodge as soon as he hears the TARDIS. Gwen and the team have to start figuring things out on their own. AU from "End of Days," with brief allusions to various things that happen after.
Author's Note: This started out over two years ago. The original piece ( i breathe your breath) was completely written in December of 2007, and I set it aside the very next day. A death in the family pretty much meant that I couldn't even bear to look at it, because thematically it was just too raw. halfamoon inspired me to actually post it in February of 2008.
Then, after that, I just really loved the idea of the team coming together in Jack's absence, especially with Gwen in a leadership role, and I was interested to see where Gwen would go from there, so I started expanding it in late 2008. I put it down for over a year because of general school and life craziness, but I dusted it back off for this year's halfamoon -- I was reminded of it by a prompt in the Impromptuthon by sunnyrea, asking for fic where Gwen was in charge while Jack was gone. And here it is, expanded and renamed.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Torchwood or its characters.
~~~
She held Jack in that deadened field, after Abaddon, and cried in fear and in despair. And, in some part, one that she'd never admit to, her tears fell in relief. The Rift was closed; Jack had saved them. He'd saved them all. It was the way things worked. It was a return to normal.
But at what cost, some fearful part of her asked as she brushed the hair from Jack's forehead, her hands wet with saltwater. She ignored the suggestion, and instead smoothed out the wrinkles in Jack's shirt. He would wake up; she'd seen him do it before, and this time would be no different. She believed in him. If nothing else, she believed in Jack Harkness.
She wasn't sure how long she'd sat, cradling Jack in her arms - minutes? hours? - but her sobbing had stopped sometime before, and she was rocking him gently, soothingly, occasionally whimpering still, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She was dimly aware of Ianto falling to his knees beside them with a broken sob and of Owen's hand reaching for one of Jack's wrists. She only took notice when someone took Jack from her and she was pulled to her feet. Someone - Toshiko - murmured something gentle, but it didn't penetrate into Gwen's mind except as background noise. Her gaze never left Jack's face, watching for the smallest of movements.
She and Ianto were herded to the SUV, and when they were back at the Hub, she went about smoothing the wrinkles from Jack's shirt and brushing the hair from his brow once again. When that was done, she turned around to ask Ianto if he wouldn't mind sitting alone with Jack for a spell while she ran home for just a moment - she was aware he was behind her; she could feel the weight of his presence at her back - and then she saw not only Ianto, with eyes only for Jack, but Tosh, who was pale and scared and fidgeting nervously, and Owen, who would not look at either Jack or her. Gwen's gaze focused on something behind them down in the autopsy bay, and she screamed.
Rhys had not moved.
~~~
She is crying hard. There is blood, still, covering him, and he is still unmoving. Rhys isn't moving, isn't awake, isn't breathing. This is all she knows.
She can't breathe but for the wailing cries being ripped from her throat. Her knees unlock and will no longer support her; they have betrayed her, too. Strong arms catch her, and she's not sure who is holding her - a stray thought steals across her mind that it'd better not be Owen - but she won't tear her eyes from Rhys's body, and she can't breathe. She feels like she's coming out of her skin, and she can't move. She feels herself being lowered to the floor, and she feels Tosh's cool hands on the sides of her face, and suddenly all she can see is Tosh's face. Toshiko's lips are moving, but she comprehends nothing. Tosh presses her hands harder against her cheeks, her face becoming more insistent. Gwen struggles to focus, makes out a single word. Breathe.
She can't breathe.
~~~
She sits, between the two of them. Sometimes she paces, walks around the morgue, checks to feel their pulses. She hasn't felt a beat yet. Ianto's brought in two chairs, and they sit, not talking. She holds Rhys's hand for hours, but she has no tears left, and he has made no movements. She watches Jack closely, too, but she does not turn her back on Rhys to do so. She thinks Ianto understands.
She changes her mind when Ianto leaves their vigil after the first day. Perhaps he continues it in another place, but it is out of the scope of her sight - she can see only two men: her boyfriend, and the man who brought her into this strange, harsh world. Ianto is neither.
Someone has brought her coffee while she was taking a turn around the morgue. She finds it sitting beside her chair, and she nearly vomits, the smell is so intense. It quickly disappears, and she thinks she hears Ianto scolding someone far away from where she is.
Toshiko brings her watered-down juice and forces the glass into her hand. Tosh whispers words of encouragement, but Gwen chokes on the liquid, her throat closing off as it hits her tongue. The glass slips through her fingers and shatters, red juice coating white tile. Her mind slams her back to Rhys, to finding him in the kitchen, by the cells, in the autopsy bay. She retches, bringing up precisely nothing. Her stomach is empty.
Later, Owen comes up behind her. Gwen can feel his presence as sharply as always. She ignores him, pointedly fidgeting with Rhys's blood-stiff shirt. She hears Tosh shoo him away, and she feels empty all the more.
Ianto brings her tasteless broth. Please try to eat, he says gently, you're making the others nervous; they don't understand. He touches her wrist, so lightly she almost wouldn't have noticed if she weren't so super-attuned to her immediate surroundings. Her hand is holding Jack's, and she is surprised that Ianto touched her. Softly, he tells her to wait until it's lukewarm, it'll be easier that way. She wonders vaguely why he's worried about her burning her mouth - she reaches absently towards the bowl, only to snap her hand back when she feels the heat rolling off from the broth in sharp contrast against the temperature of Rhys and Jack's skin.
She decides to follow Ianto's advice. He's done this before, she remembers.
~~~
After three days' time, she kisses Jack goodbye, knowing - and ignoring - that she might soon be doing the same with Rhys. Three days is enough time spent split between the two; she has to make a choice.
It is not a choice, precisely. It was always coming to this, and there is no other way for her to go, lest she be permanently divided.
She chooses Rhys.
She kisses Jack softly in goodbye, and then she turns her back on him and caresses Rhys's cheek as though he were alive and merely sleeping. Moments later, she hears someone behind her who sounds like Jack croak out two words. Thank you. She turns, disbelieving, and she sees Jack swallow and try to smile.
In that moment, she has never loved nor hated Jack Harkness more.
She whips around and kisses Rhys, pulls back, and waits. Nothing happens.
Correction, she has never hated Jack Harkness more than in this moment.
~~~
Jack sits with her for a time. He holds her hand. His skin is warm against hers, and she can't help but stare at it. He squeezes once and lets go, and she can still feel the imprint of the warmth of his fingers in her palm, and she feels sick. She's felt sick as a baseline since she first realized that Rhys was in real danger down in the cells where she put him. This is more. Jack moves away, uneasily, and she is glad for the quiet. She could hear him breathing, and it unnerved her.
She is alone with Rhys. She kisses him again. No reaction. She bites her lower lip and tries to remember if she kissed him before she tasered him, back in the kitchen. Their kitchen. With the warm smells of his cooking and the clean scents of her air freshener and his laundry detergent. She smells nothing of him now.
She shivers, and warm hands pull a soft cardigan around her shoulders. Warm lips press against the top of her head. The sweater smells like Jack. She wants to rip it off, but she no longer possesses the strength. She is fading. It scares her.
She slides her arms into the sleeves.
~~~
She kisses him one last time. There is no miracle, no last minute awakening from the dead. Rhys, she whispers sadly, trying to coax him awake. Rhys, please.
Rhys.
Gwen is given no reprieve. She summons what little strength she has left to pull the sheet over his still face. It breaks her. She turns to run, and falls. Her legs are jelly; they collapse at the hip. Jack is there at the ready. He catches her, holding her up with one strong arm around her waist - and, really, who knew that Captain Jack Harkness was capable of wholly platonic touching? - and a hand at her elbow. He walks her past Ianto and Tosh and - god, Owen. They say nothing, and she is grateful. Owen looks at anywhere but her, and she is grateful.
Jack takes her home, and the flat feels so empty, so incredibly empty. He walks her into the bathroom and starts the shower, pulling out a towel from a cabinet like he knows the flat in and out. She's so exhausted that she doesn't think to wonder about that. You'll feel better once you're clean, he says. She stands there, dumbly. He peels the cardigan off of her and gently asks if she needs help with the rest. He checks the water's temperature, and a cloud of steam drifts in front of her face, startling her into reality. Jack repeats the question. Gwen shakes her head, the first voluntary movement she's made since - and he watches, assesses, eyes slightly narrowed. Finally, he nods and leaves. He does not shut the door completely behind him.
She washes mechanically, not seeing the blood and the tears wash down the drain. She wraps herself in the towel and smells the familiar laundry detergent. She vomits into the sink and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She is pale, very pale, despite the heat of the shower. Her lips have no color in them.
Jack comes through the door with a look of concern. She cannot process any more and stumbles past him into the bedroom. He's turned down the bedsheets for her. She mechanically pulls out clothing and dresses quickly, far beyond caring what, if anything, Jack sees. She just doesn't want him getting any ideas about needing to dress her.
She closes her eyes, breathes in - and smells Rhys. Startled, she looks around. Then she grabs a handful of her shirt and pulls it to her nose. She knows then that she will keep his clothes, keep them hanging in the closet and folded in the drawer, until she can no longer smell him. And still she will keep them.
Jack appears again, with warm milk. Drink, he orders. She obeys, and the mug is at her lips when she stops, suddenly wary. Drink, he orders, more gently this time. It's safe, he tells her. She's not sure she believes him, but she drinks it anyway. Good girl, he whispers into her hair, rest now.
She sleeps, and when she wakes, Jack is sitting in the chair, and the sunlight through the window is blinding. There is no blissful moment of forgetting.
~~~
On day one, Gwen barely leaves her bed. Jack had brought her some crackers to eat the first time she woke up. The next time she awakens, Jack had darkened the window at some point with a hastily-constructed curtain, and he's still sitting in the chair, possibly dozing. She debates stretching her legs, but instead she lies there until she falls back to sleep. She wakes again at dusk and wanders out of the bedroom to find Jack talking quietly on the phone to who she assumes is Ianto. He catches her eye. In that moment, she decides she's not prepared to handle the world, and she goes back to bed before he can say anything. The look on his face was more than enough.
She stirs sometime in the night, and he is seated in the chair again, watching over her, and she wonders if the time passing is just an illusion.
On what she assumes is day two, Gwen finds Jack in the kitchen, folding laundry, another load already running in the machine. She half wonders where all the clothes had come from, and then she notices that he's folding her underwear.
"Take me back to the Hub, Jack," she croaks out. She's not sure she's ready for the full force of a normal day at work at Torchwood, but anything will be better than sitting around the flat all day, looking at all the doors that Rhys will never walk through again - and, you know, the image of Jack Harkness folding her underwear.
She can see Jack visibly refrain himself from flirting with her. That must be a first, she thinks. Instead, he nods once, slowly. "Let me know when you're ready to leave," he replies, choosing his words more carefully than Gwen has ever heard. Maybe she was never listening hard enough. She turns to go shower and dress; he follows her into the bedroom with the basket of folded laundry.
"I'll do that," she says sharply, taking the basket from him.
"Okay," he says, too easily, and he backs out of the bedroom. As she sets the basket on the bed, she has absolutely no intention of putting the clothes away. It can be a project for another day. Or, maybe, she'll never put laundry away again. It's her prerogative.
She hears what sounds like Jack going through her refrigerator. The sooner she showers, the sooner she gets out of the flat, and Jack with her.
~~~
The Team, minus Jack, has gone out to retrieve food. Their togetherness is a bit awkward and forced, but not altogether unexpected, given the events leading up to their collective decision to open the Rift, and the effects radiating from it. Gwen has always been the human one, and her strength and place in the team has been centered around those qualities that the others have found themselves lacking in - her human connections to the outside world. And now, Gwen's most integral human connection to the outside world has been severed. She is barely coming out of her tailspin. No one else, save for Jack, really knows how to handle her, and to be honest, she really doesn't know how to handle herself.
So, she goes with them - not by choice - to pick up lunch. She is quieter than usual, and so is Owen - quieter than usual around Gwen, that is - which leaves Tosh and Ianto in the position of keeping up the conversation, lest it get really awkward.
Meanwhile, the Hub is quiet, and Jack takes a moment to appreciate the uncharacteristic stillness. He pauses to remember all the lives that have passed through these walls before him, over the many, many years he has been a part of Torchwood, and he appreciates how much it has changed over those years - how much change he has brought about, in this underground base beneath the Plas and the bay. Cardiff has no idea how much it has been changed by Torchwood, by Jack Harkness.
Suddenly, behind him - the life support framework he's set up for the Doctor's severed hand comes alive and the nurturing fluid begins to churn and bubble. His breath catches in his throat, even more than when the gaseous alien inhabiting poor Carys had seized the glass container and used it as a hostage in its escape attempt, only to shatter it against the floor of the Tourist Office to effectuate its escape. Jack is riveted to the spot, his eyes glued to the hand. But only for the briefest of moments, and then he moves.
He hears that oh so familiar grinding, ratcheting noise, and his heart is filled with hope. It's like music to him. It says to him, Now is the time!
Jack grabs the hand and runs.
He does not look back.
~~~
When the team returns, laughing - actually laughing, together, something that each of them had thought would have been near impossible so soon after... after everything - they find the inside of the Hub in complete disarray. They continue laughing, call out for Jack, ask what sort of joke this is supposed to be, what sort of training exercise has he cooked up now.
Jack is nowhere to be found. The laughter immediately stops. Their leader is missing.
"Something's taken Jack."
They assume that he would not have left them willingly without warning them. They are wrong.
~~~
Gwen is swinging like a pendulum. At least, that's what it feels like, back and forth between inconsolable and in control. No one knows which way she's going to swing next, least of all Gwen herself.
Owen resents how easily she's assumed control of the team, how easily Tosh and Ianto defer to her commands - he chafes at every perceived imposition, makes every comment imaginable behind Gwen's back. Of course she hears it; that's the point. Owen would be doing it if he didn't want an audience, and Tosh alone is not enough; she becomes all the more skittish with every day that passes. Ianto isn't really listening much these days, isn't really doing much at all. Jack's disappearance has hit him hard and hit him personally. Gwen knows she needs to address it, or else she risks losing him. She knows she needs to address Owen, too, or else she risks losing him too, and she can't have that. Torchwood needs him, to survive; Torchwood needs all of them in order to survive. Gwen knows she has to do something about it, or else they'll tear themselves apart.
But it will just have to wait until tomorrow, she decides, looking around at the messy remains of various Torchwood activities - and eating behaviors - in the Hub. There are easier things to accomplish first.
~~~
Tosh remembers vividly - too vividly, if you ask her - what it felt like to hear someone else's thoughts, everyone else's thoughts. It was intimate and private and loud and overwhelming, and you ended up learning a lot of things you had no business knowing, most of which you really didn't want to know about in the first place. It had been, at turns, an incredibly humbling, humanizing, exhilarating, and shaming experience. She'd needed some industrial grade mental steel wool to clean out her mind after the experience, but unfortunately none was available, and Jack's joking suggestions had been no help whatsoever.
It is something she never wants to go through again.
And yet, she almost would, just a little bit, just selectively, if it would mean sorting out the interpersonal dynamics of her teammates. It was definitely a task she did not feel equipped to handle. Generally, these things tended to fall to Gwen, who had always been so open and emotionally in touch. However, even Tosh can see - or, perhaps, only Tosh can see, as Ianto isn't surfacing much from his daze lately - that Gwen is a part of the problem. A major part of the problem. Jack's disappearance had galvanized her into action, but only part of the way there - not enough to overcome the force of Owen's ego so that he could see necessity.
And so it is in this quandary that Tosh finds herself trapped. She doesn't entirely know where she stands in this new order, and so she says nothing and hopes that it will resolve itself soon. She keeps her head down.
~~~
Jack is still gone.
Sometimes Gwen wakes up from dreams that she doesn't quite remember, of mountains reaching up from the ground and soaring in the distance, of cold and danger, of despair and hopelessness. She wonders what could be more hopeless than the reality she's living.
She doesn't waste too much time on wondering. It's her reality, and she's just going to have to live in it. If there's any one thing they've learned, it's that they can't change the hand they're dealt. Their disastrous attempts to manipulate the Rift had accomplished nothing but to sow more fear and confusion and, apparently, could not be completely remedied. It was an important lesson to learn, but they all agree - well, they all would have agreed if they actually talked about these things - that it came to too high a cost.
~~~
One day, Gwen is at her flat, reaching into a drawer, when she feels something out of place and wholly unexpected. It's hard and shaped like a box, and it feels as though it's just the size to fit into the palm of her hand. (Her stomach doesn't drop, exactly, so much as take up residence somewhere that is not in her body.) She pulls it out of the drawer. It is exactly what it felt like.
She doesn't open the box. She sets it down on the table beside the couch, and continues on in her daily routine. It's monotonous, and she's still not sure what to do when UNIT calls. More often than not, they let it go to the computerized answering service that Tosh has set up, with the idea that they can blame malfunctioning equipment when and if they're prepared to deal with UNIT. Another day passes by without any moving forward, without any movement much at all.
And then Gwen goes home, sits down on the couch, and opens the box.
She looks at the ring.
She does not imagine what it would look like on her finger. She does not imagine what Rhys's proposal would have been like. She does not imagine anything.
She puts the ring on.
~~~
The next day, she goes to the Hub. Ianto says nothing and greets her as usual - polite, friendly, and each day less reluctantly. (Later, she will find a small chocolate sitting beside her usual morning coffee. Ianto is a careful and skilled observer; he generally misses very little. It's a talent Gwen has learned to rely upon.)
Tosh sees the ring and stammers through "good morning," her mouth working into a small O and her eyes filling with pity. (Gwen ignores it.) Owen says nothing, but it's clear that he notices. He leaves off with the passive-aggressive comments for a couple of hours. (She ignores that, too. Acknowledging that kindness might be too much for her to handle. He goes back to normal soon enough, anyway.)
Gwen goes through the daily routine, again, monotonous as ever. Several weevil sightings take priority today. They're not too difficult to deal with; it's a commonplace procedure for them, whether or not Jack Harkness is there to flirt and keep commentary.
Much later, she finds herself sitting next to Ianto on a bench overlooking the Plas. The sky is grey. People in all manner of dress rush by, not paying any attention to them. It's a typical day in Cardiff. It's more or less a typical day for Torchwood, minus the appearance of the ring on Gwen's finger.
"So," he says. "Rhys."
"Yeah."
Ianto is quiet for several moments, and he is quiet when he next speaks. "I'm sorry."
She doesn't know how to respond - Me, too? I know? I wish? - but there were too many ways to end the sentence starting with I wish for her to even begin to tackle it. None of it would be helpful, and they know it. One day, they'll say the words. One day soon, actually. They'll sit together, and they'll let it out. It will be horrible and incredibly cathartic. That day is not today.
Instead of replying, she leans over and simply lays her head on his shoulder. He is only surprised at the contact, not at the action. Their friendship has been growing closer since Jack left. They understand each other better now.
She doesn't have to say anything. He knows what she means.
Ianto doesn't press the issue. They're in the same boat, but they aren't.
~~~
She doesn't dream about how Rhys might have proposed, doesn't see scenes of them in a restaurant, in a park, with her family or with his family, the two of them alone somewhere.
She doesn't dream of a romantic dinner for two in their flat, the only illumination from the candles, of Rhys suddenly kneeling in front of her with a scared but expectant look on his face, of tears stealing down her face. She doesn't dream of Rhys accidentally collapsing onto the settee and her giggling acceptance and the two of them laughing on their way towards marriage and babies.
She doesn't.
(And anyone who says differently is a liar.)
~~~
Owen and Gwen come head to head over, of all things, whether or not the disappearance of the elderly Mrs. Dowling's pet iguana under very suspicious circumstances merited Torchwood investigation. It isn't a pretty fight. If it had been six months before, it would have resolved itself with frantic, angry sex played out in some hidden corner of their lives, painfully obvious to the rest of their teammates, but it would have been resolved, one way or another. Now, the game has changed. The two are no longer lovers, and they'd never had to practice their conflict resolution skills outside of the bedroom. Jack had always arbitrated their disputes with either cool decision or amused informality, as he had done with everything in Torchwood. They had never had to mediate, never had to meet somewhere in the middle - not professionally, at least.
Even Ianto notices the clash. He and Tosh become unwilling spectators to the argument. Tosh doesn't move, doesn't hardly breathe for fear of being pulled in and forced to choose a side. She's happier with dueling equations; there's no sulking or hurt feelings once one wins out over the other, which is bound to be the case here. The argument has ramped up to the absurd - if it hadn't been already, which was clearly a point up to some debate - and it's readily apparent that neither one is prepared to yield any ground to the other.
For his part, Ianto's been seeing the world as though he's been caught in molasses - or worse, in amber, as the case may be - and in a way, this cold war turned hot might just be the thing that brings him back to the present.
"He is gone," Ianto grinds out slowly, firmly, as though it costs him greatly to admit this fact, and it does. Even Owen has enough tact not to ask whether Ianto is referring to Jack or to the iguana, who was also male and could possibly qualify as the "he" in that statement. "He is gone, and we don't know how or why or how to get him back."
"Ianto," Owen says tiredly, "we don't even know whether Jack went unwillingly."
"Owen!" hisses Gwen. He has voiced a fear that they've all felt but not admitted aloud. Until now.
"What?" he explodes. "It's the truth, isn't it? It's the fucking truth! Open your eyes. Jack is gone."
"We don't know that." This, from Tosh.
"What, that he's gone?"
"Owen, don't do that, you know what I-"
"Jack wouldn't have left us!"
"Ianto, he as good as did. For all we know, he chose to leave."
"What's worse," Gwen says sadly, quietly, effectively cutting off the shouting match between Owen and Ianto about Jack's motivations or lack thereof, "is that he left us with nothing. Some training, yes, but we're so dependent on him for information, for answers, for everything. He made so dependent on him."
"You're right, Gwen. Fuck."
"We have to - we have to start from scratch. All of us. Together. Or else we're just going to keep falling apart."
"Right," Owen agrees again. "We have to work together. Can't be that hard, right?"
"I can-" Tosh breaks off, looking around. "I can start by collating and cross-referencing all the data we have against the information databanks recovered from - well, from Torchwood One, in London. Jack never let me do it before; he always said he never trusted them, that we were separate. But I can do it."
"That's good. That's a good start. But - do it tomorrow, Tosh. Right, Owen?"
"Yeah. Right now, we need drinks, and lots of them. And food. Is anyone else absolutely starving?"
"Let's all go grab a bite, then. Any preferences?" Gwen, the ultimate organizer.
"No meat."
"Still, Tosh?" A pause; Owen isn't really surprised. He's not entirely sure all of what Tosh went through those months ago, but then again, he hadn't really been paying attention to her at the time. "Right, I don't blame you."
"Come on," Gwen announces, "let's go. You can decide on the way. I don't care." As they start to file out, Gwen hangs back to see Ianto. "Are you-?"
"He's gone, Gwen."
"I know, sweetheart." Gwen is using the voice she uses with young children, or with scared people. The most reassuring voice she knows. "We have to get through it. Both of us." She pauses, grasping his hand and squeezing it gently. "I'm here for you."
~~~
Gwen's daily routine has changed; she is more settled into Torchwood than ever before, and this is a good thing - they have begun to start coming together. It is a typical day for Torchwood. It's Torchwood; typical varies. There's generally something in the mix they hadn't planned on.
She goes to the Hub, reviews Tosh's requests for new computer and power management equipment, Owen's request to convert the spare conference room into a greenhouse environment to house the variety of alien flora they encounter, and Ianto's request for more advanced weapons training.
She fields calls from UNIT now that they're actually answering the phone when UNIT calls, from the Prime Minister's office, and today, from a very confused actuary - and then she sets Ianto on tracking down how the actuary ended up with Torchwood's number in the first place and whether it's going to be a problem for them in the future. They don't like to use Retcon on unsuspecting people when they don't deserve it. Actually, they don't like to use Retcon much at all, but it's a weapon in their arsenal, and they'll use it if they have to, but it's become a last resort, rather than a first one. They can live with themselves a little more easily that way.
She looks over various police reports and notes the ones that seem to merit closer investigation by Torchwood. In addition to the ones she normally reviews, she gets a heads-up from Andy when there's something he finds odd enough to bring to their attention. Occasionally Owen slips pictures of iguanas and other reptiles into the files, just to see if Gwen will notice. Gwen's saving them so that she can one day paper over the entire autopsy bay with Owen's iguanas.
They're developing a healthier relationship. All of them.
~~~
It isn't long before the first iteration of the newly-created Torchwood Alien Plant Nursery goes awry, and not just because of arguments over the proper naming conventions for an alien plant nursery - also under consideration for its name is the Owen Harper Alien Plant Nursery, but that keeps getting voted down, to Owen's continued dismay.
Apparently, there is a certain variety of alien vine that becomes amazingly fast-growing when it senses any competition for resources. This is news to Team Torchwood.
They come in one morning to find the entire Hub filled, floor to ceiling, with vines in shades of fuchsia. Myfanwy doesn't even have room to stretch her wings; they can hear her screeching indignantly from her alcove, high above them. They are fortunate that the plant had not yet found its way up into the Tourist Office; that would have been difficult to explain had an unwary tourist wandered in. The team clears a path with the aid of some conveniently located fire axes - and they're curious why they have a stockpile of fire axes, but they're not going to look a gift fire axe in the mouth - while Tosh gets the rather enviable job of retreating to the Tourist Office and calling about the strongest herbicide they can find.
Surprisingly, Owen does not protest the unanimous decision for the use of an herbicide. His lone announcement on the matter - that is, when he takes a momentary break from the colorful stream of curses he's been letting loose with - is, "Just kill the damn thing. I've got a sample locked up." In response, Ianto glares at the back of his head. He is not the only one imagining a second round against the escaped plant.
No one remarks that Jack would have - might have - been able to tell them about this consequence ahead of time. They've learned to make do without his wealth of knowledge, both useful and trivial. They're learning to make do without him.
Owen develops expanded quarantine procedures by the end of the day, and without comment, Gwen stays late to help him implement them.
~~~
Torchwood becomes a much more efficient organization, in all respects, without Jack at the helm. No one will admit this.
Not out loud, at least.
~~~
She knows that one day Jack will come back. They all know this, in one form or another. For Gwen, it is no longer a blind faith in the constructed image of Captain Jack Harkness or his mythos. It is something she knows deep inside.
There are some days that she would gladly relinquish her expanded role in the Torchwood infrastructure to the first person who walked by, qualified or not - and wasn't that what had happened to her, and with this mantle thrust upon her shoulders? - because no one is truly qualified to run this madhouse. This is what she has learned.
Strangely, those days are becoming fewer and further between, and she has become more comfortable in her new position. She and Owen have developed or forged or stumbled into a workable balance between them. The details are unimportant, only that they are no longer succumbing to infighting. The power struggle is long over. The team has come back together, stronger now than before. They are growing together this time, and the changed environment is fostering new skills in each of them.
Gwen surprises herself; she is proud of her team. Her team.
She knows that Jack will return, and when he does, they'll be ready for him. She'll be ready for him.
He won't know what hit him.