(Untitled)

[ffyddlon]

Gwen’s not having a good day. In fact, as far as days have gone, this is probably the worst she’s had in a long while. She’s in the middle of a three day row with her husband over babies (What, exactly is she supposed to do? Drop them off at the nursery with the least sign of trouble Torchwood-way? Hardly.) and she’s in the middle of a bigger

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[cibosity]

The first thing that Sawyer's eyes land on is the gun. As far as he's concerned, it's a natural response, eyes scanning immediately for threats, a habit that probably won't ever wear off- and on the island, fortunately comes into use for his role as an officer with the IPD. There's a pistol stuffed into the waistband of his own jeans, though he doesn't bother to pull it out yet, wants to keep it concealed as well as he can for as long as he can in situations like these, with potentially unstable personalities.

Or maybe she's just new.

"Hold your horses there," he says first, voice slightly raised, though his expression is calm. Nothing but a day's work. "You've got questions, I've got answers, though I'd prefer if you put that pretty little pistol away first."

[ffyddlon]

Gwen doesn't realize for a moment she's still holding the gun and when he asks, she tucks it back into her holster, lowering the torch as well for good measure. When she was still a PC, she didn't have a gun, but a club and a nice Maglite torch could knock a man out long enough to get him down to the station to sleep it off.

"A name would be nice to start," she says, cool, Welsh manners lacing her tone in order to keep it even and easy.

[cibosity]

Could be worse, Sawyer thinks. Had it been several months ago and he found himself suddenly transported to an unfamiliar place, he wouldn't have put down his gun for the world. Apparently all it takes is a smoke monster and some time travel. Either she's learned to expect the unexpected, or she isn't the sharpest tack- and Sawyer's learned never to assume the latter.

"Sawyer. Name's Sawyer," he says, not quite lowering his hands all the way. "You're on an island called Tabula Rasa, which ain't anywhere near Cardiff, I've been here for over three quarters of a year, and I arrived exactly as you did. Outta nowhere and in the blink of an eye."

[ffyddlon]

Gwen's always been skeptical, just in her nature when she was a PC and now she thinks it adds some realism to the fantastic that is her job. She likes to test things, to see how they can fit her logic and sometimes she's bull-headed and belated to come to see that not all things fit in a box. Perhaps this island is one of those things that should stay outside the box entirely.

"Gwen Cooper," she says pleasantly, teeth working her lower lip for a moment while she thinks. "Three quarters of a year? Really? All this time and you've never tried to escape?"

[coffee_sir]

It wasn't as if he hadn't known this might happen. People came and went on the island; that was the only constant. For Christ's sake, Ianto had had to live through two separate runs of Owen on the island. If that wasn't enough to firmly establish the kind of pain the island was willing to inflict in a person's mind, nothing would

[ffyddlon]

Gwen was told that Ianto was here but it's still a shock to hear his voice and see him in this foreign place. She can't help but let her face crack in a wide grin, laughing and almost crying both at relief that he's here and disbelief that she's apparently been here before.

She's met his wife and his baby girl, seen Jack and now there's Ianto looking like he might be brewing some coffee any second. It's all she can do to keep from hugging him.

"I thought this time you'd be able to see through that trick, you see, so I didn't want to try the same thing twice. Always thinking, that's me."

[coffee_sir]

"You were always surprisingly clever," he allowed with a wry, teasing curve of his lips. He caught himself a moment after, shutting his eyes and shaking his head briefly at his own stupid mistake. "Are, sorry."

He took a deep breath and arched his eyebrows as he looked at her. "So the last thing I remember from home is Suzie dying the second time and I've heard tell enough to know what happened up to Jack disappearing," he said, glossing over the point that he had learned that not from their fellows coming from the future but from a reel on the bookshelf. "So you'll have to tell me if I've done something recently that would deny me a hug."

God, what was he now? Practically asking for a hug. But four and a half years was a long time and two and a half without Gwen felt like longer.

[ffyddlon]

"Nothing," Gwen says, pushing herself forward to hug him proper. It feels good to see Ianto again, even if she just saw him back home, and it's nice to know that even in this place that makes no sense she still has her anchors from home. No Owen, as far as she knows, and no Tosh, but Jack and Ianto are good enough. More than good enough.

"Last I saw you, you and Jack were..."

Gwen pauses, unsure if she should share it. She shakes her head and decides to go for it. What's the worst that could come of it?

"Romantic entanglement?"