Strangely Attractive
by kijikun (LJ | e-mail | comment) and miriel (LJ | e-mail | comment)
Torchwood | NC-17 | John Hart/Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones/Jack Harkness | 53,137 words"We're business partners, or were. That might not be a ring and a garter, but in my experience it lasts longer. Well, unless my business partner tries to kill me, but I never start it."
Beta: Hllangel
Art by Savi2070 (LJ | e-mail | comment) and Settiai (LJ | e-mail | comment)
There is cold metal against her back; it contrasts sharply with the heat of his body as he presses against her. He wants this as much as she does, that much is evident in the hard length she can feel through his trousers. That she wants this at all is a truth she admits only in the sanctuary of her mind, demonstrating her tacit approval by her lack of withdrawal. He knows her better than she knows herself, however, and she cannot suppress a moan as he rips off her blouse and his hands find her breasts. He is rough enough to be harsh, but still gentle enough to do no lasting damage as his nails and then his teeth scrape over sensitive skin.
She is naked now, but the night air is unseasonably warm. He kisses her, marks her, and she is appalled to find that she is near begging when he finally aligns his body with her own. He stops, then, quiet and insistent as he asks if she wants this. Part of her wants to scream "no!", that nothing good can come of this and that plenty of bad inevitably will. The greater part, the selfish part that tells Rhys she loves him because it's easier than letting him go, answers "yes."
He takes her acquiescence and runs with it, mouth fierce as he tastes her skin. Her breathless moan is cut short as he thrusts into her, and her world narrows further. He is ruthless, stronger than his slender frame suggests, and she loves it. She arches into him, wanting more, and he obliges. She rakes her nails down his back, marking him as his fingers mark her, bruises already forming in a messy semi-circle upon her hip. She is close, so close, and she curses him as he slows.
He smirks, voice whiskey rough as he rolls his hips once and stills them again. "Did you want something, luv?"
Frustrated, she reaches down to finish herself, but he catches her hand and pins it to the wall, shaking his head. "Now, now. That would be cheating."
She doesn't recognize her own voice as she asks, begs for completion. She refuses to give him the satisfaction of looking away, though, meeting his gaze in challenge even as her voice betrays her. He leans in, his kiss possessive and rough, only just this side of vicious. She would moan if she could find the breath, and she lets her eyes slip closed as she feels her climax building.
"Look at me." It is unmistakably an order, but one she has no intention of following.
She shakes her head, lost in the building sensation. He bites her neck, hard, and her eyes fly open in surprise. The last thing she sees as the endorphins flood her system is his smirk, hears his voice.
"Can't forget me, luv."
Gwen woke in a cold sweat, gasping for air and trying desperately not to wake Rhys. The dreams were getting more vivid, something she hadn't thought possible. She should tell Jack, but she knows she won't. The last thing the captain needs is to learn that she's been dreaming about that particular piece of rubbish from his past. The last thing she needs is to be dreaming about fucking him. She has a fiancé. She's even been trying to get home often enough to have something resembling a sex life again. There is no reason for Captain John Hart to be appearing in her dreams, but he is there just the same. More worrisome, he's gone from snogging her to fucking her senseless in less than two weeks.
Giving up on even the pretense of rest, she slid carefully out of bed, stilling her escape only a moment when Rhys muttered and shifted, waiting just long enough to ensure his return to deepest sleep.
The dreams continued, although they were sporadic and oddly temperamental. She never dreamed in the Hub, only at home, and while the theme was always sex with John Hart, the backdrop of the dreams began to change.
On an ordinary evening, two months after the dreams began, she stepped into the lift in her building, exhausted as she always was when shit hit the fan on a week night. As the door began to close, however, someone tagged the call button and stepped in beside her. It took a moment for her to realize that it was John Hart, corporeal and real. For a moment, she thought him a figment of her imagination, but after closing her eyes and counting to five he was still there. She resolved to ignore him, staring at the floor numbers as they slowly cycled, and hoping that he was just a result of one too many late nights in the Hub.
The illusion was shattered when he pressed her up against the wall and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Miss me, luv?" He kissed her cheek and walked out as the lift doors opened on his floor. She was so stunned by the action, she didn't even think to check what floor it was.
The next day, he caught her in the lift again. This time, he snogged her, and left her with a flat number and a time. In surprisingly few words, he'd made his offer clear. Have sex with him or he'd start causing problems for Jack.
Gwen rang the bell of what she assumed was John's flat. Whatever he wanted, she wasn't going to give into him, she told herself. Whatever game he was playing, she wanted no part of it.
For a long moment, she wondered if she had the right door, if Captain Hart would really be on the other side. She considered leaving, going back to Rhys who was sleeping soundly two floors above her, but she had no doubt that John would follow through on his threat. The last thing Jack needed was more reminders of his past showing up.
She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she missed the door opening. She blinked at the low chuckle that emanated from the man in the doorway, before scowling at his smug expression. "I'm here."
"So I've noticed, and that's a lovely look for you."
"Bastard," Gwen hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm here. Now what do you want?"
John smirked. "You say that as if it's a bad thing." He pushed off the doorway and stepped back into the flat. "Since you've been kind enough to stop by, I can't very well be inhospitable, now can I?"
"Look, you wanted me here, so, I am. Now tell me your terms, and leave the rest of the team alone."
He turned away, stepping over to a fully stocked bar. "No drink before business? I tend to like my business with my pleasure, but then you are a bit backward, aren't you?"
Gwen scoffed, still debating whether it was worth having it out in the hallway for all to see, or if she should chance entering the flat. She didn't want to give him any more of an advantage, but she also didn't want to make a scene.
He shook his head in mock pity and poured two tumblers of amber liquid. "Still, twenty-first century, what can I expect?"
Giving up what had been a futile battle from the beginning, Gwen stepped into the flat and pulled the door shut behind. After all, she was going to have to live in this building a lot longer than he was. "You probably drugged it."
He waved dismissively before offering her a tumbler. "Would I do that to you?"
She didn't take it. "Yes."
"Fair enough. Didn't this time, though. I prefer the right-minded willing." He didn't retract the hand with the glass.
She glared at the glass, making it the subject of her opinion on her current situation, but finally accepted it. "You seemed to prefer me paralyzed on the floor last time." She refused to think about the images 'right-minded willing' brought to mind, like the dreams of his body pressed against hers.
"Practicalities, luv. Bit of a time crunch, needed you out of the running while I took care of some business. Wasn't my first choice, trust me." He looked her over, leering at the cut of her tank top.
"I wouldn't trust you if my life depended on it, and I sure as hell wouldn't have shagged you," Gwen snorted. "What do you want, John?"
"Would have though that would be obvious, Gwen." When she failed to respond appropriately, he gestured pointedly with his glass. "You."
"Right, that's it." She set the glass down and turned to leave.
He chuckled darkly, a sound all the more chilling for its pleasantry. "I'm serious, luv. You. Willing."
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. "Are you crazy? You tried to kill me. Twice."
He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Nothing personal, just a cost of doing business. If you'll note, I didn't actually kill you. So I think that buys me a bit of leeway. And let's face it. You're attractive, and you're practically begging for it."
Gwen whirled around and glared at him. "I wouldn't beg you if you were the last man on Earth," she snapped.
"Ah, sadly no. But I am the one with the best offer, and I can guarantee I'm better than that bloke you've got upstairs."
"You leave Rhys out of this!"
"Give me a reason."
Gwen crossed her arms over her chest again. "I sleep with you, and you'll leave Jack and the rest of the team alone?"
"They'll never even know I'm here." He smiled pleasantly, and raised his glass. "Do we have an agreement?"
Gwen raised her glass reluctantly, then lowered it to glare at him suspiciously. "How do I know you'll keep your end?"
"Ask Jack. I always keep my word on business deals. Trick is the fine print."
"I want a contract then. In writing." Gwen raised her chin, giving him her best 'I'm a copper and you're scum, shut it and show me your hands' look.
"Can be arranged. Digital, or paper?"
Gwen blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected him to give in that easily. "Paper."
He nodded, and crossed to retrieve a paper from the desk in the corner of the lounge. "Is this sufficient?"
The paper provided a list of people whom he would not contact or harm. It also specified her voluntary participation in an "arrangement for mutual gratification."
"You already had one drawn up?" Gwen looked up from the paper in curiosity. "Or do you do this a lot?"
He shrugged. "Let's just say that I like to plan for all contingencies."
"Okay, fine," Gwen finally said. It wasn't cheating, she told herself. It was business. She wasn't going to let him ruin Jack's life.
"Right, if that's settled, then how about we get onto better things, yeah? Because this might take a while. In fact, I hope it does." He ran his eyes along her form again, and she was torn between feeling flattered and disgusted. "And some of us have to be up in the morning."
Gwen picked up her abandoned glass and took a long swallow. She figured she was going to need it. Besides, being poisoned might be the most harmless way out of this, all things considered. "Places to go, people to con?" she asked, trying not to shiver under his gaze.
He crossed the space between them, taking her empty glass and setting it on the bar before sliding his hand around her neck and into her hair. "Something like that." He tugged sharply, pulling her flush against his body.
She could feel his arousal through his trousers and her body reacted without her approval. "You're a bastard," Gwen told him. She curled her fingers into her hands to keep from grabbing hold of him. This was like one of her dreams, except that it was actually happening.
He leaned down, words ghosting against the shell of her ear. "Sorry to disappoint, luv. My parents were married." With that, he captured her mouth, not bothering with pleasantries as he took control of the 'conversation.'
Gwen allowed the kiss, opening up under his assault. It was better than the dreams, better than anything she'd gotten from Rhys lately. A tremor ran down her spine and she curled her fingers tighter instinctively in response. He broke the kiss, shifting his attention and biting into the soft skin where her neck and shoulder met, and Gwen cried out, body pressing against him out of pure instinct. Her hand uncurled almost against her will and gripped at his shoulder, digging in.
He murmured a Nurian curse against the soft skin of her throat as she finally responded, soothing the bite mark with his tongue before returning his attention to her lips. This time, when he kissed her she kissed back intensely, hands slipping into his hair in as she fought for control. He was tempted to let her have it, to see where she would take this, but that was for another day. Instead, he backed her against a wall as he pulled her camisole off.
Gwen ran her hands down his back then over his stomach, her fingers curling around the bottom of his shirt before shoving it up. She tugged at the undershirt as well until she could scrap her nails against bare skin.
He ground against her with a groan, using the friction to offset what was fast becoming a need for something far better than foreplay. It had been too long since he'd had a good fuck, and his cock was all too aware of it.
He slipped a hand into her pants, and found that she was just as eager as he was. He palmed her, finding her wet and willing as she arched into the touch.
Gwen moaned wantonly as she pressed against his hand. "Fuck," she breathed against his skin as she abandoned the buttons of his shirt and simply ripped the material apart before shifting her attention to the shaft straining against the fabric of his trousers. She grazed him with her fingers, using her nails through the fabric before she reached the top of his zipper and began to slowly ease it down.
Somewhere in there, her legs had begun to tremble, and she found herself relying more and more on John - Captain Hart- to hold her up. Her thoughts kept wandering, though. She was trying to remember the last time she'd been this worked up, she had wanted it this badly, and at that moment she couldn't swear that she had. She gave a triumphant smirk as she managed to get his trousers open and her hand inside, followed by a breathless moan as he scraped a nail along her clit.
He pulled away, closing his eyes and visibly pulling himself together before speaking. "You want to play it like that, luv?" Before she could say anything he was pulling her down the hallway and into the bedroom.
"Impatient?" she teased, pulling away from him once they reached the bedroom. She ran her fingers down her own chest and over her flat stomach.
He stripped his shirts, or at least what remained of them, off, enjoying the moment of distance to take in the sight of her skin. She was scarred, but it did nothing to detract from her natural beauty. He caught her near the bed and pulled her close. It wasn't something he allowed himself to indulge in often. Too many liaisons were fast and wary out of necessity, never in one place too long, and never sure of the motives of his companions. Gwen had her motives, and he had no doubt that she hated him, but they were motives he could use. She was safe, at least in that regard. He tilted his head, kissing her deeply before beginning his journey down her body.
"I'm probably not the sort you're used to bedding," Gwen murmured. "Pretty girls and boys like Jack, I'd wager."
He paused just below her belly button and looked up at her. "Yes and no. I've had my share of pretty boys and girls, to be sure, but Jack's not everyone's idea of pretty. There's something to be said for free-form genetic expression." He held her gaze a moment longer, and she was surprised by the seriousness she found there. It vanished between one moment and the next, and she forgot all about it as he slid her trousers and knickers to the floor.
She bit her lip to keep from begging him to put his mouth where she wanted it. Instead, she used him as balance and stepped out of the last of her clothing. Shifting again, she could feel how slick she was. Her mind rebelliously brought up a flash from one of her dreams: Captain Hart on his knees much like he was now, his mouth buried between her legs. He smirked to himself as he felt her tremble, and grasped her hips to steady her. "Do you want this now, luv?"
Gwen exhaled shakily and wet her lips before speaking. "Does it matter?"
He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the skin just above her hip, working the skin until he heard her moan. "Do you want this now?" he asked again.
Why do you care, she wanted to ask. "Yes." Her voice and her limbs were equally shaky. "Yes, I do." Her heartbeat echoed loudly in the confines of her mind, and for a moment she was back in one of her dreams. But then he gave a rough push and she fell back against the bed; it was far more real than the dreams had ever been. His lips ghosted over the mark he'd left on their way to taste what he'd been craving ever since he'd started this endeavour. Not to drive her to completion, because he was just far enough gone to know he'd never last long enough to bring her off again, but just a taste. For this time.
There would be others. He was certain of that, now. Ever since she'd turned around, he'd known that she was his to play with as he chose. He'd found his leverage, and he'd make the most of it until the time came to finish this little project and be on his way.
Gwen's hips arched up off the bed towards his mouth and clever tongue. "John," she whimpered unthinkingly. She clutched at the sheets as she let her legs spread further for him. She hadn't expected it to be like her dreams, in any way, or for him to take the time to give her something out of it. At the blatant invitation, John lowered his head and tasted her, tracing the delicate folds of skin with his tongue, savouring every moan and whimper the exploration pulled from her. He felt her tense, and at the last minute changed his mind and did not withdraw. Instead, he continued his ministrations until she shuddered in that oh-so-familiar way.
As she grew limp, breathing in ragged pants, he allowed himself an honest smile. There was nothing more satisfying than the giving of pleasure, knowing that he was responsible for that level of abandon, even if she hadn't entered the arrangement without a bit of persuasion. Her fingers carded through his hair as she tried to pull herself back together. There was the urge to say something, to tell him how much she'd enjoyed his attentions, but she repressed it. She hadn't come like that since...well, it didn't matter since when. She didn't want him knowing that she couldn't remember the last time.
He shivered as his control slipped, and a wave of her ebbing euphoria swept over him. His eyes closed, enjoying the dissociated pleasure before his body reminded his sharply of its own needs. He caught her eye as he stood, and smirked at her appreciative glance. "See anything you like?"
"Maybe," Gwen allowed wetting her lips again. She pushed herself up to a half sitting position that allowed her to wrap her hand around his cock. She stroked him once. "The question is, do you know how to use it as well as you brag to?"
"Luv, I am better than I claim to be." He gasped as she slid her hand along his length again, the pressure constant but not nearly enough to finish him off. "Oh, that's nice." He thrust again, and reached blindly for one of the condoms he'd set out earlier on the bedside table. "But I know something better."
"Do you?" Gwen smirked, taking the condom from his fingers. Ripping open the foil packet, she removed the condom and slowly slid it on him.
As she finished, he grasped her shoulders and pressed her down against the bed. "Time to find out." He braced himself, and then he was buried in her heat in the space of a single thrust. He let his eyes slide closed for just a moment before he started to move again, movements deep and rough. He wasn't gentle, but then, she didn't want gentle. Neither of them did.
Gwen gasped at sensations each thrust pulled from her. Her nails scrapped down his back as she moved under him. "Harder," she mouthed into his skin, wrapping her legs around him.
He took her whisper as the final release; never could she say that she hadn't asked for this. Wanted this. Now, now he could do as he liked without fear of repercussion. He shifted with his next thrust, adjusting both his angle and his grip on her shoulders, and leaned down to catch a nipple between his teeth. He bit down hard enough to bruise, and was rewarded by a tightening of the hand she had threaded through his hair. So she liked pain, after all.
This time, when he felt her begin to tense, he took it as tacit permission to increase the strength of his thrusts even as he felt his control deteriorating. He was ready when she arched beneath him in the first throes of orgasm, nails raking down his back. With a final thrust, he allowed himself to follow her into the little death, pain accenting the pleasure beautifully.
John waited until her breathing evened out before speaking. "Any regrets?"
Gwen inhaled sharply, looking at the man beside her. She sat up and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.. "You have to ask?"
He shrugged, and pulled himself to a sitting position as well. "Know you liked it. That's different than regrets."
Gwen pressed her lips into a hard thin line. It would have been easier if she hadn't liked it, if she could have written it off as a one-way exchange. She stood, gathering her clothes and pulling them on as she found them. She frowned as she realized her camisole was missing. "I need to go. Rhys will wake up soon."
John glanced at the bedside clock and raised an eyebrow. "At 3:30?"
Gwen glared at him, not bothering to cover her bare chest. "He gets up early sometimes.
"Whatever you say." He smirked. "Lovely tits, by the way. Planning to give the neighbours a show?"
"Arsehole," Gwen spat, hands on her hips. "Where'd you throw my shirt, anyway?" She wanted to go back to her flat and shower.
He spread his hands innocently. "Haven't a clue, but if I had to guess..." He leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed a tank top, tossing it at her. "Happy?"
She glared at him again, pulling on the tank top with a huff. "I'll be happy when you leave for good."
He shook his head in a mocking attempt at apologetic. "Sorry, luv. Could be a while before that happens."
Gwen found her shoes and jammed her feet into them without bothering to pop the backs into place. "Just keep your end of the deal," she told him, heading towards the door.
He didn't bother to get out of bed. "Oh, I will." He smirked, raising his voice to be sure that she heard him as she crossed the lounge. "The question is, will you?"
Her hands curled into fists, but she didn't turn to look at him. "You keep your end, and I'll keep mine." She yanked the door open with more force than was necessary.
"Call me!"
"Bite me!" She snapped before slamming the door. She stood there in the hallway, trembling in anger and trying to push everything into perspective. It was a business arrangement, nothing more. Something just this side of prostitution, but it would be worth it if he kept his end. After she had composed herself, she made her way up to her flat and her innocently sleeping fiancé. Instead of crawling into bed beside him, she turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and cried herself out under the scalding spray.
Gwen limped out of the lift wishing Owen had given her stronger pain meds. He'd refused, when she'd pushed the issue, pointing out that she wasn't fit for more than going home to bed, and what he'd given her was sufficient for that. She grimaced, wishing that she'd been quick enough to come up with a believable lie - she hadn't exactly been able to tell him what her plans for the night included (whether she liked it or not). So she'd persevere. She'd fuck John, and then she'd go home. Maybe he'd settle for a blow job...Gwen winced as she made her way down the hall...Strike that, she didn't think kneeling was on the agenda after getting up close and personal with a Weevil.
Leaning against the wall, she rang the buzzer and waited.
John had almost given up on her when the buzzer rang. He tossed back his double vodka and left the glass on the bar as he stalked to the door and yanked it open. "You're late."
"So? I'm here, aren't I?" Gwen scowled at him, trying not to limp too much as she pushed past him.
He raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "Well, come on in. Make yourself at home, even."
She ignored him and made her way over to the bar and poured herself a drink. To hell with not mixing alcohol and pain killers, she was going to need this. "Telling me to leave?"
He closed the door and leaned against the wall in the entryway. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm sick of this game."
She took a hard swallow of whiskey. "You're sick of this game," she snorted under her breath. Gwen leaned against the wall behind her. She wished he would come closer, so that she could just get it over with.
He pushed off the wall, strolling toward her with studied casualness. "Maybe...it was fun while it lasted. Or, wait, I know - We can still be friends. Except, hold on, we never were friends. So I guess that's a wash, eh?"
Gwen finished her glass and sat it down. "Can we just get on with it?" she asked tiredly. She pushed herself off from the wall as he came closer.
"No, I don't think so. It's been, what, a month? It's been fun, but really...You don't want to be here, and I'm tired of playing the evil villain."
She nodded curtly, half wondering if anyone would notice if she went back to work and slept on the couch. With her luck, Jack would be around and he'd just shoo her back to her flat. "I'll just be going then," she told him, heading for the door, trying not to think about the fact that she would miss the sex, or that she was wincing with every step. How much of her thigh had that damn weevil taken out, anyway?
John frowned as her limp became apparent. "Hold up there, soldier."
"What now?" Gwen asked, looking back at him over her shoulder. She hated how weak her voice sounded, how much it betrayed.
He looked her over, gaze appraising in an entirely different manner, looking for weakness. He had the right to cause her pain, to mark her. And this time, he hadn't been the one to do so. His eyes settled on her right leg, narrowing in suspicion. "What happened?"
Gwen shook her head. "Nothing," she protested. He'd laugh at her if anything.
"Luv, if you're going to lie, at least try to be more convincing. You're the walking wounded. There's muscle damage and possibly connective tissue damage on your right leg. Couch. Now."
She scowled at him. "How about I go back to my flat instead."
"I must be losing my touch, did that sound like a request?"
Gwen hands curled into fists, but she made her way to the couch and gingerly sat down on it. She bit her bottom lip to keep from wincing. "It's nothing. Owen already treated it."
"Oh yes, and you expect me to believe that idiot knows what he's doing?" He waited until she was seated before walking into the kitchen and pulling a bag out of a low cabinet.
"He's a doctor. Last time I checked, you weren't," Gwen shot back. "And he might be a prat, but Owen's a good doctor."
"I'm supposed to believe that?" John scoffed, setting the bag on the island and opening it. "If he were any kind of a doctor, you wouldn't be limping like someone ripped your bloody kneecap off."
Gwen sighed. "A weevil took a swipe at me, got my thigh pretty good," she finally told him. She couldn't understand why he even cared that she was hurt.
"A 'Weevil'. How quaint." He found what he was looking for and turned to face her. "Trousers off."
She considered arguing with him but feared he might just cut the trousers off of her. Very gingerly she peeled them off, revealing the bandages on her upper right thigh, that were slightly pink. Gwen grimaced. Owen had said to call him if that happened, but she doubted John would let her now. "Maybe quaint to you."
John rolled his eyes. "Lovely. If you had stitches, you've now popped them. And if the way you were stomping around here is any indication, very intimidating, by the way, you're not on decent pain killers either." He knelt down next to her, examining the area surrounding the bandage.
Gwen opened her mouth to defend Owen, then closed it again. "I can change my bandage myself you know," she said softly. "I don't need your help."
"Gwen, even those of us from the 51st century can't apply a clinical dressing to the back of our own thigh. There's a reason Time Agents work in teams."
"I don't need your pity," she told him, watching him closely. He studied the bandage for a moment before pulling a small device out of his pocket and waving it over the dressing. It emitted a blue light, and when it shut off the bandage was gone. "Neat trick."
He smirked. "Comes in handy. Now, let's take a look, eh?"
It was a rather nasty wound and she was clearly lucky it hadn't taken more. Gwen had curled a hand into the material of the couch. "Why are you doing this? Do just like seeing me in pain?"
"Let's face it, luv. You're just not that high on my priority list." He rolled his eyes before standing again and returning to the kit on the island and swapping out the defabricator for a pressurized medical injector. "And I only like my pain in certain settings. This? Not my style."
She watched him chewing on her bottom lip. "Only like when you inflict it, huh?"
"Look, Gwen. It's one thing to fuck around with you to get at Jack. Bastard's got it coming, and if you put Jack above your fiancé, then you've got bigger problems than me. Even in the twenty-first century."
"Leave Rhys out of this," Gwen said tightly, teeth gritted against the pain.
"Roll over." John dropped back to his knees and peered at the injury again, continuing the conversation as he prodded at the inflamed skin surrounding the lacerations. "Why, because he's your convenient excuse? Sorry, luv. I don't believe in that brand of denial."
She did what he said, and winced at his prodding. "Not like anyone else will have me," she whispered into her folded arms.
"That's utter shite, and you know it." He glared at the cuts for a moment, before tapping a few buttons on the side of the injector and pressing it against the skin just beside the largest of the lacerations. She jumped at the cold sensation, but gave no other reaction to the drug, which he took to be a good sign.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Because you know my life inside and out."
He smirked at her. "No, I just know you inside and out." He stood, knees cracking as he did so, and moved to drop into the armchair to her left. "And I think you'll find I'm rather good at reading people. If you wanted, you could have Jack. You've had that doctor bloke at least once. Which means that your Rhys isn't all he's cracked up to be."
"Jack has Ianto, and Owen..." She scowled as she gingerly sat up, trying to peer back at her thigh. Why was she telling him this? "Rhys loves me."
"Really? Could've fooled me. You're down here what...two? Three times a week? How long since you've had sex with the lights on, or at all? Either he's bloody blind, or he just doesn't care anymore."
Gwen pressed her hands together playing with her engagement ring. She and Rhys hadn't had sex for almost two weeks, and she honestly hadn't missed it. She had to blink rapidly to clear her eyes. "He's all I have outside of Torchwood."
"No, he's not."
Gwen looked over at him. "And who would that be?"
He tossed the injector at the open bag on the island. "I think I'm insulted."
Gwen sighed and started to reach down for her trousers. "John, we fuck, that's all. You don't even...we don't..."she shook her head not sure what she was trying to say. Not sure why the distinction mattered.
"We're business partners, or were. That might not be a ring and a garter, but in my experience it lasts longer. Well, unless my business partner tries to kill me, but I never start it."
Gwen pushed herself up off the couch. "You don't even like me." She moved to face him, determined to retain at least some dignity.
"Never said I didn't like you. I'm just a pragmatist, and not exactly looking to set up house here." He watched as she wavered on her feet for a minute before stabilizing. "Oh, and I wouldn't go too far if I were you."
She had to catch herself on his shoulder to keep from losing her balance. "What was in that shot?"
"Nothing harmful, just something to help with the pain." As she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off. "I don't know what Jack's told you, but I wouldn't dope you, not like this. It's non-addictive, and it'll be gone by morning."
"Oh," Gwen managed. "I guess I should say thank you." Impulsively she bent down and kissed him.
He caught her as she overbalanced, settling her onto his lap and shaking his head gently. "It's a start, yeah. Look, I'm not asking for a romance here. Quite frankly, I don't want one, and I've no idea how long I'm sticking around. But I wouldn't mind continuing our arrangement."
"Alright," Gwen agreed with more ease than she'd thought possible. She kissed him again, figuring she could blame on the drugs, the whiskey, anything.
He returned the kiss briefly, before shifting her weight so that he could stand with her in his arms and begin walking to the bedroom. "I believe in consent, Gwen. This time, you want it? You're in full willing, not just because of Rhys." He shushed her with a shake of his head. "Answer me in the morning."
Gwen nodded after a moment, enjoying the feel of his arms more than she should have. She didn't understand why her consent was so important to him, but it painted a different picture than Jack had presented when he'd introduced John. No longer quite aware of what she was doing, Gwen kissed just under John's ear, a spot that always had gotten to him before.
He froze, just on the threshold of the bedroom, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he continued in. "Nice try, but I was in love with Jack Harkness, so I've plenty of experience ignoring seduction. I'll give you credit for effort, though." He set her down on the bed, and turned to pull his shirt off in preparation for sleep. "You're feeling better now, but you don't get to do anything for eight hours. Then. Then we can negotiate."
"Everyone's in love with bloody Jack Harkness," Gwen complained, watching him from the bed.
"Don't worry. Some of us fall out of it again."
"How's that working for you?" she asked as he slid into bed next to her. It was strange, she was so used to Rhys being asleep when she climbed into bed that this felt...odd.
He rolled over, shifting so that he faced the door. "Ten years and some can do amazing things. So can breaking your heart a few times."
"I don't think he means to do it." She wasn't sure if she was defending Jack or offering John comfort.
He shrugged, confident in the knowledge that she wouldn't remember the conversation in the morning. Only one half of one percent did. "That's the kicker, innit? The first time, he didn't know what he was doing - all good intentions, duty and honour. This time 'round? Oh, he knew. Maybe not everything, but enough that I can't forgive him again. Gods, the Time Agency fucked us all over but good."
Gwen leaned forwards slightly across the bed and kissed him softly. "I'm sorry."
He laughed softly, and without humour. "Yeah, so am I." He settled an arm gently around her waist and relaxed in preparation for sleep. "So am I."
Gwen murmured sleepily, her eyes already drifting closed.
John woke with a start, a warm body beside him where one shouldn't be. He was up, pistol in hand before he realized that the body was not only asleep, but familiar. He took a deep breath, and then another, before easing the gun back down under his pillow.
Gwen stirred, making a noise of protest at his movements. She flung a arm over his waist, settling down contentedly against him. A few moments later, she blinked her eyes open sleepily. He could tell when it set in where she was, the look of contentment on her face replaced with wariness as she looked up at him. "Uhm, hi."
"Morning, luv." He shifted, settling back against the headboard. Might as well get the awkward discussion out of the way sooner rather than later. But first things first... "How do you feel?"
Gwen removed her hand from its resting place on his stomach, and put more space between them as she sat up. "Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest, grudgingly elaborating at his expectant hand gesture. "Better."
"Ah, good. Now, lie back down. And roll over."
Gwen frowned at him. "What?"
"You had some nasty cuts last night." He patted the mattress. "Down. On the bed, ass in the air. Let me look."
She looked at him suspiciously for a moment longer before she did lie back down and roll on to her stomach. "That had better not be a line," she muttered under her breath.
He chuckled darkly as he slid the sheet down, skimming his hand along her thigh as he did so. "Remember who you're talking to."
Gwen looked back over her shoulder at him and glared. "Not likely to forget."
"Oh, good." He brought his hand back up, and shifted to get a better look at her injury. "So, how much do you remember from last night?" He paused, poking at the edge of a newly healed scar.
"About what exactly?" Gwen hedged, mentally reviewing the night before. Things became fuzzy about the time he'd put her in bed.
Mild sedative-induced amnesia, duly noted. "About me fucking you through the mattress." He continued prodding at the newly healed skin.
Gwen snorted, then shivered again wishing he'd stop being so gentle. "As I remember it you said..." She pressed her lips together, remembering suddenly what he had said. That he wanted her full consent this time. Willingly.
"You didn't fuck me last night."
Satisfied that the skin had knit properly, he pulled the sheet back up and let his head fall back against the wall. "No. No, I didn't. I don't believe in forced sex, Gwen. Pushing the envelope, yes, but you've always been able to walk away. The pain-killer last night took that away from you, and I'm not that particular breed of bastard."
Gwen rested her chin on her folded arms as she watched him. "You really aren't, are you?" she mused softly. He really was only half the bastard Jack painted him as.
"Don't go getting all rosy on me." He turned away, pushing off the bed and staring restlessly into the closet. "I'm no saint, either, as you well know."
"Wasn't about to mistake you for that," Gwen laughed, then sobered. "Yes, by the way."
He stilled, hand resting on the closet door. "Yes?"
"About...continuing...this..." She waved her hands between them. "This...thing between us."
John turned, and smirked at her. "All right, then. New arrangement it is." He grabbed a shirt from the closet and pulled it on as he crossed the room. "Now that's settled, I could do with a cuppa."
Gwen shook her head in amazement - and not a little confusion - as he left the room without a backwards glance. She'd assumed he'd want to hit the sheets once the deal was struck, especially with it being four days since their last encounter. She didn't know what to make of it, didn't think she wanted to think too hard about the hows or the whys of what she was doing in John Hart's flat on a morning after that wasn't a morning after.
He'd known something was off when she'd arrived. Gwen was always anxious when she showed up at his door, but this was different. She'd accepted his offer of a drink, and downed two shots in quick succession.
He hadn't pressed, because he really didn't want to know - complications weren't his thing, especially when someone was a means to an end. The sex had been spectacular as usual, if he did say so himself, but the afterglow had him on edge. He'd made a quip about her hair, and she'd just nodded and continued tracing designs on his chest as she lay on top of him.
Gwen had her eyes closed, tracing the patterns blindly. "Least no one can question my abilities in this," she giggled half to herself, though she knew it wasn't very funny.
"I know I'm going to regret this, but anything you care to share, luv?"
Gwen sighed against his skin. "He acts like I wasn't the one holding the team together when he took off," she snorted. "Bloody hell wasn't Ianto's coffee doing it. He acts like I can't handle myself."
"Jack's being a prat, then? No surprise there."
Gwen opened her eyes and lifted her head to peer down at John. "He's undermining my authority with the rest of the team. How are they supposed to take any orders from me seriously if he comes along and tells them to do just the opposite?" She dropped her head back down.
John ran a hand down her back, considering his response. "Jack needs to be the centre of attention. He has ever since I've known him. You get used to the shadows. Doesn't mean anything about your abilities."
"I just want him to respect those abilities," Gwen said softly, not even sure why she was telling him this. But he listened and that helped. Even now that Rhys knew about Torchwood she couldn't talk to him like this. "And to listen to me and actually hear what I'm saying." She traced a long white scar the crossed his collar bone as she spoke.
John shrugged. "Jack listens, don't kid yourself. He wouldn't keep you on if you weren't earning your keep. He's pretty, but he made it into the Agency on his brain and not his back. If you want recognition, get another job. Jack gets it done, but he's shit when it comes to the rest."
She was quiet for a moment, still tracing the scar. "You know him pretty well," she observed.
John's hand stilled. "I did. Seven years, a long time ago. He...we fell out."
"I'm sorry." Maybe it was the alcohol still in her system, or maybe it was something else, but something in his voice made her heart ache. She dropped a kiss to his chest.
He turned his head away, focusing on the far wall. "Yeah, well. Time passes, one way or another. Ancient history. It's never his fault, but he always hurts those close to him."
Gwen nodded and closed her eyes again, letting the sound of his heart beat lull her. "He's good at that."
John resumed stroking her back, and shot a glance at the clock as he heard her breathing slow. "Aren't we all?"
Her only response was a soft sound of contentment as she slipped into sleep. He shifted to get more comfortable, and reached over to tap the kill switch on his wrist strap. She could afford a few hours of sleep before she had to run back to her own version of compulsory civil service
Gwen pressed the buzzer to John's flat, chewing on her bottom lip. She'd thought Rhys was starting to understand how important her job was, thought they were actually understanding each other. And now, he'd gotten mad that she'd come home early! She'd left him be, telling him she was going back to work since he obviously didn't want her around, but she didn't want to deal with Jack's constant pushing.
John frowned at the sound of the buzzer, cracking his back as he made his way to the door. "Hold your bleeding horses." He glanced out the peephole, and blinked in surprise before opening the door. "Gwen?"
"Haven't changed my name recently," she said rolling her eyes. "Can I come in?"
John ran a hand through his hair, and blinked again at the woman standing on his doorstep, taking in the trails of mascara on her cheeks. "Yeah, all right." He turned around and headed back toward his desk. "I've got to finish this portfolio, but you're welcome to the couch."
"Any beer in the fridge?" she asked, dropping her purse by the door as she entered and shut the door behind her. Then did a double take. "Portfolio? Are you telling actually have a job?" she teased, though she knew damn well he did. Just not what sort.
He nodded from his desk, and gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. "In the icebox, but don't touch the purple unless you want to lose a week." He paused, tapping a few keys as he chewed on his stylus. "What do you mean 'actually have a job'? Don't think the flat pays for itself, do you?"
Gwen pulled out a beer with a label she recognized and headed back into the lounge. "You mean you didn't get it on your charm and your back?" she smirked settling down on the couch.
"Now that's just cruel." He responded absently. "I have more self-respect than that." He paused, frowning at the screen. "And it's more work than it sounds, believe me."
Gwen took a long swig of beer and propped her feet up on the table. She didn't think John was the sort to care about something like that. "In that case, mind me asking what sort of work you're doing?"
He tapped a few more keys, and then initiated the system shutdown before turning to face her. "I consult." At her pointed 'and...?' gesture, he elaborated. "Banking security systems, to be more specific. I proof base code before it goes into general use."
Gwen blinked. "Not the sort of job I saw you in." She shook her head, but didn't bother to hide her smile. "Don't let me interrupt if you've got a lot to get done."
"That was the last of it." He pushed back from the desk, stopping at the bar to pour himself a glass of clear liquid. "Not flashy enough for you, luv?"
Gwen regarded him for a moment. "Flashy isn't everything. If you like it, who cares what I think." Her fingers traced the opening of her beer bottle.
He took a sip of his drink, watching her and wondering what she was doing there. She was obviously upset, the smudged make-up attested to that, but she wasn't due for another two days. However, if she didn't want to talk, he wasn't going to press. Booze was seriously underrated as a coping mechanism, he could attest to that. "You need another beer, Gwen?"
"Yeah, I think I do," Gwen sighed, half wondering what the hell she was doing there. She should go back upstairs and talk to Rhys but... "He got pissed I was home early. Can you believe that?" she snorted.
John frowned, and tossed back the last of his drink before wandering into the kitchen to grab another beer for her. "You two exclusive?"
Gwen turned a bit red. "Well," she paused for a moment. "Far as he knows we are. Not that this counts."
John rolled his eyes as he pulled a carton of leftover takeaway out of the fridge and put it in the microwave. "Course not. This is business. Completely different. Food?"
"What is it? I've had enough Indian for a week," Gwen said wrinkling her nose slightly.
"It's Chinese. You don't like it, the phone's on the table."
"Nah, its fine," Gwen told him, getting up and walking into the kitchen to ditch her empty beer bottle. She paused, leaning against the wall and watching him work as he pulled the ad hoc meal together. He seemed surprisingly at home in the kitchen. It wasn't what she'd have expected from a manipulative bastard like him. Although he wasn't what she expected from a manipulative bastard like him half the time. "Need any help?"
He glanced up, surprised to find her hovering on the threshold. "Almost done." He set two plates down on the island-slash-breakfast bar, along with a full beer. "Don't hover, you remind me of my old boss."
"I'm not hovering, I'm observing," Gwen laughed, ditching her empty bottle in the recycling bin. Sliding up beside him she surprised herself by kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Thanks." She didn't linger to see his reaction, moving over to examine the island and its accompanying stools.
He pondered her 'thanks', surprised and more than a little pleased by the comment. "Laws of hospitality, luv." It was the easiest way to brush it off, not think about why he'd allowed her in out of turn. To simply fall back on the laws of sanctuary from his childhood. "And that's what he said. But somehow, I always ended up with a write-up because he needed to look like he was cracking down on inefficiencies."
He considered the kiss as he moved dishes and cleared leftover rubbish. It was an anomaly, unexpected and unanticipated. It wasn't part of the arrangement, and while the arrangement had run on longer than expected, it had all gone according to plan. Thus far. The drawn out build-up would only make the end revelation that much sweeter, that much more painful for Jack when he realized what had happened. It was just like any other con, even if the payoff was more personally satisfying than normal.
John was good at cons, he understood them and he had just enough charm to pull them off. As long as he stuck to the plan, did his homework. He'd spent ten years pulling odd jobs, and he fancied himself quite the expert on the subject. Where you got into trouble was when you deviated from the plan. People like Jack could deviate and get by, but John had never had that kind of luck. The kiss had been light, almost innocent, with no discernable motive behind it. It was disconcerting, and he found himself studying her in turn as she hopped up onto one of the stools and began fiddling with the odds and ends he'd left on the unused end of the island. Either she was much better than he had given her credit for, or he'd deviated from the plan more seriously than he'd realized. Neither was an appealing prospect.
"I promise not to write you up for any inefficiencies, then," Gwen teased lightly, smiling at him over her shoulder.
"You'd have to figure out where to send the reprimand, first." He smirked, and pulled the carton out of the microwave. "I like to think I'm pretty damn efficient these days, anyway. I learn my lessons well, or so they told me."
"Hmm, who are they?" Gwen asked curiously, watching him.
"Where to start...The matrons, the academy instructors, and I seem to remember a rather frustrated prison guard at one point."
Gwen nodded, taking it all in and wondering absently if any of it was true. This was a distraction from Rhys, from all the things she should be wondering about with the man she was planning to marry. It might make her a bad person, but she'd rather have this distraction than any of those issues. She'd have to face them eventually, but they could wait. Rhys could wait.
John grinned, the closest thing she'd seen to an honest smile on his face. "They never could find a cell that'd hold me." The smile darkened, faded, and he looked away. "Never should have had to, either."
Gwen knew her pity was the last thing he wanted; she'd been in Torchwood too long to be ignorant of that particular tendency. Instead of offering it, she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing gently in concession of the unfairness of the universe, even if she wasn't at all sure he hadn't deserved the sentence. "Maybe you could teach me a thing or two, someday. At least enough so I can figure out how Janet keeps getting out then," Gwen said lightly. She tugged on his hand, pulling him closer to the table and the waiting food. "Come on, let's eat."
He shivered, closing his eyes as he shed the melancholy with practiced ease. While he'd never ascribed to Jack's theory of repression, there was something to be said for an organized mind. "Right. Have at it, then. But if you're going to abuse my hospitality, the least you can do is show me a good time in exchange for your meal."
She took the offered out, and pretended to be appalled at the innuendo. "Why, Captain Hart, are you threatening my virtue?" She slid her hand up his arm, squeezing his bicep gently through his shirt before leaning in and dropping her voice to a whisper. "I think I can do better than just 'good'..."
"I'll believe that when I see it." He pulled out of her grip, catching her hand and placing a brief kiss on the palm before taking his own seat. "First, though, I'm going to eat. Because it's been a long day, and some of us actually have something resembling a schedule." With that, he turned his complete attention to the food, leaving Gwen to pick at her own plate and wonder what exactly had been said in the exchange, and if she understood the half of it.
It wasn't until hours later, as they lay on the couch in a sweaty mess, that she told him the rest of it. Rhys' accusations, the old and the new and the just plain stupid shit that shouldn't hurt but did. He'd said nothing, and she'd been grateful just to have somewhere to speak the words.
It was easy to lose track of time working for Torchwood. Gwen lost whole days, both literally and figuratively.
So she could be excused from realizing that she was late until two weeks had passed.
And she could also be excused from letting another two weeks go by before she realized that it wasn't just "stress" and the occasionally bizarre eating habits that came from working for Torchwood.
Which left her in a bit of a rough spot, however, when she needed to know if it was all in her head. She couldn't take a test at home, there was too much chance that Rhys would see it - either in the bathroom, or in the rubbish - and she knew there was no chance it was his. They'd had sex twice in the last month, and neither time had there been a concern over the condom. John... Well, that was another story.
She didn't fancy a public bathroom, either. Taking a test in a pub, or even at the mall, seemed not only juevenile, but given her luck she'd still run into someone she knew. And taking one at work was right out. Ianto would probably find something and tell Jack, and she didn't want Jack knowing anything about this. Especially if it turned out to be all in her head.
Which left her with one option. Owen.
He was a prat, but he did have professional ethics. They all had their secrets, and she was sure they could work out some kind of an arrangement. God, now she was even thinking like John.
She cornered Owen one day when no one else was about. "Got a minute?"
He didn't bother looking up from his game of Solitaire. "What's it to you?"
"I have a...favour to ask," Gwen sighed. "I'm probably being stupid, but I'd rather find out sooner rather than later."
He frowned at her for a moment, then stood abruptly. "Right, well if it's anything like the last time you asked me for a favour, I think you and I are going to take a constitutional. Fancy grabbing lunch out?"
Gwen nodded. "Yeah, all right," she told him. At least he hadn't started teasing her yet, but then for all he knew she needed an HIV test. "Indian?"
He pulled on his jacket and nodded. "Indian it is."
He said nothing else until they were a block and a half down the street, halfway to their "regular" Indian cafe. "So, what seems to be the problem? Because if you're asking me for a favour, then it's got to be good."
Gwen shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets and kept her eyes on the pavement. She wondered if by John's time women had easier ways of dealing with these sort of things. "I think I might be pregnant." She said bluntly.
Owen stumbled, taking several quick steps before righting himself. "It's not Rhys', I take it?"
She shook her head, wishing she felt more guilty about that. "You'd be taking it right."
He pursed his lips, and then let out an explosive breath. "Jesus, Gwen. Diggin' your own grave, you are. How certain are you? I can run the blood work, easy enough to bury and I can always do with a favour or two, but..."
Gwen bit her lip, carefully focusing on a lamp post down the street. "I'm four weeks late, and I know. It's....it's complicated Owen."
"Gwen, sweetheart, we're Torchwood. It's always complicated. Look, I figured you were seeing some bloke on the side, and I'm not judging. Fuck if I know why you're still hanging onto Rhys, but that's your business. But you can't ride the fence on this one, Gwen."
She wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. "I know, Owen," her voice was soft. "I just want to know for sure before I have to decide anything. Didn't exactly plan on this, you know?"
He sighed, and draped an arm across her shoulders. "I never thought you did, Gwen. I just want to make sure you understand my position. Once that test comes back, I'm giving you a week to make up your mind. It gets any longer, I'll tell Jack, because it'll affect your field status."
She let her head rest against his shoulder for a moment. "Thank you, Owen."
"You're going to have a rough enough time of it, don't need me making it any worse."
He turned, guiding her into the little cafe. "Lunch is on me, yeah? Unless nothing's staying down..."
Gwen laughed, happy for a reason to blink back the tears. "I can survive lunch," she assured him rolling her eyes.
"Ah, good. Because I'm in the mood for a good curry, and I'd hate to have to get take-away out of courtesy."
Gwen was pathetically grateful that Rhys was away on work that night so she didn't have to make up an excuse for getting home late. Her hands shook in her pockets as she made her way to the door of John's now-familiar flat. She pushed the buzzer and stood waiting. The seconds crawled by and she started wondering if he was even there. What if he--what if he was gone? What if he'd gotten tired of whatever game it was he was playing and had left?
She pulled in a shaky breath to calm herself. She was not going to start crying in the hallway. She was not going to be a typical 'girl' over this.
John made it to the door just as the buzzer sounded for the third time, trying to figure out who the hell it could be. It couldn't be Jack, because Jack wouldn't have bothered buzzing - he'd have kicked the door in. Which left delivery, unlikely, or Gwen. Damn, he'd been meaning to just give her a key. Every single time she showed up unexpectedly, he was always at the far end of the flat. Or worse. He glanced down and hitched his towel tighter. He didn't care if the hallway saw him naked, but Gwen got rather noisy when he answered sans covering.
He yanked the door open. "Yes, what?"
Gwen jumped slightly when he opened the door, half turned like she was about to leave. She looked incredibly young for a moment standing there, chewing on her bottom lip with an expression somewhere between uncertainty and determination. "This a bad time?" she asked.
He sighed, debating for a moment whether to just tell her off and deal with her tomorrow. He was exhausted, sore, and he hadn't finished his shower. He must be getting soft in his old age. "Come in, I'll be back in a mo." He turned, leaving her standing on the threshold as he retreated to his bathroom and clothing that wasn't likely to fall off.
Gwen shut the door behind her and made her way to the couch, leaving her coat on the rack. He was annoyed with her for showing up tonight, she could see it in his face and hear it in his voice. But at least he was still there, part of her brain pointed out in relief. Normally John in nothing but a towel would have made her likely to jump him and remove said towel...
As he pulled on a pair of track bottoms and a tank top, John tried to sort out what could have prompted the unexpected visit. Normally, she only showed up without warning if she'd had a row with her 'fiancé', or if she'd had a truly shit day at work. Rhys was out of town, John knew because he'd run into the man at the pub a few days ago. That left work, which meant Jack, which was just so much more than John wanted to deal with. He shrugged on a long sleeved shirt as he made his way back out to the lounge to enact damage control.
John really, really wanted to know when he'd ended up in a relationship. Because this was not in their arrangement, but he also couldn't bring himself to kick her out. Gwen was sitting on the edge of the couch her hands pressed between her knees. She looked up when he entered the room. "I'm sorry, I should have just called." Or just taken care of it without telling him, because she didn't owe him anything. Not really.
"I wouldn't know, seeing as I don't know what the problem is yet. But you're here now, so you can tell me in person. Beer?" He walked past her on his way to the kitchen to throw on the electric kettle, taking in her body language and growing more concerned as the details sank in.
She laughed, the sound unusually sharp and with just a hint of a quaver. "Going to have to pass on the beer," she told him. Then pressed a hand over her stomach, a perverse, realistic part of her mind wondering why it mattered. She wasn't going to keep it...she...Gwen suddenly realized that she really had no idea what she was planning to do about it. Which was probably why she was here.
He frowned, because Gwen never turned down a drink when she was upset. The kettle clicked off, and he put the tea on to steep. "Tea, then?"
Gwen nodded after a moment. "Yes, please."
"Right. Milk or sugar?"
"Both," Gwen said. She didn't want to tell him before he sat down, or at least until he was in the same room. As if having him right in front of her would make it easier.
He grabbed the mugs and joined her in the lounge. "Here you go." He paused, taking in her hunched appearance. "Take a hit today, luv?"
She curled her hands around the mug and took a sip. "No," she said softly and took another sip. "I'm pregnant, John."
He didn't drop the mug, but it was a close call. "Fine time for a laugh, Gwen." He frowned, relaxing his discipline just enough to assess her state of mind. "You're...serious."
She nodded, trying not to read too much into his reactions. "I wouldn't joke about something like this."
"No, no, I guess you wouldn't. You're not that kind of person, are you?" He shook his head, and took a sip of his tea before carefully setting it down. "Right, so, know what you're going to do about it?"
Gwen looked at him carefully. "What do you want to do about it?" she asked back.
He shrugged, and shifted to a more comfortable position before picking up his mug again, more relaxed now that he knew what was going on. "Kid's your purview."
Gwen wrinkled her brow. He had to have some opinion on the matter. She remembered in school when one of her mates had gotten pregnant. The bloke who had done the deed had made it very clear what he thought should happen. And she knew Rhys would have been telling her what they were going to do without wondering if she'd want the same thing. "But it's yours, too."
"Your bloodline, your purview. Decision falls to the one who carries." His expression implied that even the youngest of children knew that.
"That's how they do it in the 51st century then, do they?" And she kind of liked that she wouldn't get pressure either way from him.
"Something like that. My mum would've had my head if I didn't honour your wishes. At least I think she would've. Matron would've, certainly."
"Oh," Gwen said softly, filing that information away to look at more closely later. She set her mug down and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Thank you. Haven't a clue what I'm going to do, but I'm glad you won't fight me over whatever it is."
He took another sip from his mug, finishing the tea before setting down the empty. "So, anything else threatening the stability of the universe?"
She shook her head. "You know, guys from this century would be having a fit right now," she pointed out.
He smirked. "I hardly think that's a fair comparison, love."
"Prat." For once, the insult carried no bite.
"If nothing else, I'm rather sure I'm better in bed."
Gwen laughed, leaning against him slightly. "I refuse to comment."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, refusing to think about the ramifications of the action. "Article 3, luv. Always applicable." He settled an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his shoulder. "Look, I know it's out of the blue, and I know it's shit luck with working for Torchwood. Believe me, I understand the conflict. You will make whatever decision is right for you, and then you'll move on and make the next decision. That's all you can do."
Gwen slid her arm around his waist and settled against the solidness of his body. She didn't bring up the fact that if she kept it, it be a bloody mess with Jack and Rhys. He knew that just as well as she did, but he wasn't bringing it up either. He was just there. Warm and surprisingly solid, smelling of sinfully expensive body wash and a cologne she was rather certain wasn't available on Earth. For the moment, it was enough.
When the pain started, Gwen ignored it. She'd been having on-and-off PMS for weeks, and Owen had said it was normal enough. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs near Owen's lab, however, there was nothing normal about the way it had intensified, or the rising tide of panic that accompanied it as she realized what was happening.
John was just settling down with a book when someone knocked at the door, and he muttered under his breath as he stood back up and moved to answer. Gwen wasn't due over, and given that he hadn't been in the shower or working on code, it was unlikely that she was the one hanging on the buzzer. That left the blokes from the pub, and he could vaguely remember something about a game of football. "Oi, I'm coming."
But when he yanked the door open, it was Gwen standing there. She looked pale, and her eyes were red. "If you're not busy, could I come in?" She asked, voice shaky.
He blinked, concern replacing annoyance as he took in her appearance. "Course, luv. Are you all right?" He stepped back, guiding her in and closing the door behind her.
"I..." She started then broke off, biting her bottom lip. She'd worked so hard to block it all off, to pull herself together and now it was all falling apart. The dam she'd so carefully constructed while Owen had spoken quietly, soothing words that meant nothing and existed solely for the sake of composure, was straining under the pressure of the day. She sat down on the couch, but as soon as she settled she was back up, unable to sit still not only from the cramps, but for the fear of what would happen if she actually entered a state of rest. As long as she kept moving, she could stay clear of implication, and obligation, and more importantly, of the gnawing guilt that was just as potent as the sorrow.
John frowned at her restlessness, because even when he'd seen her visibly upset, she hadn't been physically out of control like this. After her third loop of the lounge, he grabbed her arm and tugged her off balance, catching her about the waist as she fell against him and ignoring the whimper she gave. He shifted his grip and held her still, because whatever it was, she wasn't going to avoid forever. "Ssh. Whatever it is, it's all right, luv. You're not doing yourself any good wearing a hole in the rug."
Gwen struggled against him for a moment, then stilled, her face pressed against his chest. A sob broke free, and she began to shake. Her hands curled into his shirt, and she held on with a desperation he'd never seen in her before. She took a shuddering breath, obviously trying to compose herself, and failed miserably as the words emerged in a hoarse whisper. "I lost the baby." She hiccuped miserably, and he could feel hot tears through his shirt as she spoke again, more clearly. "I lost our baby."
He stilled as the words sank in, her condition suddenly making sense. He eased his hold as she gave up her fight, and stroked her back slowly. He wasn't sure how he felt about the news, hadn't really assimilated the news of the pregnancy past a basic level, but it was quite clear how she did. The emotions brought up memories he'd spent years burying, and he took a shakey breath of his own.
She continued to cry, and he realized that she was still talking, muttering more to herself than to him as she wept. "I wanted the baby," she whispered. "...I should have it more careful...I should have..."
He shifted, grasping her shoulders and shaking gently to get her attention. "None of that." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and settled her back against his shoulder. "Sometimes, these things just happen. It's not anyone's fault."
"I'm sorry." The tears, which had been slowing, started up again. "So, so sorry."
John rocked her gently. "Nothing to be sorry for, luv. Nothing to be sorry for."
Gwen didn't say anything for a while, and he let her cry herself out into his shirt without further comment. When she finally lifted her head to look at him, her eyes were redder than before. "Are you angry?" she asked softly, knowing it was a stupid question before she'd even finishing saying it. It was such a stereotypical question to ask, too. If anything he was probably relieved.
He blinked at the seemingly random question. "Don't be daft." He frowned, pulling away so as to take another look at her, noting her unusually pale skin. "You all right? Aside from the obvious, course. That doctor bloke check you over?"
She nodded. "Owen checked me over, yes. Gave me some pills for the cramps," she told him, rubbing her arm over her eyes. "He said I'd be all right."
"Well, that's something, eh?"
Gwen nodded, resting her head back against his chest. She'd looped one arm around his waist. "Probably would have been rubbish as a mum, anyway."
He continued rubbing her back, relieved that her tears had finally ceased. "Don't knock it. Never know until you try it, and all that."
Gwen nodded, her expression distant. "Never know now, mmm?" The end of her response was lost to a yawn, and she sat up abruptly, raising a hand to her mouth in embarrassment as she tried to brush away the evidence of her tears at the same time. "God, I'm-" She yawned again. "I'm sorry, I should. I shouldn't-" She swallowed hard, and looked away. "I should go. I'm interrupting your evening, and as you've pointed out, it isn't your problem."
He shook his head. "You're not going anywhere but bed." He held up a hand when she started to protest. "I'll take care of it, yeah? Wasn't doing much with my evening, anyway, and I could do with the sleep. Just because it was your decision doesn't mean I don't care."
Gwen felt her eyes burn again, but nothing came of it, and she realized that she really and truly had cried herself out. "If you're sure..."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes." He prodded until she stood up. "Go on, change."
She nodded, and yawned again before heading towards the bedroom, wondering when exactly she'd started leaving clothes there.
John waited until she disappeared around the corner before pulling out his mobile and dialing her flat. "'Ello, is this Rhys?"
"Yeah, this is Rhys," Rhys answered. "Who's this?"
"I work with Gwen. There's been an... incident. I'm afraid she's going to be out of town until tomorrow."
"I know what Gwen does, you can just say "Aliens" you know." Rhys sighed. "This Owen?"
John blinked, Gwen had mentioned that Rhys had been in at Torchwood, but he hadn't realized that she'd bloody introduced him around. He thickened his accent, going for the London accent he remembered on the Torchwood physician. "Yeah, mate. Look, sorry about the fuss, but it's a bit of a work do, yeah?"
"Yeah, all right," Rhys sounded annoyed, but not overly concerned. "Ask her to call me when she gets around to coming home, hey?"
"Yeah, course." He clicked the mobile closed before the man could ask anything else, thankful that Rhys hadn't recognised his voice from their occasional meetings at the pub. That taken care of, he tugged his shirt off as he headed into the bedroom, where he found Gwen already curled up beneath the sheets in a foetal position. She was wearing one of his shirts and looked half asleep. Though she lifted her head slightly when he came in. He raised an eyebrow at her choice of nightgown. "Comfy?"
"It was on top in the drawer," she told him. "Didn't think you'd mind." She couldn't always read his expressions at the best of times and she certainly couldn't know. She also knew he'd been on the phone with Rhys but wasn't quite sure what he'd told her fiancé. Gwen felt a little stab of guilt, she was in another man's bed after losing another man's baby with her fiancé just a few floors above.
He shrugged easily. "Suit yourself. Now, budge up." He slid into bed behind her, resting a hand gently on her abdomen. "All right?"
She started to nod then bit her lip and shook her head. "Not really," she admitted softly, hating that her eyes were watery again at the sight of his hand on her abdomen. "Sore."
"Sorry." He pulled his hand away, resting it instead on her hip. "Do you know what the doc gave you?"
"Some pain killers. Owen probably said what, but I wasn't in the best frame of mind," Gwen told him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. She covered his hand with her own.
"Do you want me to get you something better?"
"Long as it isn't anything like Retcon," Gwen finally said.
John froze, fingers tightening unconsciously.
Gwen winced. "John?"
"Don't even joke about that. I would never, never do that. Do you hear me? Never." His voice was hoarse, the words painful but necessary. She had to understand, even if she couldn't understand.
Gwen shifted closer to him, awkwardly stroking the back of his hand. "I believe you," she assured him. "I believe you, John."
He shivered, and trapped her hand under his own where they lay on her hip. "Don't. Don't joke about that. Retcon, memories, I don't - I won't fuck around with that."
She nodded. "I believe you," she told him again, shaken by the vehemence in his voice. "What happened?" she asked, wanting to know something, anything, about the source of that pain.
He closed his eyes, cursing himself for opening up a can of worms that had been quite happily stewing away in a back cabinet. "Past history, luv. Long ago, and far away."
"Doesn't seem so to you," Gwen pointed out softly, resting her head back against his chest. "Did someone do that to you? Take your memories of something?" She didn't dare say of a child.
"What, me? No. I've still got everything where it counts."
She turned her hand where it was trapped under his and laced their fingers together. She wanted to push more, like she did when things came up with Jack, but she didn't. He would tell her if he wanted. If not, she'd take the reassurance that unlike Jack, John would never steal memories from someone without so much as batting an eyelash.
He sighed, closing his eyes as he prepared to break every rule he'd laid out for himself at the start of this 'project'. "It wasn't my memories they stole."
Gwen squeezed his fingers gently. "Whose then?" she prompted softly.
"You know him as Jack. I...knew him as someone else."
Gwen froze for a moment then peered up at his face in the dim light. "What did they take?" Remembering how Jack had Retconned her when they first meet; he couldn't know he was missing anything, not if he could take memories from others so easily.
He shook his head, releasing her hand and rolling onto his back, rubbing his hands over his face as he composed his thoughts. "Two years. Well, two years and a bit. And, well, everything that went with it."
Gwen manoeuvred herself onto her other side, ignoring the twinges of pain the movement sent through her body. She rested her hand over his chest, absently tracing the scars. "And you lost him."
His fist clenched without conscious thought, entire upper body tensing. "Don't you get it? I didn't just lose him. They took him away. Department policy, they said. Can't approve the transfer, they said. It was bullocks!"
Gwen frowned slightly, feeling like there was something she was missing. Knowing there was something she was missing. "I don't understand, John. They took Jack away?" she asked.
He scoffed, sitting up and scooting away to sit on the edge of the bed. "Jack was their fucking golden boy. They didn't have to take him, he fucking walked in with both eyes open."
Gwen's jaw quivered and she felt the ridiculous urge to burst into tears over how sharp he was being with her. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, gripping the front of her shirt to keep from reaching out to him. John shook his head, and let out a humourless laugh. "Both eyes open, just looking for all the wrong things. He never did get over being from a backwater planet, was always too naive for his own good and pretending not to be."
Gwen reached out letting her fingers skim down his back. "Why did they do it? They must have had some reason."
He shook his head, but didn't shrug her off. No point, he'd already passed the point of no return. "Oh, they had a reason. Desertion rates were too high. Needed us in the bloody field. Can't approve a permanent transfer for a member of the team with the best closure rate, now could they? Easier to just wipe out the whole problem at the source, right?"
Gwen scooted closer to him wincing as she did so, put the pain didn't stop her from resting against his back. Offering what little comfort she could. "What was the source?"
"Grey."
"Grey?" Gwen parroted, trying to remember where she'd heard the name before. "You mentioned him to Jack, before you 'left'..."
"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Thought he should know that I'd found him."
Gwen pressed her cheek against John's back. "Who is Grey?"
"My son."
Gwen inhaled sharply. "Your son?" she repeated. "Why did it matter if Jack forgot your son...."
"Fifty-first century, love. Three guesses who carried Grey."
"Jack," Gwen whispered softly. She hugged him from behind, quietly offering support. "I..." her loss seemed almost petty now, and she felt ashamed at making a big deal of a baby she'd never even gotten to hold.
He reached up, resting a hand over hers. "Was a long time ago, luv. Ten years, maybe more. You lose track when you're jumping about like I do." He shifted, stilling when he heard her muffled gasp. In all the confusion, he'd forgotten about the source of their discussion. Turning, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You should be lying down, luv."
"I'll live," she assured him trying to keep the roughness out of her voice. "Making a fuss over nothing, didn't even get far enough to hear her heart beat and you lost a son you actually got to hold..." she shook her head.
"Hey, none of that now. We're not going to play who's had the shittier luck. I'll just end up depressed, and you're in no shape for laughing." He pressed on her shoulder again, and this time she allowed him to guide her back to the pillow. "This whole mess was just as much my fault as it was yours; I should have been on suppressors, simple as that. So now you're going to lie down while I grab something for that pain, and then I'll answer what I can about Grey."
As he stood, walking into the washroom to peruse his medical cabinet, he berated himself for telling her too much, agreeing to tell her more. Nobody knew about Grey anymore. Nobody aside from Jack, who apparently didn't give a rat's ass. And here he was, telling her because he felt guilty. He didn't do guilty. You conned, you scored, and then you move on. He'd already been there too long, and now there was something very much like obligation colouring his thoughts. And then there was the child, or might have been. Spontaneous abortions weren't unusual, even in the fifty-first century, but he wished it had happened before she'd realized she was pregnant. Neither of them needed that kind of emotional baggage; he already had plenty, and she was too damn emotional for her own good.
Gwen was still awake when he returned to the bedroom, despite his hopes that she might have fallen asleep. She was curled on her side, staring at the wall and trying to figure out when this had all changed from an arrangement to protect Jack into something she wanted and needed. She tried not to think about the baby and all the things she'd never get to know about. It wouldn't do any good, and she knew John certainly didn't want to hear it. She wasn't even sure why he was sticking around, or being so...caring to her right now.
"I can go to Owen's if you want me to leave," she offered, even though she really didn't want to get up.
"Give me your arm." Without waiting, he grasped her left wrist and extended the arm, pressing a small cylinder against the inside of her elbow. There was a clicking sound, followed by a rush of cold that dissipated almost as soon as it manifested.
"What was that?"
"Pain killer, bit of a regenerative boost. Standard field kit provisions, really."
"I meant what I said, I can leave if you want me gone. I don't, I know this isn't in the contract."
"Fuck the contract, luv. I'm certainly not letting you drive after taking that stuff. Not sure you'll be able to make it to the loo in another five minutes, had to guess at the dosage."
"Oh," Gwen murmured. "Thank you. For all of this. You could have been an arsehole about it."
He shrugged, turning off the lights before getting back into bed beside her. "I'm only an arsehole when it suits me. You didn't need that tonight. You had a choice taken away from you, and I know exactly how that feels. Not going to make that worse by being a prat." He shifted around, getting comfortable again.
She leaned over and kissed him softly, then shifted against him and settling in with arm across his stomach and her head on his chest. "How old was he?" she asked, feeling more comfortable pressing for details under the cover of darkness.
"Just over eighteen months. Tiny thing, really. Too small to land in civil care."
Gwen stroked his chest, the pain in his voice and the love for his son almost palpable. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But you found him again?"
"I know where, and when, he is. But it's... complicated. The Time Agency files agents who disappear in the line of duty as dead. If I show up, prove the genetic match and claim him, I have to disappear. The Agency, well, let's just say they don't like being reminded of their mistakes."
Gwen thought of Jack and his insistence to have John out of his life. "Is that why you came looking for Jack? So you could go get your son together?"
"Yes. No. Fuck if I know, at this point." He sighed. "After they took Grey, Jack and I fell out. Spectacularly so. They wanted a mind wipe, a complete memory alteration. Field Agents can't have children, not unless they get permanent reassignment. Jack wanted to negotiate, try to work out something in the middle ground. Me? I left the agency, and hit the ground running. It was bad, for a long time. Everything he told you about me is true. He left the agency eventually, but I don't know how long after or why. Ran into each other a few times, but he was different. Wanted nothing to do with me, aside from a quick fuck. By then, I was all too happy to oblige."
Gwen traced a scar across his stomach idly. "And Jack doesn't remember Grey because of the mind wipe," she mused softly amazed at how fucked up it all was. "You going to go back for him? Can't imagine foster care has gotten any better throughout the centuries."
"I don't know if he remembers or not. For all I know, he had a sudden attack of conscience that caused him to quit. He hasn't exactly been keen on the small talk the few times we've seen each other. Gets bloody furious if I even try to bring it up. And of course, I'm going back for 'im. Civil's better than nothing, but I don't want him conscripted. The diamond, it was supposed to be a big enough payoff to bow out of the game. Find somewhere safe, where he could be happy again. Civil means you don't go hungry, don't get cold, get enough education to be useful. Doesn't mean you're happy."
"Hated seeing kids being put into foster care when I was on the force." Gwen hugged John tightly, biting her tongue against the irrational desire to say bring him here and to ask if he'd been in civil growing up like his comments lead her to believe. "How old is he now? Or, when you know where he'll be."
"It's a good system, for what it is. Had to be, what with all the battleground orphans. The Empire was at war, always at war. Kids would go out to school in the morning, and when they came home there was no one there to take them in. Commerce worlds always got hit the worst." He stroked his fingers up and down her spine distractedly, staring up at the dark ceiling and seeing worlds from his memories. "That's the trick, luv. I can gauge it to a few months, but I have to be careful about crossing timelines. Can't pick him up until he's five, if I'm lucky."
Gwen shivered slightly at the world his words painted. "Better than him spending his whole childhood there," she murmured softly, her mind starting to drift. "Bet he's got your looks."
"Sadly, no. Takes after Jack's mum, of all things."
Gwen yawned. "Oh, hmm like to meet him," she told him sleepily, her eyes sliding closed.
"Maybe someday, luv." He smiled softly as the sedative in the injection finally kicked in.
She nodded, already half asleep listening to his heart beat. After a moment of contemplation, he closed his eyes as well, listening to the reassuring sound of her breath in the quiet room. He'd deal with the consequences of their discussion in the morning, whatever they were. For just one night, he relaxed and shared his burden.
It was an indicator of how distracted she was when Gwen didn't notice that Jack had his blinds closed until she poked her head in the door. "You wanted to see me, Jack?"
Jack looked up from some files on his desk and nodded. "Yes, I did. Come in and have a seat, Gwen," Jack told her, his voice was rather more gentle than she was used to hearing from him lately.
She entered cautiously, closing the door behind her. "Is everything all right, Jack?"
Jack got to his feet, watching her carefully. "I don't know, Gwen, is everything all right with you?"
"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
Jack rested a hand on her arm, his eyes kind. "Gwen, you don't have to lie to me. I know about the miscarriage."
She froze, and then jerked away and spun to face him. "What, exactly, do you think you know?"
"Something Owen said tipped me off," Jack told her. "I wish you had told me, I would have given you as much time off as you need. I know it's not an easy thing to go through."
"Oh, Owen told you, did he?" She turned away and stalked over to the bookshelves. "Don't believe everything that bastard tells you."
"He didn't tell me, Gwen. Just something he said," Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Gwen I know what you're going through."
"No, Jack, I think I can safely say that you have no idea what I'm going through."
"I know men in this century don't often wind up pregnant, but by my time it's a much more common occurance." Jack paused. "I lost a baby once, too." He caught her by the elbow.
She blinked, and allowed him to guide her around to face him. "You did?"
Jack nodded, his eyes sad. "I was...." he had to stop for a moment his voice constricting with emotion. "I was eight months in."
Gwen frowned, trying to reconcile that with what John had told her two days ago. "I-I'm sorry, Jack. It's just, it's been hard these last few days. Were, were you going to keep the baby?"
Jack pulled her into a warm hug. "Hey, I understand," he assured her, but he hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes, I was. Me and John...we were younger, naive I guess. Thought we'd have a chance at...." he stopped and shook his head.
"John...John Hart?" She felt bad, soaking in the compassion and sympathy Jack was radiating while also prodding for information, but at the same time, Jack had never been so open before.
Jack gave a shaky laugh. "He was different back then."
She nodded hesitantly, not raising her head from where it rested against his shoulder. "You thought you'd have a chance at a good life, right Jack?"
He stroked her back tenderly. "Yeah, we did. I'm sorry about your baby Gwen. You would have made a wonderful mother."
She shrugged, biting her lip and trying to hold the tears back. She thought she'd worked through this, put it behind her. It was over, done. If Jack had any idea of whose baby it had been, he'd be reading her the riot act. Jack gently stroked her hair. "It's all right to cry, Gwen. You might not have planned on a baby, but it's okay to grieve for it."
"I couldn't have kept it, Jack. But now, I don't have to make that decision...I don't get to be relieved about this, Jack. I don't. He would have wanted it." She pounded a fist against Jack's chest, tears flowing freely and breath hitching. She wasn't making sense, knew she wasn't making sense, but he was there, and unlike John, Jack had no investment in the issue. Even if John had said it was her choice.
"We could have made something work," Jack told her, which was easy to say now, when the point was moot. He continued to stroke her hair. "It's okay to have wanted it, no matter how hard or impossible things would have been. There's no shame in wanting your own child. And hey, who wouldn't want a child by you?"
"Never know now, yeah?" She took a deep breath, gathering her scattered wits. Feeling more composed, she pulled away, wiping half-heartedly at the tearstains she knew now painted her cheeks. "You'd have made a good father, Jack."
Jack managed a small smile for her. "Thank you. I would have tried." He placed a affectionate kiss to her forehead. "If you ever need to talk, Gwen, I'm here."
"Thanks, Jack." She nodded, and swiped again at her eyes. "I'll keep that in mind. I think it'll just take time, yeah?"
Jack nodded. "It will." He watched her walk away, and coughed as something else occured to him. "Oh, and Gwen? Don't be to hard on Owen. I don't think he's realized I know."
She paused in the doorway, and threw him a weak smile. "Don't worry, Jack. I know how much Ianto hates bloodstains."
"Well, that, and he's the only one that knows the autopsy room codes." Jack chuckled. "If you decide to kill him, make him write those down first, all right?"
Her smiled warmed, becoming more genuine in response to Jack's attempt at levity. "I'll make sure to remember that."
Ianto brought Jack a mug full of coffee, wondering how long he would spend holed up in his office before climbing down to his room and pretending to sleep. Everyone else had already left, but Ianto, as always, had lingered. "Brought you some coffee, sir."
Jack nodded absently, not bothering to raise his eyes from the file in front of him. "Thanks."
Ianto set it down on the desk and hesitated. "Is everything alright with Gwen?"
Jack took a sip of coffee, still not looking up. "She's doing as well as can be expected."
"As can be expected considering what, sir?" Ianto asked.
Jack set his coffee mug down, finally looking up. "Sorry, Ianto."
Ianto shrugged lightly, too used to the varying levels of classification to take it personally. Normally he rather enjoyed it when Jack used his full name, but not when it was to pacify him. "It's fine, sir. None of my business really, is it?"
Jack sighed, and reached out to pull him in for a brief kiss. "It's not my secret to share. It won't affect her performance, but that's all I can say."
"I was more concerned about how it affected you," Ianto murmured quietly.
Jack pulled away, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I'll be fine, Ianto. Just been a long day."
Ianto brushed his fingers along the back of Jack's neck. "Are you sure?"
Jack leaned into the caress, savouring the contact for a moment before turning to place a kiss on the exposed skin of Ianto's wrist. "I'm sure."
"Are you trying to distract me?" Ianto asked, dipping his fingers under Jack's collar to stroke the top of his spine.
Jack let out a moan that bordered on pornographic. "Mmm. Is it working?"
"It might be," Ianto allowed. He kept his touch maddeningly light as he bent his head to kiss Jack. He stroked his tongue against Jack's, hoping that keeping his own mouth busy would distract him from all the questions Jack would never answer and all of his own doubts.
Jack broke the kiss, and pushed his chair back from the desk before standing. "Let's take this somewhere more comfortable, shall we?" He paused, cocking his head to the side with a leer. "Unless you're in the mood for something a bit more...avant-garde?"
Ianto flushed slightly. "Maybe we can try avant-garde another time."
As far as Owen could tell, aside from the memory loss Gwen was perfectly healthy. The tests were just a precaution, albeit a necessary one given their previous experiences. Of all things, it was when he asked Ianto to bring them some coffee that things got odd.
"Ianto, it's really not necessary."
"It's no trouble, and something hot will do you good."
As soon as he'd vanished up to the kitchenette, she rounded on Owen. "What are you doing? I know I haven't decided, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be irresponsible until I do!"
Owen raised his hands in a defensive pose and backed up a pace. "Whoa, whoa. What are you talking about sweetheart?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about," she hissed. "You did the test yourself, or have you forgotten that, too?"
Owen's expression grew wary, and he took another step away. "Gwen, love, I think maybe this should wait until Jack gets back, yeah?"
Gwen shook her head, her hand going over her abdomen almost protectively. "Jack doesn't have anything to do with this. You said you'd give me time to decide, I know it's been longer than a week, but I just need a little more time!"
She turned and rushed up the stairs, nearly running down Ianto in her haste. Owen was left behind, things slowly coming together, pulled from strangely fuzzy memories. Ianto interrupted his musings by clearing his throat. "Anything I should know about?"
Owen looked down at the blood sample on his desk, which had come with him when Gwen had started protesting the coffee. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I, um, I need to run some tests. Give me an hour." Without waiting for a response, the doctor turned and vanished into the autopsy alcove. Ianto shrugged and picked up one of the mugs, taking a sip of coffee and pulling up the recent finance report he'd been working on earlier.
Gwen was trembling by the time she reached John's flat, hands shaking badly enough that it took two tries to hit the buzzer. When he didn't appear immediately, she hit it again and again, ignoring the fact that it was the middle of the day and she had no reason to expect that he'd be home.
John returned from a mid-afternoon run to find Gwen slumped against the door to his flat, eyes red, and immediately started cursing Jack Harkness for whatever had gone wrong this time. He reached out, and shook her gently. "Gwen?"
Gwen startled, and looked up with an expression somewhere between relief and apology. "I forgot you probably wouldn't be home during the middle of the day," she said, feeling pathetic and not caring who knew about it as she wiped a hand over her eyes.
He frowned at the obvious tearstains on her face, and slid a hand under her arm to guide her to her feet. "Let's get you inside, and then you can tell me what happened, yeah?"
"Do you think it's too early to blame hormones?" Gwen laughed weakly, leaning into John. "Just... everything's a mess, I guess. There's some bloke in my flat ---and Jack swears he's my fiancé -- and now Owen," she stopped and bit her bottom lip. "Owen's acting like the baby doesn't exist."
He eased her onto the couch, before sitting down next to her, becoming more concerned with every word. "Gwen, luv, what are you talking about?"
Gwen looked confused, wrinkling her forehead. "About our baby." She put a hand over her abdomen. "You know, the bundle of cells in there I haven't made a decision over yet. Owen was acting like I was out of my mind or something, tried to give me coffee and then tried to tell me to wait around for Jack."
John sighed, and gently clasped her hands in his own. "Gwen, luv, I'm not sure how to say this, but...You lost the baby. Near on three weeks ago, now."
"That's not funny, John," Gwen tried to pull away from him. "I've had a shit day, I'm really not up to you being an arsehole."
He caught her shoulder, and shook her firmly. "Gwen, look at me. No, look." He waited until she met his gaze. "I'm not joking. I wouldn't do that to you, and it wasn't exactly the best night of my life, yeah? Was nobody's fault, just happened."
Gwen looked stricken, eyes wide. "I'd remember that. I wouldn't just forget something like that," she protested, her voice breaking slightly. "You don't just forget things like that."
"I know, luv." He shifted to slouch further down on the couch, and guided her to lean against his chest. Under the pretext of brushing a piece of hair from her face, he trailed his fingers along her skin and relaxed his discipline a fraction. Not far enough to hurt, just far enough to skim her surface thoughts. His voice was rough when he spoke again. "No one forgets something like that without help."
Gwen pressed her face against his chest, hot tears spilling down over her eyelashes. "I really lost the baby?" she whispered brokenly.
He sighed, and rested his free hand against her back, stroking gently. "You did, luv." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before resting his cheek against her hair, expression growing hard. "What I want to know, is who took that memory away from you."
"Only Owen knew, and he wouldn't do that," Gwen told him. "I don't even think our Retcon works that selectively and....Jack wouldn't have. Ianto, Tosh, Adam, even if they'd known...why would they do that to me?"
John could feel something cold flickering to life deep in his mind as she completed the list of names; it was the side of himself which was better off buried while he was playing hard-to-find, the side the Agency had trained and honed and pushed to perform. "Who's Adam?"
Gwen raised her head slightly. "John, you remember Adam. He..." she frowned slightly trying to remember where Adam was when John first showed up. "He's worked at Torchwood for three years."
John shook his head. "No, he hasn't. Wasn't there when I popped in, and he wasn't in your files."
"I remember him, though..." Gwen said softly, eyes widening. "But I don't remember...oh god."
He smiled, but there was no humour in the expression. "Don't know for certain, but I'd wager someone's been taking a stroll through that pretty little head of yours."
"No one will believe me," Gwen told him, still in a state of shock. "I...why would he do this to me? What could he have gained from it?"
John resumed stroking her back, hoping to gain more information from her if she was a bit calmer. "Well, he's only been there a few days; you were fine on Saturday. What does he gain?" He shrugged. "Could be any number of things. Could be feeding on your emotions, your memories themselves. Could be accessing something in the Torchwood system that takes more than 24 hours. Someone's definitely been scavenging about, though, so I'm going to guess the former."
Gwen rested her head back against his chest. "Tosh thinks they're dating," she murmured. "And...I'm really engaged to that Rhys bloke then, aren't I?"
John bit back his immediate response, and instead made a non-committal noise. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think you need to talk to Harkness about this."
"He'll think I'm crazy," Gwen told him.
"Not if you catch him alone, give him facts to check. He's disgustingly self-righteous, but he should be willing to give you five minutes to prove yourself." John reached down and grabbed the glass of whiskey he'd left on the coffee table, taking a long swallow before replacing it. "For tonight, don't worry about it. Relax, have a drink or two, and get some sleep. Here, if you need to, although I might charge for use of the bed." He leered at her good-naturedly, and was relieved when she smiled in return. "Tomorrow, we'll sit down and come up with ways for you to check out this "Adam", yeah?"
"Yeah." Gwen nodded in agreement and leaned up to kiss him. "Thank you," she told him softly. She would have somehow managed and figured thing out, she was sure of that, but having John's support made all the difference.
She never had the opportunity to act on the decision. At two o'clock that morning, Jack phoned, and ordered her into the Hub for an emergency meeting.
The next time she stopped by John's flat, he relaxed his discipline for just a moment, more than willing to face the inevitable headache in order to see that the blisteringly clear signs of tampering upon her mind had vanished as if they had never been.
"Something wrong?" Gwen asked him, sliding an arm about his waist.
He shook his head, and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to her lips. "Nothing at all." He smirked, and looked her over as they stood in his front hallway. "Unless, of course, you count the fact that you are wearing entirely too many clothes."
Gwen grinned up at him, pushing her hips against his. "You plan to do something about that?"
He smiled, relieved beyond reason that whatever Jack had done had repaired the damage done by the 'visitor'. "I don't know, should I?"
"If you do, I might return the favour," she teased, unaware that those missing 48 hours were anything more than business as usual at Torchwood.
He pushed off the wall, and started down the hallway toward the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to look back the way he had come. "Well, are you coming?"
"Not yet, but I'm sure you'll do something about that," Gwen laughed, following him into the bedroom.
He smirked as she caught up to him. "Oh, good. You see, luv, I'm in the mood to give you a night you'll never forget."
The lift chimed with each floor and Gwen stared numbly at the numbers as she approached the main level of the building. They hadn't even noticed her. Rhys and that....Gwen closed her eyes, but it didn't stop the tears. Rhys hadn't even noticed her. She thought about the ring on her finger and the wedding dress in her closet. It wasn't...he'd asked her. And she'd been so sure he loved her, she'd even told John that he loved her. Guilt, anger twisted together in her stomach as the lift finally reached the ground floor. Blindly she moved through the doors just wanting to get as far away from their flat as possible.
John smirked when the lift opened to reveal Gwen, perhaps the day was looking up after all. He could use a bit of a distraction after spending the day in meetings with a client who didn't seem to understand the basic rules of data security. He reassessed when she brushed past without even looking at him. He opened his mouth to ask when, exactly, he'd gotten that forgettable, but then her bare arm connected with the back of his hand, and he knew. Sometimes, all of the contact he had with Gwen, and it's resultant weakening of his discipline in regards to her, was just an annoyance to be dealt with. Occasionally, however, it proved useful.
John let her go, a rush of anger blinding him to any thoughts of piecing her together. The bastard had asked for the commitment, not her. In the pub, John had heard Rhys mention finding a new girl, but he hadn't realized that meant fucking the new girl. John took a deep breath, and pressed the button for his own floor. One step at a time, that was what they'd always said in Rehab, and there was some truth in it. He'd put away his groceries, and then he'd pay a visit to Rhys.
Rhys was blissfully unaware that his fiancée had ever been there. In fact, his thoughts couldn't have been further away from Gwen, as all he could think of was Bridget. She was sweet and attentive, didn't go running off at all hours of the night. He tangled his fingers in her long red hair as they kissed on the couch.
John didn't bother waiting for the doors on the lift to open all the way before storming out. He also didn't bother knocking, and took the expedient route. He kicked in the door.
Bridget screamed and Rhys was on his feet as quickly as possible. He recognized John from downstairs, having had a drink with him on more than one occasion. "What the hell, mate! Is the building on fire?"
"You bastard."
"Me?" Rhys looked confused. "What'd I do to piss you off, John?"
Bridget peeked out from behind Rhys. "Rhys? You know him?"
John ignored Rhys for a moment, and glared at the woman still on the couch. "Sweetheart, get out. No yelling or screaming, just get out." He turned his attention back to Rhys. "As for you, let's start with the bird I just saw running out in tears, and go from there, shall we?"
Bridget grabbed her purse and coat and quickly fled.
Rhys grew pale. "Shit, Gwen saw us...." he frowned at John. "Wait why do you care? Didn't even think you knew what she looked like."
"Short, dark-haired, in tears, and wearing a ring? Hard to miss when she runs into you."
"It's none of your business what happens between me and my girl, John," Rhys snapped. "Certainly doesn't give you the right to kick down my door! I'm sorry she saw me with Bridget, but it's her fault I'm with her anyways."
John took a quick breath, reminding himself that Gwen didn't ask for this, and she certainly wouldn't be pleased if he broke a 4 month no-kill stretch with her soon-to-be-ex-fiancé. "Normally, you'd be right. But you put a ring on her finger, capped her off the market, that comes with drawbacks, yeah? A girl in tears just ain't worth the fuss, from where I'm standing." He gestured to his coat. "Salt does bad things to leather, yeah?"
"She's never home!" Rhys told John, still not quite putting things together. "Drop of the hat and she's running off to 'work'." He snorted. "She can lie to my face all she wants, but I know she's fucking someone. Probably that boss of hers. Not the first time she cheated either! I let her think I didn't remember the other bloke, but what does she think? I'm going to sit around at home waiting on her to make up her mind? I love her, I'll marry her, but if she wants to fuck around, then she can deal with me doing the same."
John rolled his eyes at the tirade. "Jack may be a bastard, but he's not that kind of bastard. He'd never fuck her and lie to your face about it." John cracked his neck, widening his stance in preparation for a fight. "If you've got problems with Gwen, you talk to her about them. You don't pick up some piece on the side, not after you've made an offer to her."
Rhys' eyes widened as it suddenly clicked. "You son of a bitch. You two-faced bastard. You're fucking her," Rhys hissed. "That selfish little fucking slut."
John cut him off with a punch, careful not to break anything. Yet. "Business partner, not a piece on the side." He took another swing, this one landing in Rhys' solar plexus and knocking the wind out of him. "Completely different things, mate. She works for Torchwood, what's your excuse?"
Rhys took a swing back at him. "Business partner? So she's a whore now, too? You pay her for it?"
John stepped back, avoiding the fist and jabbing an uppercut into Rhys' side with his left hand. "Whore is such a dirty word. But, yes, she got something out of it. I left you alone."
Rhys stumbled back, not the fighter that John was. He was holding on to the back of the couch trying to stay up right. "You're crazy."
John grinned, all teeth. "That's what they tell me. I prefer the term 'beyond rehabilitation'."
A look a terror crossed Rhys' face. "Please don't kill me."
John crossed the space between them, and knocked Rhys down to his knees. "You want me to leave you alone? Go away and never come back?"
"Yes!" Rhys whimpered.
"Leave her. Agencies like Torchwood don't make for relationships, or haven't you noticed?" John's gaze sharpened and his voice grew quiet. "In three days, you move out, and you don't come back. You leave her be, and you stop nosing around Torchwood."
"The flat is half mine..."Rhys protested.
"You lost that right when you brought the bird home, mate. I'm presenting you with an offer, here. I think you'd be wise to accept, if you catch my drift."
Rhys nodded dully, giving into the inevitable. "All right," he said. "Hope she fucks you over just like she did me."
"Wouldn't be the first." John shrugged, and stepped back, giving Rhys space to stand up. At the man's disgusted look, John couldn't resist smirking. "What, think I was born this way? Sorry. I'm a product of environment, not genetics. They have laws about that."
Rhys glared at him best he could, but the effect was diluted by the swollen eye and busted lip. He waited until John was near the door before he spoke again. "You do this to her when she pisses you off?"
John laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. "She knows what I'd do, if I ever got as pissed at her as I am with you. This? This is recreational. Remember, there are worse things than bruises, mate." He smirked and turned, whistling as he walked down the hallway. "And get the bloody door fixed."
Rhys watched John walk out of the flat, and hoped to hell Gwen knew what she'd gotten herself into. Because he was staying the fuck out of it.
Gwen hit the buzzer once, then banged her fist against the door for good measure. If nothing else, it made her feel better. Everything was a mess. Rhys had left her...okay, he'd been cheating on her and she'd been cheating on him but...she shook her head to keep herself from crying.
John pulled the door open fully expecting to find Jack on his doorstep after the stunt he'd pulled earlier, which had just been fucking stupid, especially when Rhys knew about Torchwood. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he found that it was just Gwen. "Good evening, luv. You look like you could use a drink."
"Rhys left me," spilled out of her mouth. It hadn't been what she'd planned to say. Because part of her was sure he already knew, was sure that he had something to do with it. But how would he have known?
That was...not quite what he'd expected. But he could certainly work with this. He slid an arm around her shoulders and guided her inside and kicking the door closed. "Then you definitely need a drink."
Gwen nodded, then reconsidered and shook her head. "No, I..." She swallowed hard, tempted to just lean into him and pretend that nothing had happened. A few hours of denial, some sleep, it would be safe. Except denial was what had gotten her into this mess. She shrugged off John's arm as she felt the tears well up again. Which brought her back to Rhys, which brought her back to the reason she'd been so mad. She stopped and turned to face him. "What did you do to him? Because Rhys loves that flat. Now suddenly he's up and leaving? How did you even know?"
John stopped at the bar and poured a large whiskey before turning back to face her. "Yes, I paid your former - and I do hope it's former, because otherwise I'm crediting you with far too much intelligence - fiancé a visit. We straightened up a few things, and he graciously decided to leave in apology for his actions. That's all." He offered her the glass. "Sit. Drink."
After a moment of staring at the glass, she took it and sat down heavily on the couch. "Your knuckles are bruised," she said softly. "And you still haven't said how you knew." Gwen took a long drink and wondered if the rift would behave long enough for her to spend a day curled up in bed sulking.
John poured himself a drink as well, and sat down in the chair next to the couch. He threw back half of it before speaking. "You know I was a Time Agent, yeah?"
Gwen curled her legs up on the couch. "Yeah," she agreed, too emotionally drained to be snarky at him. "What's that got to do with this?"
"Time agency recruits based on a number of aptitudes. One of them is psychic - communication or ability to manipulate physical objects." He tossed back the rest of his drink, and set the glass on the coffee table. "I had what they wanted, so I got in."
Gwen took a long swallow of whiskey, making a face as it burned its way down her throat. "You're trying to say --what? That you're psychic? That you read my mind?" she rolled her eyes, then looked back at him and saw just how tense he was. "You aren't joking, are you?" Her voice shook as she spoke and the shaking seemed to translate to her hand, and she set her glass down abruptly to conceal the fact.
"Nope. Well..." He shrugged, turning to face her more directly and perching his arm across the back of the chair. "Haven't actually read your mind."
"Then what?" She demanded, not even realizing that she was twisting the engagement ring she still wore.
"It's...complicated. There are codes. They drill us from the time the abilities manifest even in potentia - ethical guidelines. The actual ability is much more difficult to use than you might think. If I wanted to go into your mind, I would have to open myself to everything in the surrounding area. Every mind, every psychic influence. Let's just say I won't do it if I can avoid it."
Gwen was still playing with the ring unconsciously as she watched him. "Then..."she stopped and wet her lips. "If you didn't read my mind, what did you do."
"Today? An accident. You were emotional, and I wasn't expecting the contact."
"And I'm supposed to believe that," Gwen said softly, yanking the ring off. "Like I'm supposed to believe you beat up Rhys because he cheated on me? Why would you care?" She tossed the ring down on the table and stared at it. "I guess you were right about him not loving me, though." As she spoke, a light dusting of tears slipped through her lashes.
"You can believe it or not, I don't really care. It's true." John debated refilling his glass, but it wasn't like another few ounces was going to do any good. It took close to a litre before he actually experienced more than a mild buzz, especially with the light stuff. "If I was going to fuck around with your brain, Gwen, I wouldn't do it by finding out your boyfriend's cheating on you. I'm sorry, but you're just not worth the headache that comes with an open spectrum, even just for a few seconds."
"Why'd you attack him?" Gwen asked again, because she didn't understand it. John was the one that often pointed out that their arrangement was little more than a business deal. If he hadn't attacked Rhys she would have....she would have tried to pretend she hadn't seen it. She wouldn't have broken the engagement.
"I did it because he made an offer of commitment to you, and then he entered another romantic affiliation. Not a physical one, like our arrangement, a romantic one." He tapped a finger against his lips in thought. "It's the difference between a mistress and a concubine, and there's one hell of a moral and ethical weight that comes with it."
He knew she was avoiding the questions she had to have about the psychic aptitude, but he was just as happy to let the topic lie. It wasn't exactly a point of pride that he was so rusty that his control slipped periodically.
Gwen wondered what response she'd been hoping for, because that certainly wasn't it. She blinked back more tears. "Find it hard to believe, that you care about morals and ethics of anything," she said in a watery voice, getting to her feet. Any other time, she'd want to know why he so easily got a glimpse of her thoughts from just a touch. Any other time, she'd be able to put together all the threads she saw and see the bigger picture. But not right now. "You...you shouldn't have troubled yourself."
"By your standards, I guess I am an odd duck, but it's all relative, yeah? Everyone has rules they break and rules they canonize. Take mind-ethics. In the civvies, if you screen positive on a Psi assessment you get shunted into Mind-Ethics One. They don't teach, they indoctrinate. Do's and Don'ts get hardwired in before you hit ten, before you ever learn more than keeping people out. And some things, some things are sacred. Depends on the person, or the planet, but everyone's got lines they won't cross, yeah? Rhys, he crossed one of mine, and you got hurt. So yeah, I messed him up. I'm not sorry about it, either."
Gwen wiped a hand across her face, the urge to flee back to her own flat leaving her. "I really thought he loved me," she whispered, horrified that she was saying it out loud and that she was really crying now.
John stood, moving to sit on the couch next to her and pulling her to lean against his shoulder. "Never know, luv. Maybe he did, in the beginning. And maybe you did. Love doesn't always last, even when we want it to. Happens, and people walk away. Sometimes they try to kill each other, but I'm told that varies with the people. You made a romantic commitment, and you kept it. There was never any question that you were paired with Rhys. He made no such distinction with his new bird; she didn't know about you. That, and the fact that he did it where he knew you could find out, is what pissed me off."
"I wanted him to be what I wanted. He was safe...he treated me well." Gwen wrapped her arms around John, trying to halt her tears. "Thank you -- not for beating him up, but for --" she wasn't sure how she was going to end that, so she kissed him instead.
He kissed her back, knowing that this was something she'd have to work through herself, and also knowing that there would be a time he'd want to use this to keep her from pushing about his history with Jack. He pulled back after a moment, and caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you want to stay here until he's out?"
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "I-- yes."
"Right, glad that's settled. You all right entertaining yourself while I take care of some things?"
"I think I can manage," she promised, taking another kiss mostly because she could and the physical contact was comforting.
"Good woman." He reached over and grabbed the television remote, pressing it into her hand as he eased her off his lap. "I'd ask if you wanted anything, but I'm just not that good of a host. You know how the kitchen works; help yourself." With that, he stood and headed for the computer in the corner. It was a few moments before Gwen said anything, and when she spoke he was surprised at her choice of topics.
"John?"
"Yes?"
"Don't ever do anything that bloody stupid again."
Gwen stretched, enjoying the feel of soft sheet and a warm body beside her and the knowledge that she didn't have to be anywhere. She probably should have been disturbed that she assumed it was John before her brain was even awake enough to remember the night before and Rhys leaving her. She inhaled sharply. Rhys had left her. Rhys had been cheating on her. Contented feeling gone, Gwen pushed herself up into a sitting position.
John blinked awake, but didn't bother to get up as he studied the woman next to him. "All right, luv?"
She rubbed her face and looked over at him. "Not sure."
He stretched, and laced his fingers together behind his head. "Anything I can help with?"
Gwen smiled slightly, if nothing else, John could provide a variety of distractions. She leaned across his chest and kissed him. "I'm sure you could think of a few things that would at least make me feel better."
He smirked, and made a show of looking her over. "That could be arranged. Anything in particular?"
"Mhmm, maybe I'll let you surprise me," she said, nipping at his jaw.
He chuckled, and buried a hand in her hair to pull her up for a kiss. "Surprise, eh? Nothing you've been dreaming about lately, maybe some kink you've been keeping in reserve?"
She was relaxing against him, her mouth curving up into a full smile, when something clicked in her head. Her eyes went wide, and she wrenched herself away from him. "You bastard."
He blinked, and frowned at her. "What?"
"You fucking telepathic son of a bitch!" Gwen hissed. "And I felt so guilty about having those dreams with Rhys right beside me in bed!" She shoved the covers back, and climbed from the bed.
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, and crossed his arms over his chest. "So what if I did? It's distant past, Gwen, and you sure as hell weren't complaining at the time."
She stopped in the midst of picking up her shirt, staring at him wide eyed. "You're the one that's so big on 'consent', how the hell did I consent to be raped in my dreams for weeks on end?"
"Now wait just a minute, sweetheart. Yes, I poked my head in a few times, but we only ever fucked once, and I made damn sure you wanted it. Don't go blaming me for your over-active imagination, because I don't take kindly to slander."
Gwen pulled her shirt over her head. "It doesn't count as consent when the other person thinks it's a dream!" Gwen practically screamed at him. "And don't fucking lie to me. I never would have...you fucked me on Jack's desk in one of them. I would never have come up with that, never would have wanted that!" She was horrified to realize that she could feel tears burning behind her eyes, the urge to just give in and let the fall nearly overwhelming. She'd lost Rhys, and now to find out that any desire she had for John was manufactured?
John was on his feet at that, because he was many things, but he wasn't a rapist. "Stop right there, Little Girl. I've got enough people with altered memories in my past as it is, and I've put up with more than enough of it from you already. You want to hold me accountable, you do it for things I've done, not things you've imagined. Yes, that dream happened, but I sure as hell didn't instigate it. You did that all by your lonesome."
"I wouldn't even know how to, and you know it," Her hand flew out and connected with his face. Hard "And you've had enough of me? You've had enough of me? You've fucked up my life, you coerced me into having sex with you. I never would have gotten pregnant, let alone miscarried, and you made me fucking care about you ---"
He caught her hand after the slap landed, and shook her. Hard. "You listen to me, Gwen, and listen well. I have not, and would not, force your actions. That's a line I won't cross. For all I know, you're psi-positive and pulled me into your dreams. So yes, I've had enough of the blame and the oh-so-bloody-righteous act from you. You think I didn't care about the miscarriage? I've lost one child already, Gwen. Maybe I get him back, but maybe I don't. Maybe I get back there and he's gone. Just because the pregnancy was your purview doesn't mean I didn't fucking care!"
He released her, and turned away, stalking to the closet and grabbing the first clothes he found. "I'm going out. You can be here, or you can be not-here when I get back, your choice. Call me when you've sorted yourself out."
Gwen stood there, her whole body shaking. "I want out of the contract."
He paused in the doorway. "Fine. Bloody fantastic, even. Be gone when I get back, and I don't really care where to." Discussion ended, he stormed out of the room. A moment later, she winced as she heard the front door slam.
Gwen sank down onto the end of the bed, put her hands over her face, and cried.
John had given up on getting anything done for the afternoon, and instead decided to go out for a run. Despite the best of genetic predispositions, a fit body did not maintain itself, and some habits were difficult if not impossible to break. He fiddled with the iPod he'd bought a few months back as he stepped into his trainers. While not the most advanced of technology, there was something to be said for ease of interface. He was going to miss the twenty-first century more than he'd imagined when he moved on. Shouldn't be long until the call came in, and suddenly he couldn't wait for the next job to give him a reason to run and not look back.
Lost in thought as he opened the front door, he ran right into the ultimate cause of his distraction. "What are you doing here?"
Gwen caught his arm to keep her balance. "I'm selling these fine leather jackets," she said rolling her eyes. "I came to see you."
"Didn't think we had anything left to discuss, me and you. Contract terminated, that's pretty final." He shrugged her off, and leaned against the door frame, blocking her access to the flat.
"I want to renegotiate," Gwen said meeting his eyes.
"You mean you're horny." He crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't unblock the doorway.
Gwen shook her head even as there was a flash of guilt in her eyes. But not for the reason he might assume. "No, that's not what I mean." She reached out settling a hand on his arm. "John, please. At least invite me in."
"Don't know that's such a good idea, Gwen. Might take advantage of you, take away your ability to consent. Can't have that." He could hear the bitterness in his voice, and regretted allowing the conversation to drag on even this long. "You should go, Gwen."
Her hand curled around his arm. "I was angry, and I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry I said that, I am. You've always made sure it was what I wanted. I know that."
He smirked, but the expression lacked any element of good will. "Do you? Or is it just convenient for you to think so at the moment? What happens the next time you get pissed with me, eh? You've been taking lessons from Jack, you have, and it's something about him I don't miss in the slightest."
"John, no," Gwen protested. "You've never really hurt me, you've never done anything to me I didn't want. What I said was out of bounds completely, but I was angry. I was scared."
He sighed, and stepped out of the way to allow her into the flat. "If you can leave the accusations at the door, we can negotiate new terms."
Gwen nodded and walked past him into his flat. "I am sorry," she repeated. "I---well I meant to hurt you. I just wish I hadn't." There, that was honest enough.
He scoffed as he closed the door behind her and followed to the lounge. "Course you do. You always regret the things that cost something. Question is, why are you back. Thought you wanted out. Why should I want back in?"
"I regret it because it really did hurt you," Gwen tried to explain. She had no idea how she thought this would work. John could be stubborn as hell when he was in a snit. "I missed you, and no, not just the sex. And maybe you shouldn't want back in..." she looked away from him to the floor. "I slept with Owen."
"Pretending, for just a moment, that I had any intentions of entering an emotional relationship with you, as opposed to straight business, do you plan to start an emotional relationship with him now? Plan to start with the dates and the flowers and the fancy jewellery?"
"No!" Gwen made a face. "No, and I think Owen would get hives if I even thought such things around him."
He debated getting a drink, but settled for sprawling out on the couch. "Then what's the problem?"
"There isn't one," Gwen said in exasperation. "Just thought you had the right to know." She huffed, dropping into the chair. She was quiet for a moment watching him. "I've been walking around this last week feeling like...I don't know how to describe it. And everyone thought I was upset about Rhys. Everyone thought I was missing, pinning, whatever over Rhys. But I was missing you, I was thinking about you."
He let his head drop back against the couch, and stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Please, please, please tell me you're not making me a commitment offer. Because I've done that once, and I really don't fancy doing it again."
Gwen scowled at him, trying not to admit that it hurt to hear him say that. "I'm not asking you to marry me," she told him. "I'm asking for a new contract or whatever the hell you want to classify our relationship as. I'm asking you to forgive me for saying that you forced me, for implying that you didn't...." she broke off not wanting to mention the miscarriage again. Even if it had been the closest he'd ever come to him admitting that they were more than a business arrangement.
Her expression told him as much, if not more, than her words. Its sincerity, and the way her hand clenched over her abdomen in an all too telling motion. "Emotional relationship, luv. That's the classification. Relationship, with intent extending past sixteen standard days, and interactions occurring both within and beyond the confines of the domicile."
"I want that," Gwen's voice was soft. She wished she could read him, wished she could have solid proof that he had as much at stake in all of this as she did, instead of this vague feeling. At least bitterness and pain didn't seem to pour off of him anymore. "And you've got every right to tell me to get the hell out."
John straightened, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he caught her gaze and held it. "I'm not going to tell you to get out, Gwen. But you ask me for this, you'd better mean it."
Gwen was quiet, almost unnervingly so as she got to her feet and walked over to him. She knelt down in front of him so she could cup his face in her hands and kiss him softly, a mere brush of lips. "I mean it," she told him, looking directly into his eyes. Willing him to believe her, to be able to feel how much she wanted this.
He closed his eyes at the press of her lips, silently accepting her declaration and offering his response. His mind was buzzing with the things this would change, the problems this could cause, but none of them seemed to coalesce into anything solid. He knew it was just chemicals, endorphins not so unlike those he'd once abused, but all the same he couldn't shake off the rush of pleasure that her offer incited.
She rested her forehead against his. This could be the stupidest thing she'd ever done but she didn't care. This felt good, this felt right. "Try to be honest with me from here on out, please?" she said softly.
"I can't promise that, Gwen. Parts of my past, they're better off buried. But you ask something, and I'll answer. You don't lie to me, and I won't lie to you. That's the best I can offer you."
She nodded. "I can live with that," she told him.
He smiled, a surprisingly open expression, free from the calculation which so often coloured his actions. "Well, we'll see. I can certainly hope."
Gwen smiled as well and kissed him again, mostly because she could.
John pulled her off the floor and into his lap, keeping their kisses gentle even as he slowly peeled off their clothing.
It wasn't the first time they'd fucked on the couch. Or the first time Gwen had ridden John as he sat on the couch, but when their bodies had stilled -- when they were curled in each other's arms with their hearts still racing -- Gwen couldn't bring herself to call it just fucking.
When she'd 'renegotiated' things with John, Gwen hadn't been thinking beyond the immediate ramifications, much as she might like to claim otherwise. That fact was made distressingly clear when she was rudely pulled out of the afterglow of a very nice evening by a pounding on John's door. He shot her an annoyed glance, but after some back and forth he'd pulled on a pair of jeans and answered the door, ready to tell off whatever neighbour had gotten pissy over the fact that he'd snagged a bird for the evening. "What?"
The man outside the door was not, in point of fact, his new neighbour. Instead, it was a police officer. "Sir, we've had a report of a domestic disturbance at your flat. May I come in?"
John glanced back, confirming that Gwen had managed to pull on boxers and a tank top before he opened the door far enough to grant admittance. He might not like the local authorities, but compliance raised fewer eyebrows and got them out faster. "Fine, come in."
"Andy?" Gwen turned a few shades of red as she caught sight of the officer in the doorway.
"Gwen?" Andy looked back and forth between the two. "Everything all right here?"
John rolled his eyes. "I take it you know 'im?"
Gwen shifted uncomfortably, tugging at her tank top. "I know him. Everything's fine, Andy."
Andy eyed a bite mark visible on her shoulder. "You sure about that?"
"I'm fine. Look, I'm sorry if we got a bit loud. We'll keep it down, yeah?"
John smirked. "It's not my fault you curse like a sailor, luv. Looks good on you."
Andy still looked suspicious. "Do you mind if I speak to Gwen. Alone."
John rolled his eyes. "If it'll get you out of my flat, I'll go and bake bloody biscuits." He stalked out, muttering under his breath about never having forced a woman in his life.
"Thank you, sir. Appreciate the cooperation," Andy said with a fake smile.
Gwen sighed as John left the room. "Look Andy, I'm fine. Really. We just got carried away. You know me, not going to let any bloke push me about now am I?"
"Have to ask, Gwen. Especially when there's report of a woman screaming."
She blushed again. "That...might have been me. I'm sorry about the confusion, Andy, I really am. But I'm telling you, there's nothing to worry about."
Andy frowned, but nodded. "When you hook up with this bloke, Gwen? I know you and Rhys called it quits, but..."
"Long enough, Andy. John... He's been good to me." She paused, thinking about how to describe the quasi-relationship. "It's not like it was with Rhys. This is just a bit of fun, you know? Before I get back into the swing."
"Just be careful and take care of yourself, Gwen. I know you don't have much time for old Andy with all your spooky dos, but I'm here if you need me."
She nodded. "I know, Andy. I really do. But there are things I can't talk to you about. I don't want to pull you into my life."
"And you can talk to this 'John'?"
"I can, yes. It's...complicated."
"Everything with you is, Gwen. Ever since 'Special Ops.' Ever think about coming back, join us mortals in the real world?"
"Oh, no. Couldn't do that, now could I? Might have to eventually take that Sergeant's exam."
He laughed at the long-standing joke from their first year on the plod together. "Quite right. I'll be off, then. But you call if you need me, Gwen. I mean it. Even if you can't tell me why, I'll help you if I can. Not Torchwood, mind. Just you."
She smiled softly. "Thanks, Andy. Ring me, we'll go for drinks and catch up like we should've done ages ago, yeah?"
"Drinks, might do. Be nice, let you pick up the tab with your fancy spec ops pay check. Good night, Gwen."
She guided him out the door. "Good night, Andy."
As soon as the door closed, John was out of the kitchen and pressing her up against the door. "Thought he'd never leave."
"He's a good bloke, John. Just doing his job."
"He decided I was safe enough to leave you with, did he?"
She canted her head to the side, allowing him to nibble on her neck. "You're on probationary approval."
"Haven't been a probationer since I was 22 years old. What do I have to do to get off 'probationary' status?"
She grinned, breath catching as he caught a sensitive spot on her neck. "I'm sure you can think of a few things..."
"I have to gag you, luv?"
Gwen whimpered softly against his fingers as he pressed her back against the door. Opening her mouth, she nibbled and licked at his fingers.
John groaned softly into her skin, sliding his free hand under his tank top to fondle her breasts. He slipped his fingers into Gwen's mouth, groaning again as she sucked on them -- reminding him how good her mouth felt on other parts of him.
Gwen ran her thigh up his leg and hooked it around his waist bringing him closer to her. She rubbed herself against him, feeling him harden in his jeans -- knowing he wore nothing under them.
John growled and bit down hard enough that she'd surly have a mark the next morning. He pushed back from her far enough to shuck his jeans and rid Gwen of his boxers. He pulled her leg up onto his hip again and tested her with two fingers. Gwen moaned, still wet from earlier.
"John--" He cut her off his with his own mouth, kissing her hard and messy.
"Shh," he admonished, half picking her up and pinning her to the door so she could wrap both legs around him.
He thought for a brief moment about the condoms in the bedroom but he was on suppressors and she on birth control -- and if she did get -- John kissed her again and thrust in.
She bit his lip against both their moans and arched against him, taking him in fully.
John worked her mercilessly, taking great satisfaction in swallowing up any sound she made as she came. When he came not long after, he bit her shoulder to keep from shouting.
He carried her into the shower after, pressing soft kisses to the marks he'd left on her skin. Gwen laughed telling him she didn't mind them at all, untwisting something in John that he hadn't rightly known was bothering him.
She couldn't believe she was doing this. Emma was due in three hours, the flat was a mess, and she was allowing - encouraging - John to fuck her against the island in the kitchen. At least she'd managed to wipe that smirk off his face; that had been an accomplishment in its own right. She closed her eyes as he bit into the skin of her shoulder, almost there.
There was something odd, though. Something was off, wrong. She placed a hand on John's shoulder, and before she'd had a chance to squeeze, he'd already frozen. As he stilled, the sound registered more clearly - someone was unlocking, no, now was /opening/ the front door. Gwen's eyes went wide as possibilities raced through her mind - had she turned her mobile off? What if it was Jack? If it wasn't Torchwood, who could it be?
Luckily, and somewhat depressingly, it wasn't the first time they'd had an unexpected visitor. Gwen ignored John's colourful and rather inventive cursing as she grabbed her housecoat from the chair by the island. "Hullo?"
"Hullo Gwen," Emma called cheerfully from the doorway. "Thought I'd surprise you."
"I'm surprised alright," Gwen called back, shooting John a apologetic look as she tied the housecoat around herself firmly and went to greet Emma. "Wasn't expecting you 'til later."
John snorted, and muttered under his breath about Gwen's ability to communicate time effectively as he put on the kettle and tried to remember if he had any pants or trousers in the general vicinity. Not that he cared, but Gwen got kind of touchy about that sort of thing.
The cafe was small, but it was a nice day - nice enough to set outside. Emma sipped some of her coke through a straw, having paused in telling Gwen about the bloke from work she was starting to see. "He's a great kisser," she confided with a bit of a giggle.
Gwen settled back in her chair, and took a sip of her water. "Not moving too fast, is he?"
Emma smiled slightly. "No, not to fast. Sometimes I wish he'd move just a bit faster though." She blushed, looking away as the colour crept up her cheeks.
Gwen shook her head, setting her glass back down on the table beside her menu. "Emma, there's no rush. Be glad he's not forcing the issue, you're still young, especially by today's standards."
Emma blushed again. "When he kisses me, I just don't want him to stop, you know?" she admitted. She played with her straw a bit. "And you aren't that much older than me, Gwen." Emma pointed out.
Gwen blushed, and cleared her throat to as she reached again for her drink. "Yes, but that's not the point. I've grown up in this world, I understand it. And, well, I'll admit - John was possibly not my smartest decision ever."
"He -- suits you more than Rhys, I think, "Emma said carefully. "That's odd to say isn't it? I hardly knew Rhys, and I don't really know John."
Gwen bit her lip, looking out at the passersby. "John, well...it's complicated."
Emma bit her bottom lip before speaking again. "Is he the best sex you've ever had?" she asked, remembering their conversation about Rhys.
Gwen looked back at Emma, pursing her lips. "Feeling cheeky, eh?"
"Is he?" Emma asked with a giggle, her cheeks darkening further.
Gwen looked down at her menu, patently trying to avoid catching Emma's gaze. "None of your business, missy."
Emma giggled again. "Least tell me how you met him," she pleaded.
"Work."
Emma sighed. "Do you love him?"
Gwen glanced up, unable to resist the urge to grin. "Maybe. Just a little." At Emma's disbelieving glance, she rolled her eyes. "All right, yeah."
"And he obviously loves you," Emma said happily. "If you get married, I want to be a bride's maid."
Gwen swallowed hard, and reached over to place a hand over one of Emma's. "Emma, um, it's...not really that kind of relationship."
Emma looked puzzled. "But you love each other."
"Well, sometimes that's not enough. Not with what I do, and what he does. I told you, it's complicated. He's from, well, not from here, if you know what I mean. And he's got a son. He's...not exactly looking to settle down."
"Oh." Emma looked like she wanted to say or ask more, but she didn't. She was still young, still thought falling in love and getting married were part and parcel. Gwen missed that kind of innocence.
"Emma, it's not all a bad thing. With Torchwood, it's not like I keep regular hours. Got lucky with John, bumped into him in my building and recognized him, things sort of went from there. It's good for the now. I know he doesn't mind that I'm gone all hours or miss a date here or there, and he knows that I understand if I knock on his door one day and he's gone. Won't like it, but I can understand it." Gwen shrugged. "Could be worse, yeah?"
Emma was obviously struggling to reorient herself to the new information, and suddenly Gwen felt bad. "Look, Emma. This is supposed to be a girl's day out, yeah? So forget about my troubles. I shouldn't be bothering you with them, anyway. Tell me more about this Chris."
Emma smiled hesitantly, then nodded and started telling Gwen more about Chris, how he played rugby, liked buying her chocolate, and took her to the movies. For the next twenty-six blissful hours, Gwen was able to convince herself that elements of her life really were still normal. It was a lovely illusion.
John startled at the sound of the door buzzer, and got sprayed with paint for his efforts. He pulled his t-shirt off, balling it up and throwing it at Gwen where she stood laughing at him on the far side of the kitchen. "Next time you can pay for dinner." Grumbling good naturedly, he grabbed his wallet off the island and sauntered toward the door.
When he pulled the door open, it wasn't the delivery girl or boy standing there. No, the person on Gwen's doorstep was Jack Harkness. "You." Jack hissed, going from zero to pissed off the moment his eyes landed on John. Shirtless John. In Gwen's flat. He threw the first punch without hesitation. "Where's Gwen?"
John staggered back, wallet falling to the ground as he recovered his balance. "She's fine." He spat, clearing the blood from his mouth.
"Jack!" Gwen had rounded the corner when she heard Jack's voice and now was looking at Jack in horror. "Jack, I'm fine."
Jack threw another punch, catching John in the jaw, and John gave up any pretence of playing nice. "You want it that way? Fine." John threw a return punch, knocking Jack back a few feet.
Gwen got between them, putting John at her back. She had a hand resting on his arm. "John, you all right?" she asked, voice tight with concern as she kept her eyes on Jack.
John shook his head, breathing hard. "Fine."
Jack picked himself up off the floor, staring at Gwen in shock. "Gwen get away from him." His words were sharp, with a flavour of desperation bleeding through. "What have you done to her?" He looked at John, fury in his blue eyes.
"Jack, really. John hasn't done anything to me," Gwen protested.
John rolled his eyes. "Oh, give it a rest, Jack. Even I still have ethics."
"You tried to kill her. And you weren't above fucking with Yenna's mind." Jack pointed out. "Gwen, honey, I don't know what he's done to you, but we'll fix it, okay? Just get out of here and go to the hub."
"Yenna was a different situation, Harkness, and you know it," John muttered.
Gwen grit her teeth and kept her temper firmly in check, knowing that Jack had his reasons, even if they were myopic in their scope. "He hasn't done anything to me, Jack. He's painting my kitchen, for God's sake, not trussing me up for Christmas dinner."
John smirked. "Well, nothing you haven't begged me for, anyway."
Gwen pinched the arm she was holding. Hard. "Not. Helping."
Jack's hands were balled into fists, his enraged expression just this side of sanity. "I don't know how you manipulated her, John...." Something seemed to click in his mind. "Is he why Rhys left you?" he asked Gwen. "Has he messed you up that badly?"
Gwen's eyes narrowed, and she let go of John's arm, advancing on Jack. "No, he's not the reason Rhys left me. I left Rhys because he was cheating on me. John just made sure Rhys didn't cause me any problems."
Jack went slack jawed for a moment, then he tightened his mouth into a hard line. "How long has he been messing with you, Gwen? What does he have over you?"
"Damn it, Jack. John hasn't brainwashed me, he hasn't forced me into anything," she poked his chest with a finger. "Will you put aside your issues with him for a minute and listen to me?"
John casually raised a hand, swiping away the trickle of blood from his split lip. "I don't have anything over her, Harkness. A good time, that's all. Had a contract, but that ended a while ago. You weren't ever to know."
"You were the father," Jack growled suddenly, moving Gwen out of the way. Somehow that pissed him off even more. That John could have had a child with Gwen. That...
John looked Jack up and down, assessing but not backing down. He glanced over at Gwen, but she just looked pissed. "What's it to you?"
Jack fists were still curled, ready to strike. "Did you push her, cause the miscarriage?" he hissed.
John paled. "That's low, Jack. Child belongs to the one who carries it, that's law. I would have honoured whatever decision she made."
"Jack, please!" Gwen's voice was plaintive, with a definite note of pissed off, and it seemed to snap Jack out of his staring contest with John.
Jack shook his head as if clearing it. "Gwen, I don't know what you've been doing with John, what you think you have, but he's no good. He'll run off on you when you need him most, and I don't want that happening to you."
"God, Jack, it's always about you, isn't it? For a long time, that was all right. But it's not about you anymore. This isn't about you. Just... let it be."
Gwen's chin went up, and she walked purposefully to John's side. She curled her hand around his, looking Jack right in the eye. "John's stood by me when I've needed him."
Whatever response Jack was going to make was cut off by the appearance of Owen in the doorway. "Freeze!"
"Fuck," Gwen muttered.
Owen was joined by Ianto and Tosh a moment later, and John couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Invite the whole bloody neighbourhood, why don't you?"
"Why the hell are you here and not at the Hub?" Jack demanded.
"Gwen, you all right? Tosh caught a police report as we were heading out." Owen relaxed as he took in the scene and the obvious lack of unsheathed weaponry. Behind him, Tosh closed the door to avoid any unwanted civilian attention. After looking between the various combatants, she lowered her gun, although her eyes never left John and Gwen.
Ianto wasn't quite so relaxed, gun trained carefully on John. "Jack, what's he doing here?"
"He's painting my kitchen, and put the gun away Ianto," Gwen sighed. "And yes, I'm fine Owen. Jack here just over-reacted."
"I did not overreact!" Jack protested.
Owen nodded, and switched on the safety before shoving his pistol into his back pocket. "You know, suddenly a lot of things make sense."
John shot the doctor an inquisitive look, which Owen replied to with a smirk. "Knew she had a new bloke. You've been good for her, so I'm reserving judgment, bullet wound and all. Hurt her, and you'll wish you'd never been born, Time Agent or not."
John nodded. "Of course. Wouldn't expect any less from 'Torchwood'."
"You knew she was seeing someone?" Jack demanded. "And you can put your gun down, Ianto. He's not going to try anything at the moment."
"Thank you for your ringing endorsement, Owen." Gwen put her fingers to her temples. "Jack, get the hell out of my flat. I'll talk to you tomorrow. In the meantime, all of you out."
Owen shot Jack a disbelieving look, before nodding to Gwen. "Right, well, I've had a shit day. Since there doesn't appear to actually be a burglary in progress here, I'm going to go home and attempt to forget that aliens ever landed in Cardiff. Tosh, you want a ride?"
Tosh nodded, and followed him out, throwing Gwen a look that indicated they'd talk about this later over something dairy with a high chocolate content. "Gwen," Jack protested. Ianto caught him by the arm, half pulling him towards the door.
"I think we'd better do as she asks, sir. It is her flat." Ianto pointed out.
"We'll discuss this later, Gwen. Private life or not, I'm going to need some answers."
"Fine, but not now," Gwen told him.
With a sigh, Gwen followed her coworkers to the door. They all meant well, in their own ways, but she just wasn't up to dealing with their good intentions. Especially not all at once, and not with Jack off the deep end. She had forgotten how much of a sore point John really was with her boss.
She looked back at John and gave him a small smile. "That could have gone better."
John shrugged. "Could have gone worse, too. Nobody died."
"True," Gwen walked back over to him and gently touched his face. "You okay?" she asked softly.
He winced as she brushed over an emerging bruise. "Don't know. If I say no, will you kiss it better?"
Her mouth curved into a small smile. "I'd be more than happy to," she promised him. She leaned up and kissed his mouth, careful of his split lip. "Don't worry about Jack, I'll handle him."
"Mmm." He returned her kiss, savouring the innocent contact. "That sounds nice." He reached up, tracing a line of paint, which had somehow ended up on her cheek. "Think the kitchen can wait another day?"
Gwen nodded. "I think it'll keep." She leaned into his touch more than a little relieved by the fact he hadn't high-tailed it out of there. She knew that he cared about her, but she hadn't been sure it stand the test of Jack discovering them. She nuzzled his throat, kissing that spot just behind his ear. "Crazy if they think I'm giving you up for anything," she murmured.
He chuckled. "Far be it from me to disagree, but I think we might want to cap off the paint first, eh?"
It was silent in the SUV as Jack drove back to the Hub. Owen had taken his own car from Gwen's, so for once Jack didn't have to deal with chasing him and Tosh out when there was fresh gossip to be had. Ianto was not so easily dispatched, however, and that was a fight Jack just wasn't up for. "Fine, you want to stay? You can stay."
"It's just as easy to clean up after you tonight, sir, as it will be in the morning," Ianto pointed out calmly.
"Don't worry about me, Ianto. I'll keep it contained to the office." Jack tossed his jacket over the railing as he walked into the central Hub, and headed toward said office.
Ianto's frown told Jack that he wasn't at all relieved. "Or you could actually talk to me. For once," Ianto muttered half under his breath. "But why on earth would you want to do that."
Jack sighed, pausing but not turning back to face him. "You want answers? Do you really want to know? Because if I tell you, there will be no Retcon. You ask, then you remember. And I can guarantee you won't like what you hear."
"I've heard a great many things I haven't wanted to or liked since joining Torchwood," Ianto pointed out, walking over to Jack. "Since I started sleeping with you. I want you to be able to talk to me when you need to."
Jack's grip on the railing tightened, but he didn't turn. "I never wanted you involved with my past, Ianto. I've tried to put it behind me, start again. John is, was, a part of that past. He's going to hurt her, and there's nothing I can do about it."
Ianto rested a hand on Jack's back. "Your past is part of who you are," he said softly. "And what if he doesn't?"
Jack shook his head, turning to look Ianto in the eye. "It's all he knows how to do." He sighed again, obviously reaching a conclusion. "Let's at least take this somewhere more comfortable. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."
Ianto nodded and pressed an affectionate kiss to Jack's mouth. "Should I make us some coffee then?"
Jack closed his eyes at the gentle pressure, taking a moment to savour the contact. "That would be lovely." He seemed to shake off the tension, trademark grin coming to life. "I'll wrap off the paperwork, see you at may place in...10?"
"I'll be sure to be there," Ianto said with a smile. It always amused him that Jack referred to his office and quarters underneath as 'his place' Exactly ten minutes later - Ianto liked to be punctual - he carried in two mugs full of coffee.
"Down here." Jack's voice emerged from his quarters below, and Ianto paused only to grab a tray for the coffee before starting down to the bedroom below.
Ianto usually would make a comment about what it said about Jack to live in a hole under his office or that for kicks Jack should look at flats. Tonight he didn't, he just handed Jack is favourite mug off the tray and wished he'd thought to change out of his suit.
Jack took a sip of his coffee, sitting down and cradling the mug in his hands. "Sit down. This could take a while."
Ianto loosed his tie after sitting down his own mug and sat down next to Jack on the bed. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured Jack.
Jack laughed, a hollow sound, and took another sip of his coffee. "What do you want to know?"
Anything, everything, Ianto wanted to say but didn't. "Why do you think he's going to hurt Gwen if he hasn't by now?" Ianto asked carefully.
Jack shifted his mug to one hand, running the other through his hair in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. "It's...it's complicated. You know that John and I were partners, many years ago."
Ianto touched the back of Jack's hand. "What happened?" he asked softly, trying to imagine that Jack.
Jack shrugged. "We were young. Figured we had five years of experience, why wait any longer. Time Agents don't exactly have long life expectancies in the field. I got pregnant. For a few months, things were good." Jack's eyes were unfocused, dark with old emotion, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Really good."
Ianto inhaled sharply torn between irrational foolish jealously and pure shock. "You got pregnant," he repeated.
Jack blinked at the change in tone, and turned to face Ianto. "Yes. I got pregnant. Believe me, not all it's cracked up to be."
"Just not something on expects their male lover to say," Ianto pointed out. "At least in the 21st century." He curled his hand over Jack's. "What happened to the baby, Jack?"
"Always thought I'd mentioned it, somewhere in there. Not that it matters..." Jack took a deep breath, and then another as memories long buried came to the fore. He'd touched on this with Gwen, but it hadn't been about him. "I - no, it was still we then - we lost the baby. There was an accident, I don't remember clearly. There was pain, and blood. The doctors told me that there was massive tissue damage, but they never told me why. They did tell me that I'd never carry again."
Jack leaned over, placing his mug carefully on the trunk which served as a bedside table, before cradling his head in his hands.
"Jack," Ianto whispered, there was so much pain in Jack's voice, in his body language. Ianto did the only thing he could and wrapped his arms around the other man and held him. "I'm sorry."
Jack shifted, burying his face in Ianto's neck, breath hitching but eyes dry of the tears that had been shed so many years before. "I don't." He squeezed his eyes closed and began again. "I don't remember what happened after, or even what caused it. John... He couldn't handle it, I guess. He vanished, just up and left me, when I needed him the most. So I turned to the Agency, because they were the only ones left, and then they turned on me, too."
Jack's voice grew bitter. "I guess it's not too hard to see how I ended up a con man, after all."
Ianto held him tighter, rocking him slightly, stroking the back of Jack's neck. He hated John Hart more than he ever thought possible in that moment. "But you aren't one now," he said softly, as if to remind Jack. "You changed." He kissed Jack's head.
"Did I?" Jack shook his head, pulling away and shifting to lean against the wall. "That man brings out the worst in me, Ianto. I don't like who I am when I'm around him, don't like the things he makes me remember."
"You have changed," Ianto insisted. "So you lost your temper tonight, you weren't expecting to find him with Gwen. None of us were."
"Last time he showed up, I almost got you all killed. Remember that one?"
"Jack we almost all get killed on a semi-weekly basis," Ianto countered. "Gwen....seems to have moved past that."
Jack scoffed, a quiet sound filled with a combination of respect and disdain. "John's a good actor. Great, even. Best I've ever met for reading people. Never wanted the spotlight, either. He clung to the shadows, never the centre of attention, even when he deserved it." Jack shook his head, and looked up, catching Ianto's gaze and holding it firmly. "When I found him, two and a half years after he ran out on me - ran out on everyone - do you know what he asked?"
Ianto had toed his shoes off and moved up on the bed closer to Jack. "Tell me," he said gently.
"He asked me if I'd seen Gray recently." Jack closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. "Gray was the name of my brother. Many, many years ago, something happened and he died, and it was my fault. When we found out the baby was going to be a boy, we agreed to name it Grey." Jack swallowed hard. "Every time I saw him, he'd ask about Gray. Had I found him, did I know what had happened to him."
Ianto swore softly. "Why would he do that to you?" It was less a question and more a horrified statement. "And he told you this last time that he'd....god Jack that's horrible."
"That's John." Jack laughed softly, the humour apparent to none but himself. "He's a bastard to the core, but more charming than a roomful of Talasian prostitutes. He's going to break her heart, and if we're very lucky, that's all he'll do."
Ianto swallowed hard. He liked Gwen, she was a sweet girl and he didn't want her hurt. But he'd seen the way she stood by John tonight, looking at Jack like he was the enemy. "Do you know how long its been going on?"
Jack shifted so Ianto was more comfortably sprawled against his shoulder, using the time to shift gears, reburying memories which he'd promised himself he would never dredge up again. Memories he wished the Time Agency could have stolen along with the two years they *had* taken. After they were settled, he turned his thoughts to more recent months. "If the baby was John's, then at least three months. Impossible to say, before then. Owen seems to think it's been longer. I've been less observant than I should, these last few months."
"I didn't know Gwen had..." He trailed off, remembering the day Gwen had been sent home early by Owen looking pale and upset. When Owen and Jack had gotten into a spectacular row in the hallway leading to the WC. "I didn't know. At least -- at least he stayed with her through that." Ianto said and instantly regretted his words.
Jack was surprisingly unfazed by the comment, instead merely furrowing his brow in thought. "That's what doesn't make sense. He had no commitment to her, no personal stake beyond the obvious, and he stayed. It goes against everything I know about his MO. It just doesn't make sense."
Ianto stroked the back of Jack's neck comfortingly. "Unless he does care about her," Ianto said softly, and he really hoped it was the case. For everyone sake.
"You don't understand. He loved me, and he left without even a goodbye. I don't think he did, I know he did. When we committed, we agreed to a positive-psi bonding. No secrets, no lies for 24 hours after the ceremony. If he could run out on me..." He trailed off. "What's stopping him from doing the same to Gwen? She's mine to protect, Ianto. I don't mean as a lover, I mean as a team member. How do I put her in that position, knowing what's going to come of it?"
Ianto pushed down any jealously he might have over Jack's feelings for Gwen. "Because she's a grown woman and you can't make her choices for her, anymore than you can for me. Or any of us," he said softly, resting his head against Jack's shoulder. "She fought tooth and nail over Rhys, Jack. How do you think she's going to react if you try to force her hand on this?"
Jack frowned, and brushed a kiss against the hollow of Ianto's throat. "When did you become the expert on human nature in this relationship?"
Ianto shivered at the contact. "I had a good teacher?" he smiled slightly, then sobered. "Jack, you aren't upset about Gwen because..." he trailed off torn between 'because you really want John' or 'because you really want Gwen?'
"No. John is a long time in my past, and a memory I'd bury if I could. There is far, far too much history there, and he's killed me once already. Gwen - she's a big girl, and she makes her own decisions. There's something appealing about her innocence, but only in the abstract. I want her in Torchwood, grounding me, but I don't want her in my bed. She's too much like someone I loved. One of the many people I've lost, who can never be replaced."
Ianto was more relieved by this then he should have been and kissed Jack jaw. "Good, I'd hate to have the competition. Looking good in a suit only goes so far." His tone was light.
"Oh, I don't know." Jack ran a hand up and down Ianto's thigh. "Seems quite an asset from where I'm sitting." He smiled, grateful to be back in neutral territory. He shifted, breathing his next words into Ianto's ear. "Although I happen to think you look better out of it."
Ianto made a small sound, moaning in anticipation. "Perhaps I should remove the suit then."
Jack slid his hand up Ianto's chest, resting it over his heart for a long moment. "I wouldn't object." He stroked back and forth against the fabric, staring down at the tight weave as if it held the answers to the questions of old. "You realize that I've made my choice, don't you? That I'm where I want to be, not where I have to be?"
"Jack, I know I'm not your first choice," Ianto murmured, even as he leaned into Jack's touch. "I - I don't mind really. You came back, that's what matters."
Jack leaned in and pressed a kiss first to Ianto's forehead, then his lips. "When I left, there were things that needed doing, questions that needed answers. I saw things, lived through things, that I wouldn't wish on any other living creature. And when I was given the chance to walk away from that, to go anywhere, any time, I chose you, here, now. You can decide what that means to you, but I know what it means to me."
Ianto kissed him back, then kissed him again. "I'd take whatever I can get from you, Jack, you know that."
Jack began to unbutton Ianto's shirt, placing a kiss against his skin with each open button. "I know."
"Jack," Ianto gasped softly threading his fingers through Jack's hair.
"Sssh. Just relax."
"Hard to with you doing that," Ianto said shakily trying to control his breathing.
"Let me say 'thank you'. For listening."
Ianto closed his eyes as Jack pushed his shirt back and started on his trousers. "You're supposed to listen when you care about someone," Ianto murmured.
Jack pressed a kiss against the skin just above his belt. "'Supposed to' doesn't mean does." He nipped at the skin, hard enough to sting but leave no mark. "Now this is the part where you lie back and relax."
Gwen wasn't at all surprised when Jack wanted to see her in his office almost as soon as she came in. At least they could get this over with and then get on with their days. She was grateful to Ianto for passing her a mug full of coffee on her way into the office and giving her a slight smile.
"You wanted to see me Jack?"
"Gwen, come in, take a seat." He waved her in, waiting until she sat down before closing the door. He let her stew while he settled behind his desk. "I think we both know why you're here."
Gwen rolled her eyes and took a drink of her coffee. "For cutting class and smoking fags in the girls loo?" she asked. "Am I getting detention?"
"No, Gwen, what you're going to get is a broken heart."
"Jack." Gwen set her coffee mug down. "I'm not going to get my heart broken. Trust me, please?"
Jack sighed, and reached over to clasp her hands. "Gwen, it's not that I don't trust you. I do trust you, you're my second in command. You've got a big heart, and it's an asset, but it can also be a liability. You trust, and you care, but you don't have all the facts, and I don't want it to blow up in your face."
"I think I have a lot more facts than you give me credit for. John's an asshole, he's got a temper, he's a con. I know that, Jack. I can handle him." Gwen insisted pulling her hands from his.
"John..." Jack shook his head. "John can't do commitment." He sighed, leaning back in his chair and speaking with obvious regret. "He tries, but it's not in his nature. It's not his fault, it's a side effect of growing up in the civil system."
Gwen crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not looking for commitment from him. He made it clear not to expect it and I don't. Your problem with me being with John has nothing to do with me and everything to do with your personal history with John."
"Maybe it does." Jack shrugged. "We've all got our blind spots, but it doesn't mean he's not bad news. I'm going to let this be, because it is your life, but I want you to understand my concerns, and I want you to know that there will be measures taken to protect Torchwood's interests."
"He doesn't ask about Torchwood and I don't ask about what he does," Gwen told him. "Honestly Jack, what do you think he has to gain?"
"I don't know, Gwen. Maybe you're just convenient, maybe you were a way of getting to me that's become more useful as something else, I don't know. I just know that when things get tough, or when he gets bored, you're going to come home one day and he's going to be gone. And then I'm going to have to pick up the pieces."
He stood, rounding the desk and resting his hands on her shoulders.
She shrugged off his hands getting to her feet. "You know what, Jack? Maybe it's not about you. And do you know what else? He was there for me when things were tough." She rounded on him so they were facing each other. "When I've needed John. He's been there for me."
Jack held her gaze, searching for conviction and finding enough to satisfy. "All right. You want to do this? You go ahead. I'll stay out of it, and I'll keep it out of the records, for your sake."
Gwen nodded and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Jack," she told him softly, haven't expected him to give in so easily.
The back of Gwen's neck began to itch in an alarmingly familiar way as she stopped for take-away on her way home. After glancing around, she dismissed the feeling as job-related paranoia and tried to forget about it as she paid. As she left the shop, however, she got the distinct impression that one of the men loitering near the entrance was watching her. When she caught his eye, though, he just smiled and waved, and she decided he must be waiting for someone. The feeling remained as she drove home, and increased as she crossed the dark car park to her building. For the first time in a long time, she felt a shiver work its way down her spine that had nothing to do with aliens or really good sex.
She told herself she was being ridiculous. She could certainly handle anything human that the night could throw at her. The pep talk didn't work, and by the time she reached John's flat she was still on edge. She found herself wishing, not for the first time, that she had a key instead of merely a standing invitation.
John was, as always seemed to be the case, in the shower when his door buzzer went off. When it rang again less than twenty seconds later, he knew it was Gwen and that she was cranky. He threw on a towel and was just pulling the door open as the buzzer rang for the third time.
When he pulled the door open Gwen was glancing over her shoulder towards the lifts. "Hi," she said turning her head back holding up the food as a peace offering. "You knew I was coming over with food."
"Course, luv." He accepted the bag, and glanced over her shoulder toward the lift. "It doesn't count as a national emergency, though. What's wrong?"
"I..." She glanced back again, then shook her head. "Nothing, too many long hours I think."
She shook her head again as she closed the door behind her. "Sorry to interrupt your shower."
"Care to make it up to me?"
She laughed softly, leaning up slightly to kiss him. Her free hand pressed to his bare chest. "I'm sure we can come to a agreement, but after we eat. I had to skip lunch today."
He frowned, something off in her voice. "You sure you're all right, luv? Not like you to get rattled over nothing."
Gwen chewed on her bottom lip as she put the bag on the kitchen counter. "It's silly, but I kept getting this weird feeling like someone was watching me. It started at the take-out place..." she shook her head again.
He leaned in, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry about it. If it happens again, then you worry, yeah?" He turned to the bag on the counter. "So, what do we have?"
It was a week and a half later and Gwen was half dozing with her head resting on John's bare chest. He sitting up slightly reading something, and she wondered how long she'd been asleep. She was content, though, to just lie there with him. It was still dark outside so she knew it was still hours before she had to be up.
He tabbed the hand-held, scrolling through pages of legal jargon surrounding 51st century custody law as Gwen dozed against him.
"Can't sleep?" she asked him, breaking off into a soft yawn. "You don't usually bring work to bed with you." She traced the now familiar scar crossing his chest.
He shook his head, absently running a hand through her hair as he scrolled down another page. "It's not work."
"Well, I know it's not porn," she teased sleepily. "Can't it wait till morning?"
He scrolled through another page, squinting at the small type. "I'm almost done."
She rested her hand rest over his heart. "Something important?" she asked. Her curious was pricked even though all she really wanted to do was curl into him and fall back asleep.
He allowed his hand to drop from her hair to rest against her back. "Very."
Gwen chewed on her bottom lip, telling herself that he'd tell her if he wanted her to know. She should just got back to sleep and forget about it. But she couldn't, the question gnawed at her. "New job?" she asked lightly.
"Last job, actually."
Gwen's heart stopped for a moment and she raised her head at that to look at him. "Last job?" she repeated. "Are you...leaving then?" She tried to keep her tone even.
He blinked, scrolling past his next stop-marker in surprise. "Why would I do that?"
"Because you want to? I knew you weren't going to stay around forever," Gwen said softly, resting her head against him again. "Last job you said."
He sighed, realizing what she'd heard as opposed to what he'd said. "I'm not going anywhere, luv. Call me soft, but I'm tired of running. I might not have enough in the coffers for my own island somewhere, but life here isn't so bad, yeah?"
"You complain about the 21st century all the time," Gwen pointed out, tipping her head back slightly. She couldn't hide her relief that he was staying.
"There are problems, but you have to admit, aside from good ol' Jack, it's a good place to lay low. Trade's good enough that I can get the tech I want, and even when it was fully operational, the Agency didn't come sniffing around."
"Nice place for a retirement home," she teased, dropping a kiss to his chest. "I just thought, when it came time to pick up Grey, you'd go somewhere more familiar, closer to your own time."
John shrugged, and put the handheld down on the bedside table. "To be honest, up until a few months ago it was always just 'get Grey.' Never allowed myself to think what would happen after I did it. Just had to get there. The future..." He sighed, focusing his gaze on the ceiling instead of meeting her eyes. "What you know as the future, it's marvellous, and incredible, and full of so many wonderful things. But it's also horrific, and painful, and there's a new terror to balance the triumphs." He paused, and glanced down to make sure she was following him. "I grew up in a war zone. Jack and I both, really. He was just on the rim, on one of those little industrial worlds that never got noticed in the attacks. My parents were commerce workers, and with the better income came a bigger target. They died when I was 8, and I went into the Civil System. I don't want that for Grey. I know I can die anywhere, leave him alone anywhere, but my statistics are better somewhere like this."
Gwen stroked his chest gently. "Nobody wants that for their child," she murmured softly in agreement. Her heart broke for the old pain she heard in his voice. "I'm glad you're going to bring him here. I'm glad you'll be able to get your son back."
"Any help you need --"
He picked up her hand which was resting over his heart, and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "I'll know just who to ask, yeah?"
Gwen smiled up at him. "Yeah."
Gwen was furious. Jack had been furious when the rift disturbance was determined to be inside John's flat and of course he expected her to know what 'her boyfriend' was up too. Which of course she didn't.
Gwen glared at the door to his flat realizing for not the first time that while he had a key to her flat, she still didn't have one for his. And she hated that.
She knocked loudly on the door and hit the buzzer twice. She hoped she was interrupting the bastard, and if there were any Blowfish or anything else in there she was going to...
John winced at the racket from the door, tucking a blanket around the sleeping child before answering the door. "Would you lay off, already?"
He blinked when he found Gwen standing in the hallway. "Couldn't bother phoning?"
She placed a hand against his chest and shoved him back into the flat, following right after him. "Couldn't bother bloody telling me you were going somewhere or at least not do it in your flat? And I swear to god, John Hart if I see one damn blowfish I'll let Jack deal with you instead of running interference again."
Her voice got louder with each word and her emotions pratically spilled out over him.
He winced, and dug in his heels, hands raised in defense. "Gwen, luv, I'm sorry about not warning you. I didn't have much warning. It wasn't planned. But, please, calm down."
"So you took a unplanned stroll through the rift, brilliant," Gwen snapped. And it really wasn't John she was pissed at...okay she was partly pissed at him too but the little comments from Jack. The 'ha, I knew he was using you and will hurt you' look he gave her even though he was trying to be all business. Jack wasn't a bad guy - she knew that - but he could be as petty as the best of them. "You can't just mess with the rift, John, I don't care what sort of tech you have." Plus being pissed at him was easier than admitting how scared she was that he wouldn't be there.
John rolled his eyes, and side-stepped her continued prodding. "Look, I said I was sorry. And there's no need to bloody shout. I'm not going anywhere, luv."
Gwen sighed and tried to calm down. "I'm not shouting," she finally said. "Where did you go, John? Or were you just mucking around?"
He gestured to the couch. "Sit?"
She laughed nervously as she did so. "Whatever it is it can't be bad enough for me to need to sit down for."
"Not bad, it's just..." He looked away, walking over to the kitchen before returning to the lounge. He ran a hand through his hair. "Things have...changed. Time-tables have shifted. There are things I wanted to tell you, needed to tell you, and now..."
Gwen heart plummeted. "You're leaving?" He said once that he wasn't, that he wanted to bring Grey here but...
His eyes widened, and he shook his head emphatically. "No, Gwen, I'm not leaving. Things are just going to change. A bit sooner than I'd expected them to."
Gwen blinked trying to piece it together. "I'm not sure I'm following..." She stopped and looked at him hard. "Grey?" She said softly, just in case she was wrong.
John nodded, and for the first time that evening the exhaustion in his features became truly visible. "Grey."
She bit her lip and looked away, gaze flitting around the room before settling on the candles sitting out on the coffee table. "Can I...can I see him?"
He reached out, and gently forced her to return his gaze. "You can do more than see him."
Grey tugged at his father's shirt. "Da, Da," Grey said trying to get his attention as he worked as his desk.
"Not now, Grey. Go on up and see Gwen, she's waiting for you." John loved his son, he truly did, but sometimes he needed a few hours to himself.
"She's not there," Grey told him solemnly.
John paused in his perusal of the screen, turning to Grey. "What do you mean?"
Grey looked up at him with big blue eyes. "Not there. Door was open, looked for her," Grey told him as if he was afraid he'd get in trouble for not finding her.
John frowned at the description of Gwen's flat, because that wasn't like her. In fact, she normally stopped in to snag Grey on her way up, although it wasn't the first time she'd gotten distracted and headed straight upstairs. He hadn't worried about sending Grey up because she always called if she got held up. "Give me a tic, Grey, and I'll walk you up and we'll look for her together, eh?"
"Kay," Grey said with a small nod, watching his father. "Am I in trouble?"
John closed out his computer before pushing back from the desk and pulling Grey into his lap. "Course not, luv. You did the right thing, coming back down." He pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. "Now, let's go looking for Gwen, see where she's hiding, yeah?"
Grey hugged his father, snuggling his head against John's chest. "Gwen's not in trouble either?"
"Well, let's go and see, shall we?" When Grey showed no signs of loosening his grip, John sighed and shifted to balance Grey against his hip as he stood. "You know, you're lucky you're a wiry one. Most boys your age don't get carried around whenever they feel like it."
"It felt weird," Grey told him still clinging to John. "Scary."
John blinked, and studied Grey's face more closely. "Grey, what do you mean by 'felt'? Is there something you haven't been telling me?"
He adjusted the boy, grabbing his keys as he waited for an answer, torn between wanting to find out where Gwen was and needing to find out if Grey was talking about what he thought the boy was talking about.
Grey eyes grew wide. "No, no, no." He shook his head then hide his face.
"Grey, Grey- Luv, hush. I'm sorry, we'll talk about it later, all right?" He placed a comforting hand on the boy's back as he felt hot tears against his neck. "I'm not mad, baby boy. I'm not mad."
Grey sniffled, not lifting his head. "Don't want to go back. Want to stay with you and Gwen."
John adjusted his grip, leaning against the desk so as to relieve the stress on his arms as he comforted the distraught boy. "Grey, do you remember what I told you when I came to pick you up?"
"You'd never leave me again, and I'd always be taken care of," Grey repeated what his father had told him. He wiped a small hand over his eyes.
Grey lifted his head then. "Da, think Gwen was scared."
"That's right, Grey. I'm never going to leave you again. You'll never have to go back to Civil, Grey. No matter what happens, I promise you that." He brushed carefully at the tears on Grey's cheeks. "Now, what was this about Gwen. How do you know she was scared?"
"Just know," Grey insisted.
John nodded, and shifted Grey again as he headed to the door, muttering under his breath. "Right. Course you do. Had to get my bloody genetics on that one, didn't you?" He pulled the door shut behind him. "Let's go find Gwen."
When they got up to Gwen's flat, the door was still open keys hanging in the door.
"See, Da," Grey told him.
John bit back a curse at the sight of the keys. "Oh, Gwen, what have you gotten yourself into." He didn't bother going any further in, already knowing what he'd find. "Grey, how do you feel about spending an evening with Gwen's friend Andy?"
"You gonna find Gwen, Da?" Grey asked.
He smiled grimly at his son, mind already running down paths of possibility. "Yes, baby, I'm going to find Gwen."
John closed his eyes, balling his hands into fists as he opened his mind fractionally. Just a little more, just a little more... there. Scared, angry, but alive. "I know you can't hear me, sweetheart, but I'm coming." Resolved, and debating just how much analgesic he could take without impacting his reaction time. Sadly, he concluded that it was far less than his headache warranted. With Grey safely tucked away with Andy, John set out for the location in his mind. It was going to be a long night.
The house was just on the outskirts of town, sitting on a slightly dilapidated farm. There was a car sitting outside that looked somewhat familiar.
As he approached the house, he remembered where he'd seen the car. It had been in the back corner of the car park, on and off for the last month. He kicked himself, knowing he should have put two and two together. Should have given credence to Gwen's comments about being followed, being watched. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting the leather of his gloves as he approached the door to the house.
The door was unlocked either out of confidence or pure arrogance. The kitchen was clean, spotless even. The rest of the house was just as spotless, almost unlived in. The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the house.
John didn't waste any time poking around, and headed straight for the locked room. Just because it had been a while didn't mean he'd forgotten how these things worked, and he had no doubts that the bastard who'd taken Gwen had no intentions of letting her live.
In her first year with Torchwood, one of the lessons Gwen learned was that there were times that you didn't ask questions. So when John found her in that basement, she didn't ask how he'd done it. She didn't ask about the blood on his shirt, or the fact that he took her out through the back entrance to the old bomb shelter, and made her walk the long way round the house to get to the car. She didn't ask why her, why an average, everyday bloke who happened to own a bomb shelter that smelled of rotting flesh had decided that she was the woman who fit his criteria this go-around. She knew exactly what kind of monsters could linger under the guise of human flesh, and she already had more than enough nightmares without adding fuel to that particular fire.
Instead, she simply followed orders: some spoken, some implied. Stand up, sit down, let me wrap your wrists. Wait in the car, and don't ask where the smoke is coming from, just be glad it doesn't smell like burning flesh.
When the call came in the next morning regarding a suspicious murder on the outskirts of the city proper, Gwen didn't bat an eye, nor did she care when Jack assigned her to desk duty instead of asking her along to liaise with the police. John was a big boy, and she had every faith that he knew how to cover his tracks. He must have, because Jack never said anything further about it, and Gwen couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty.
"We can go home if you want," Gwen murmured to John just before the hit the door of the pub.
John shot her a wry glance. "Who are you trying to convince, luv? You or me?"
"Both of us?" Gwen offered a slightly smiling. She hoped she at least have a decent time and so would John and Grey. And that she wouldn't have to explain why she wasn't with Rhys anymore over and over. Grey clung to both John and Gwen's hands as they entered the pub.
John smirked. "No need to worry about me, luv. Despite whatever Jack's told you, I did pass Basic Etiquette 101." He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Go on, see your friends. I promise to play nice."
"Thank you." she told him softly, as she noticed Diane spotting them and coming over.
"I'll play nice too, Gwen," Grey told her, peering up at the adults.
John smiled down at his son. "I know you will, Grey." He crouched down, looking Grey in the eye as Gwen waved at her friend. "Now, you remember what we talked about, hm? If you get scared, or tired, you come and find me or Gwen. Okay?"
Grey nodded solemnly, and John ruffled his hair. "Good boy." John stood, and put on his best face as Gwen's friend Diane approached. "Here we go."
Gwen smoothed Grey's hair back down almost absently. "Diane, thank you for inviting us." Gwen greeted her friend letting the other woman pull her into a hug.
Diane returned the hug, pulling back and grasping Gwen's shoulders as she looked her over. "It's been too long, Gwen. You never phone anymore, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about your old mates."
"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to," Gwen told her knowing it wasn't a very good excuse but she really couldn't tell her the true reason. "Diane, I want you to meet John and his
son Grey."
John offered a hand, smiling pleasantly when she accepted. "Always a pleasure to meet one of Gwen's old school mates." He rested his hand on Grey's hair. "Say hullo, Grey."
Grey smiled hesitantly. "Hullo, ma'am."
Diane smiled, shooting Gwen a curious look but politely refraining from asking her questions. "Well, it's lovely to meet you both. I've got to go check on my husband, make sure he's not feeding the baby whiskey again."
Diane paused as she turned away. "Oh, I almost forgot, you remember Mary and Kyla? They've both got youngsters about his age. Manager's an old friend, so he keeps some games and the like over in the corner." She gestured toward the far corner opposite the bar, and Gwen saw the aforementioned women, along with someone she didn't recognize whom she assumed to be a wife, supervising some kind of game. "We take it in shifts, gives us a little adult time. You know how it is."
Gwen stifled a laugh. "Alright, Diane," she told her friend. "Grey do you want to go play with some of the other children?"
John nodded. "Sound good. Well, I'll leave you ladies to it. Want anything from the bar, luv?"
"Just a beer, John," Gwen told him, kissing his cheek. "I'll take Grey over to meet the other kids."
Grey held on to her hand obvious uncertain about all the new people. He settled into playing the game with the other kids after a bit, so Gwen felt safe enough to leave him there to say hello to some other old friends. Not as many people asked about Rhys as she thought, though a few prodded her for how and where she'd met John. She'd just start back to check on Grey when she saw him.
Suddenly, the lack of questions about Rhys made sense. They weren't asking because they already knew things had fallen out, and given the fact that he'd been caught red-handed, Rhys had probably been just as happy to avoid the inquisition as she was. She glanced around, looking for John and wondering if this had been a bad idea to start with. She spotted him just as his mobile rang, and he shot her an apologetic look as he headed toward the hallway.
She swore inwardly and wondered if she could just walk the other way before Rhys noticed her. She really didn't want a scene, and hoped he didn't either.
She looked around, hoping to snag someone as a buffer, but before she found any such good Samaritan (or just plain sucker) Rhys had crossed the room and was standing in front of her with an uncomfortable look on his face. "Hullo, Gwen."
Gwen tried to find someplace neutral to rest her eyes, ending up with the sconce on the wall just past Rhys' shoulder. "Rhys," she acknowledged. "Look Rhys, I..."
"I'm not..." He sighed. "I'm not here to pick a fight, Gwen. Certainly not with all our old mates around. Too much dirty laundry, too many state secrets, I know the routine just a bit too well at this point."
Gwen wrapped her arms around herself in a semblance of a hug. "I don't want to fight with you either. I wish things had gone differently between us, and that they hadn't ended like that."
He scoffed, looking away and taking a sip of his beer. "You're not the only one. I could handle it when it was a workplace affair, I really could. Owen's a right bastard, but at least you always came home to me. Then something happened - and don't look at me like that, because I know something happened, I just don't know what it was - and you stopped coming home again. You were home, but, you weren't." He sighed. "I'm sorry, I wasn't going to bring it up. Are you well?"
Gwen felt a wave of guilt settle in her stomach. Guilt that made her want to explain John, explain how she hadn't meant for it to happen. " I'm good." That wasn't a lie. She was happy, as hard as things could be at times. "I didn't mean for it to," she stopped and shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. Are you well, Rhys?" She bit back the urge to ask about his redhead.
He shrugged, and took another sip of beer. "Well enough, yeah." He glanced around, shifting awkwardly before sliding his free hand into his pocket. "You, uh, you seeing anyone?"
Gwen nodded. "Yeah, I am. What about you?" She hoped he was. It would make things easier if he was. She had barely finished speaking when Grey was suddenly there, clinging to her legs. Gwen looked down, gently stroking Grey's hair. "Everything okay, Grey?"
Grey shook his head and clung tighter. Leaving Gwen to assume he'd gotten scared or tired and couldn't find John. She looked up at Rhys still stroking Grey's hair. "Sorry Rhys."
He shook his head, waving off her apology as he crouched down in front of the boy and offered a friendly smile. "Grey, is it? Are you a friend of Gwen's?" Grey nodded cautiously, eyes wide as he studied Rhys from behind Gwen's leg. "She's nice, yeah? How old are you?" Grey shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed and clinging harder to Gwen's leg. Rhys sighed, and stood, eyes full of questions.
"It's alright, Grey," Gwen murmured soothingly, stroking his hair in a way that always calmed him. She glanced at Rhys. "He's had a difficult few weeks," she told him in explanation. "I think all the strange people are getting to him." Grey tugged at her shirt and she knew he wanted her to pick him up.
"Give me a tic." Sighing, she crouched down beside him and looked him in the eye. "You know you're getting too big for this, right? I'm not big and strong like your Da, I'm not built for carrying around little boys who don't want to walk on their own two legs."
He wrapped his arms around her shoulder, burying his face against her neck, and she rolled her eyes as she scooped him into her arms and settled him on her hip. "Just this once. Because they're strangers, and you've had a long day."
She stood again, and gave Rhys an apologetic look. He was frowning at her, not angry so much as considerate. "Never pictured you for bringing home strays, Gwen. Not after that Emma, at least."
Gwen frowned her army tightening protective around Grey. "He isn't a stray, Rhys. Don't call him that." She gave him one of her best icy looks. "I'm seeing his father."
Grey still had face buried against her neck though he peered out at Rhys ever so often, his expression wary as if he could sense the tensions between the two adults.
Rhys blinked, confused and not at all happy to find himself thus. Here was Gwen, and she'd not only apparently moved on, but she was playing happy homemaker? "What's that make, one a month?"
He regretted the words as soon as he said them, especially in front of the child, but there was no way to take them back.
Gwen's frowned deepened. "You think I'm running from bloke to bloke now?" she asked sharply, then softened her tone as Grey held on tighter. There were so many things she wanted to say but she couldn't and wouldn't in front of Grey. "He's John's."
Rhys' jaw actually dropped at that. "They let that bastard raise a /child/?"
Grey whimpered softy and Gwen practically growled. "John is a damn good father," she snapped. "You have no right saying something like that. No right at all."
"I have every right, Gwen. He threatened my life, and he meant every word of it. The man is dangerous. There's something not right about him, something broken. I can't believe you'd stand behind him taking care of a child. What happened, kid fall out of the rift and Jack said you could play parents for a while?"
Gwen made a sound of fury and outrage, trying to control herself. "You bloody well know nothing, Rhys. John is Grey's father and a good one. You have no idea what he's done for his son."
Grey started crying against her neck, his small body trembling. Gwen broke off abruptly and cuddled him to her. "Shh, its okay, Grey. It's okay baby."
Gwen stroked his back and kissed his head trying to calm him down even while she was furious at Rhys.
Rhys sighed, looking away and rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. Not about what I said, because I think he's a loose canon and that Torchwood's going to regret taking him on, but it's your life now. I'm sorry I upset the kid, I didn't mean to. I'll just..." He gestured toward the door. "I'll leave you alone. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Gwen. As a friend."
"I don't know what kind of monster you've painted him as in your head, but you're wrong," Gwen struggled to give her voice even. "He doesn't scare me. John would never hurt Grey."
"Maybe not. I only ever knew him from a few pints at the pub. But you didn't see the look in his eyes when he warned me off, Gwen. He'd have killed me, if I said no, and I don't think he'd have broken a sweat. So yes, he scares the shit out of me. You're a fool if he doesn't scare you, too. But that's none of my business, now, is it?" He shook his head and adjusted his grip on his glass. "If you'll excuse me?"
Gwen nodded and held Grey tightly trying to concentrate on comforting the boy. "I'm sorry, Grey," she whispered softly. "You shouldn't of had to hear any of that."
The boy shifted in her grip, arms around her neck tight but not too tight. "Dun care. Home?"
Gwen stroked his back. "Best idea I've heard to tonight, baby. Let's find your da." She looked around the room to see if she could spot him.
John frowned as he caught sight of Gwen and Grey sitting at a table a bit apart from most of the group, Gwen talking quietly to another woman as Grey dozed in her lap. There was something off about her body language, but he couldn't quite tell what it was. He strolled up behind her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sorry about that. Everything all right, luv?"
Her smile was slightly strained and she looked a bit tried and stressed. "I think we should get Grey home," she told him.
He nodded, refraining from asking if it was just Grey who wanted out. "I was worried it might be a bit soon for such a large crowd." He extended a hand to the woman sitting opposite Gwen. "John Hart."
She smiled, and shook his hand. "Mary David-George." She gestured to the children still occupied in the far corner. "Two of those are mine, and before you say it, Gwen, don't apologize for heading out. You've got my number, we can get together another time."
"Thanks, Mary," Gwen said sincerely getting to her feet, Grey still in her arms. "Will you take him, John? He's getting a bit heavy for me."
Out of everyone she'd talked to that evening, the conversation she'd enjoyed most had been Mary. It was an unexpected surprise, as they'd only known each other peripherally in uni. Mary understood awkward social entanglements, though; she hadn't asked questions about the obvious tiff with Rhys, and Gwen had been grateful for someone to sit with while she calmed down Grey.
John took the sleeping boy, unable to hold back a smile as Grey muttered a string of nonsense in welsh syllables in response to the change in shoulders. "Right, off we are, then. Mary, it was lovely seeing you. Gwen, you lead, and I'll follow."
Gwen stroked Grey's back affectionate and nodded. She didn't say much until they'd gotten out of the pub and to the car. "At least he won't fight his bedtime tonight," she offered with a weak smile, wanting to tell John about running into Rhys but at the same time...
John nodded absently, strapping Grey into his booster seat and sliding behind the steering wheel. He waited until they turned onto the main road before breaking the silence. "What happened while I was gone, Gwen?"
Gwen bit her lip and looked out the window. "I ran into Rhys," she told him.
He nodded, several things making a bit more sense. "Take it he wasn't too keen on you seeing me?"
Gwen nodded. "We were having a civil conversation and Grey came over. All the people were getting to him I think." she sighed. "Rhys tried talking to him and things just sort of went down hill after he found out Grey was yours. He..." she stopped not wanting to repeat what Rhys had said.
John waited until he'd pulled into the car park before speaking again, turning to face her once the engine was off. "It's okay, Gwen. You don't have to worry about defending my honour with Rhys, because to be honest I don't give a rat's arse what he thinks of me. I wish Grey hadn't been there, but that's more because of what he'll pick up when emotions get high. I'm...I'm not a nice person, Gwen, or I certainly haven't been at times. I'm fine with that, and I've been called a lot worse than whatever Rhys might have said." He frowned, eyes narrowing as he studied her expression. "He didn't insult you, did he?"
Gwen thought about lying, but they had promised to try and not do just that. "He implied some things, I probably deserved it though," she allowed. "But that's not what upset me, not really. He honestly seems to think you'll hurt Grey or me. He told me I was crazy for not being scared of you."
John leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "Like I said, luv, I'm not always a nice man. Rhys saw that, and I actually think better of him for warning you off." John smirked, shifting as he unbuckled his seat belt. "Not that you didn't know that, what with the lipgloss and the handcuffs and all. I've told you before about boundaries, lines I won't cross. Physical abuse, that's one of mine. Jack's the only time I ever crossed that line, and, well, with Jack, things are always complicated."
Gwen leaned over across the seats and kissed him fiercely. "He still had no right to imply you weren't a good da to Grey." She pulled back and undid her own seat belt.
John turned away, hand on the door release and voice quiet. "Maybe I'm not. I'm not who I was when he was born, Gwen. I've done thing in the name of getting him back that I never want him to know about. What if the Agency shows up, takes me away or takes him away? How is that any better than where he was to start with?"
She reached out and slid her and over his arm. "You love him and you do your best by him. You're a good father, Grey adores you." she said quietly. "And if the Time Agency shows up, we deal with it. If something happened to you, I'd take care of him. You know that."
He blinked, pulling back far enough to get a good look at her face, expression disconcerting in its honesty. "You'd do that for him?"
Gwen nodded. "Course I would, John. I love him too," she told him finding his hand and squeezing gently. "and he's yours."
"You have no idea how much better than makes me feel. Always good to have a plan, even if you never want to use it. He loves you too, you know."
"Yeah, I know," she squeezed his hand again. The Time Agency wasn't taking either of them from her if she could help it. "We should get him in to bed."
John nodded, and leaned over to kiss her again. "We should." He reached up, trailing his thumb over her cheek before brushing it against her lips. "And then, we should get to bed. Long day tomorrow, and all that nonsense." He smirked, somehow making the familiar expression seem far dirtier than it normally was.
Gwen's mouth curved into a smile before she nibbled at his bottom lip. "Sounds like a brilliant plan," she told him, sliding away from him to climb out of the car.
Gwen watched as John carefully pulled Grey's door shut as so not to wake the sleeping child. "He finally go down?" she asked softly.
John sighed, and walked into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. He'd head for the whiskey, but he'd been cutting down ever since reclaiming his son. He might not believe in rehab, but he wasn't above behaviour adjustment when there was sufficient incentive. "Down, out, sleeping like the dead." He took a long sip of water. "God, I wish I could turn off like that."
"Don't we all," Gwen said with a slight smile. She moved up behind him slinging a arm around his waist. "I'm glad he seems to be settling in a bit."
John looked down, contemplating his glass. "He's doing better than I expected."
"He's a brave little boy," Gwen told him. "Just like both his parents."
John attempted a laugh, falling a touch short of honest levity. "He shouldn't have to be brave, and don't think you're being subtle. If you want to bring Jack into this, just do it. I don't have the patience for politics tonight."
Gwen bit her bottom lip. "We never did talk about whether Jack should be told about Grey. I know you'd rather ignore the issue, but it would be better to decide now then wait for Jack to find out somehow, or the time agency to come after you."
John slammed his glass down on the counter, turning to gift her with the full extent of his anger. "Jack doesn't /care/, Gwen. Every. Single. Time. Every time I saw him in the years after they took Grey, he accused me of being heartless. Jack's had a hundred years to move on with his life, and at this point I think Grey and I should be granted the same right. Not for me, but for Grey's sake. He's finally got something stable, and I don't want to damage that if I can avoid it. I won't."
Gwen moved away from him slightly, leaning against the kitchen counter. "John, there's something I haven't told you."
John leaned back against the island, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied her. "Why do I get the feeling that I won't like this?"
She wouldn't look at him. "After I lost the baby, Jack took me aside," she told him softly. "He wanted me to know that I could talk to him. That he knew what it was like." She turned her head slightly, but still didn't meet his eyes. "Jack thinks he miscarried Grey about eight months in, John. He thinks Grey is dead."
John's eyes widened in shock, and he dropped his hands to his side, gripping the countertop hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. "No, he, he would have said something. Anything." He closed his eyes, rifling through memories in search of confirmation, only to find it lacking. Opening them again, he shifted his attention to Gwen, laughing darkly. "All this time, I thought he just let it go." He shook his head. "Bastard never would tell me why he left the Agency."
"I'm telling the truth, John. It's what they told him and I know he wasn't lying," she protested thinking he was being sarcastic or mocking. Gwen turned and put a hand on his arm. "He thought you abandoned him and that you were taunting him when you asked about Grey. I'm sorry, I should have told you when I found out. I should have told you long before this." Her stomach was in knots and she couldn't full understand why this pain felt like her pain. She was truly a third party in this.
John laughed again, this time more genuinely. He placed his hands on Gwen's shoulders, stilling her anxious movements. "I believe you, Gwen. Wish I didn't, because it means Jack's not the bastard I thought he was, but I know what the Agency can do. have done. There was a reason every third person deserted within the first two years. Hardly anyone made it to ten. It's...fuck, Gwen. I can't even be pissed at him anymore, because I know what it's like." He took a deep breath, letting his head fall forward, voice growing softer. "I know what it's like."
"What's kinder, letting him keep on believing what he does or to tell him?" Gwen wrapped a arm around him, resting her head on his chest. "And god I hope the time agency never comes here," she whispered softly.
"So do I, luv." He placed a kiss on crown of her head, pulling her close and resting his cheek against her hair. When he spoke next, his words came with the air of the carefully considered. "Jack has mourned, Gwen, and he's found a degree of peace. Things between me and him, they'd never go back how they were. Why remind him of something he can never have back?"
She nodded just slightly after a moment. "Probably the best decision," she murmured. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I didn't want you to be hurt either."
He sighed, pressing another kiss to her forehead as he pulled away. "I appreciate that, luv. But this can't happen again. I've got a past, you've got a past. Fine. You work Torchwood, I work security. Fine. Work is work, I'm all about that. But personal secrets we can't keep. Not with the way our lives run. Not if you want this to last more than a few months."
"I do want it to last," Gwen told him softly. "I like what we have, I love Grey. I wasn't choosing Jack over you." She knew that worried him sometimes even if he never said it. After all how many times had she chosen Jack over Rhys, over herself?
"I do, too. I wouldn't push if I didn't. Just...I know it's hard, and I know I've got a shit background, but tell me these things. Don't keep secrets, especially not about me or Grey. I said I wouldn't push about Torchwood, and I won't, but Grey? Grey I'll push you right out of our lives if I think you're hiding something. He comes first. And I will do whatever it takes to keep him safe."
"So would I." Gwen told him with a voice steadier than she felt. John always seemed to hold all the cards but she couldn't resent him in this, not when it came to protecting Grey. She found his hand and threaded her fingers through his. "I promise no more secrets like this."
He gazed into her eyes for a long moment, long enough that she wondered if he was prowling around her mind before discarding the idea as ridiculous. Just as she began to rethink her impression of his mental morals, he seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for, tension seeping from his body as he pushed himself off the counter he'd been leaning against. "I believe you. And I promise, no more unexpected trips. Not if I can help it." He shifted, cracking his back as he did so. "Just so you know? I hate this emotional shit."
Gwen managed a small smile and leaned up to kiss him. "No more emotional shit tonight then," she offered. "Let me give you a back rub, sounds like you need one."
He quirked an eyebrow at her suggestively. "Just a backrub?"
Gwen nibbled at his bottom lip sliding her hands onto his hips. "When is it ever 'just a backrub'?"
"Mmm. Good answer." He slid a hand into her hair, adjusting the angle so he could return her attentions properly. "Very good idea."
Gwen laughed, a light happy sound. "I'm full of good ideas," she promised pulling him towards the bedroom.
He allowed her to take the lead, chuckling as they stumbled through the door to his bedroom. "Every once in a while you might come up with a decent one, yeah."
"Arse," Gwen accused affectionately.
It had been 48 hours from hell and Gwen wanted nothing more than to head home to her flat and sleep. Jack had taken mercy on them when the crisis was over and sent them all home. Everyone accept Ianto who was under orders from both Owen and Jack not to drive with the pain killers in his system. Gwen rather envied Ianto's rather sort stumble to a nice soft bed while she still had a ten-minute drive.
Gwen yawned as she stopped a traffic light, fighting to keep her eyes open. When her mobile rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin and fumbled for it swearing that if it was Jack there better be aliens invading the hub. She didn't recognize the number though.
"Hello?" She answered, trying to concentrate on driving at the same time.
"Hello, Ms. Cooper? This is Heford Primary, calling in regards to Grey?" A friendly female voice came over the line.
Gwen was suddenly much more awake. "Is he okay? Is everything alright?"
"Grey's in the schools nurse's office at the moment, we're going to have to ask that you pick him up early today. Poor dear is running a fever and got sick at snack time. We tried calling his father but no one is picking up at the numbers we have for him."
She tried to think of why John wouldn't be answering either phone and didn't like any of the thoughts that came to mind. "I'll be right over to pick him up."
"Thank, Ms. Cooper. Just sign in at the front desk and you can pick him up in the nurse's office."
As soon as she ended the call, Gwen tried calling John. The number for the flat rang and rang before going to voice mail, his mobile went straight to the message system. Gwen hissed out a breath through her teeth and hung up.
When she finally reached the school it took a bit to find where parents and visitors to park, more time to sign in and show ID and explain twice why she was picking up a student with a different last name than her before someone checked the authorized pick up names in his folder. Grey was sitting on one of the cots in the nurse's office when she finally reached it.
"You must be Ms. Cooper," the nurse.
"Yes," Gwen said resisting rolling her eyes. "I was told Grey's sick?"
Nurse Jenkins nodded. "Yes, poor thing is running a bit of a fever and thrown up twice. I'm actually surprised he was sent into school today." She gave Gwen a sharp look.
"I'll ask his father when he gets home, I wasn't there when he was dropped off at school this morning. I had to work a double shift," Gwen told the nurse, unsure as why she was defending herself.
She nodded in sympathy "That's dads' for you. And often little boys this age want to be tough like their da's. He might not have told your husband anything."
Gwen didn't correct her. "Can I take him home now?"
"Of course," Nurse Jenkins told her, then smiled at Grey. "I hope you feel better tomorrow, young man."
Grey nodded, still looking at his feet.
"C'mon Grey, let's get you home." Gwen said softly , bending down to pick him up. He was sick after all, and John not being the one to pick him up could be upsetting him.
Grey nodded again and wrapped his arms around her neck, clinging to her tightly. "Sorry," he whispered.
"S'okay, you didn't mean to get sick, Grey," Gwen assured him as she carried him out the car. She had to fumble one handed to get the booster seat out of the trunk. "Everyone gets sick sometimes. Even me and your da."
The little boy's bottom lip started to tremble at the mention of his da. "Gonna be mad."
"Who, your da?" Gwen shook her head as she strapped Grey in. "No, he's not going to be mad."
Grey shook his head but didn't say anything else. Gwen frowned worriedly, wishing she knew what had happened that morning. Suddenly John not answering his phones became more worrying. Had the Time agency had come for him? What if he'd lef--
She didn't let herself finish the thought. "Let's go home and get you something to help you feel better, okay?" she looked at him through the rear view mirror as she pulled out of the parking lot.
"Kay," Grey sounded almost as tired as Gwen felt.
She tried John's phone again and once again in went straight to voice mail. By the time they'd reached the building, Grey had fallen asleep. Gwen carefully unbuckled him from the booster seat and carried him up to John's flat. Fumbling with the keys after no one answered the buzzer, she wondered why she didn't just take Grey to her apartment, then she got the right key in and let them in.
Gwen set Grey down on the couch and went to rummaged for the bottle of children's fever reducer she knew she'd bought when she'd been stocking their bathrooms with everything they could possibly need for Grey.
"Grey, do you want to try and eat something?" she asked softly, waking the boy so she could give him the medicine.
Grey shook his head and kept him mouth closed against the spoon full of liquid.
"It's medicine, Grey, it'll make you feel better," Gwen promised him.
Grey shook his head again, pulling his legs to his chest and hiding his face. "No, no, no, no, no. Not bad. Not bad."
"No, Grey, you're not bad," Gwen assured him, stroking his hair. God, she needed John here. He'd know why Grey was freaking out, he'd know what Gwen was doing wrong. "Look see, it's good, we can both take some."
She waited until Grey peered out at her before taking the spoonful of medicine herself. "See?" she said softly. "Do you want to try now?"
After a long moment Grey nodded. He scrunched his eyes closed as if he expected it to hurt. When he'd swallowed, he opened his eyes in surprise. "Taste good."
"Yeah, grape flavor is tasty," she agreed. "Do you want to try and eat some soup?"
He shook his head. " Can I have some juice?"
A half hour later, Gwen had Grey changed out of his school clothes into PJs and watched him down to glasses of orange juice. He was tired but wouldn't lay down unless she did as well. Sighing softly, Gwen finally agreed, exhausted herself.
She lay in John's bed with Grey cuddled against her, half drifting to sleep.
"Da, was mad," Grey whispered jarring Gwen slightly awake.
"Why was he mad, sweetie?" Gwen asked stroking his hair.
"Cuz I was takin' too long. Big meetin' 'day he said," Grey sniffed, a little hiccup in his voice. A small shudder went through his tiny body. "I'll be in trouble." He hiccuped again.
Gwen hugged him fiercely but gently. "No, no, Grey. Your da loves you more than anything else in the whole universe. He's not going to be mad because you were sick. You aren't in trouble. I promise." She rubbed circles on his back trying to calm him down. "Did you get in trouble before, when you got sick?"
Hesitantly Grey nodded. "Yelled at us first. Then sent you to the doctors when if you weren' fakin'. They---hurt." Grey's small hand tightened in Gwen's shirt. "Sometimes kid stay'd gone."
"That's not going to happen here," Gwen promised him again, kissing his forehead. "I won't let it."
Whether Grey believed her or not, he soon calmed down enough to fall asleep. Gwen feel asleep soon after, thinking that she'd just take short nap then call John.
***
John was torn between fury and relief at the sight of Gwen and Grey fast asleep on the bed. Relief because they were fine, Grey was fine. The school had told him Gwen Cooper had picked up Grey but when she hadn't answered her mobile all he could think was the Time Agency had found them.
Once he knew they were safe, fine, untouched...he could get pissed. Because how dare she make him feel like that. How dare she not even think to call him. Grey was his son, he should be the one taking care of him.
"John?" Gwen voice was soft and exhausted. She lifted her head looking confused as to what had dragged her awake. Her forehead wrinkled slightly.
"Get up, I want to talk to you," John said. He forced his voice to stay low and even, not wanting to wake up Grey.
Gwen looked confused gently sliding her arm from around the sleeping boy. "His fever's gone down. We should wake him soon to eat and to take more medicine," she told him around a yawn.
"Later. Living room. Now." He grabbed her wrist and jerked her to her feet.
She almost fell, catching herself on his forearm. "John?"
He let her go, reminding himself that he was pissed at her. She hadn't called even once. Hadn't even tried to let him know how Grey was. He paused over his son and ran a gentle hand over Grey's head.
"Children get sick, John. He's alright," Gwen reasoned. Her eyes were wary when he looked back at her and dark ringed.
He purposefully ignored her until they reached the living room. "What the bloody hell were you thinking, not even calling me? He's my son, mine to look after and protect. Not yours! I should have been the one getting him, not being left too worry that someone posing as you snatched him," his words were sharp but soft. He pushed ahead the fact from his own mind that he'd been worried for her as well.
"The school said they called you, you didn't answer and you didn't call them back. Someone needed to get him," Gwen protested. "Why are you getting so upset? He's fine. Why does it matter which one of us picked him up as long as one of us did."
"Because you should have called me. Instead I found out he was sick from a message. I told you not to keep things from me," he hissed at her.
She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't keeping things from you, John. It's hardly my fault you couldn't be buggered to check your messages today. Your own fault."
"Get out."
He heard her inhale sharply. "What?"
"Get out and stay away from Grey," he repeated, watching the pain flash across her face with no sense of satisfaction and part of him knew he was handling this badly.
"John, no," Gwen protested. "Just calm down. All I did was pick up Grey from school sick."
"You didn't call him. You gave him medicine when you have no clue what could be harmfully to him or not. You didn't even answer you damn mobile," he pointed out.
"You didn't answer the calls from your precious son's school so why the hell would I have thought you'd answer my call. You put me down as an emergency contact. You gave the school permission to let me pick him up when need be. I've been the one dealing with him throwing up everything that touched him stomach for a few hours. I've been the one taking care of him. You didn't even notice that your son was sick this morning or that you scared him because he made you late this morning!" Gwen voice cracked and shook. She wrapped an arm around herself before grabbing her purse and heading to the door.
In the bedroom, Grey started crying. John watched as Gwen stopped and turned looking back towards the bedroom.
John was rooted to the spot. Grey was crying for her. For both of them, like he'd done in the past.
Gwen didn't look at him at all as she turned full and headed into the bedroom to comfort Grey.
John stared after her as she disappeared down the hallway, confused as much as he was upset. It didn't make sense. Grey was his responsibility. His child. Not Gwen's. Clenching his hands into fists, he stalked down the hallway after her. The discussion was not over until he said it was.
Gwen was sitting on the bed holding Grey stroking his hair gently. "Shh, no, no you're not in trouble. It's alright Grey," she murmured softly to the boy. " I was just talking to your Da. Everything's okay." She was obviously making an effort to keep both her voice and emotions calm for Grey.
John opened his mouth to insist that they return to the conversation, but closed it when she shot him a glare, dropping to his knees next to the bed. "She's right, Grey. I'm not mad."
He reached a tentative hand out, brushing against Grey's cheek. He'd forgotten about 'medicine'. He closed his eyes as Grey's reactions suddenly made sense.
Gwen smoothed a hand down Grey's back again. Grey gave hiccupping sob, and turned his head to look at his father. "Were mad 'his mornin'," he whispered. "An-- got in trouble in school. Got sick."
"He threw up in class, they sent him to the nurse," Gwen told John softly still stroking Grey's back. "And you weren't in trouble for that, baby. You weren't in trouble at all."
John glanced up at Gwen, anger melting away under his son's anxious gaze. "Gwen's right, luv. Nobody's angry with you. You're not in Civil anymore, it's okay to be sick."
"Didn't mean to be sick," Grey whispered anxiously to him.
"Grey, why don't you let your da hold you and I'll get you some juice, okay baby?" Gwen said softly, aware that John probably didn't like the way Grey clung to her. As he pointed out, Grey was his son.
Grey mumbled something incomprehensible, but made no fuss when she eased out from beside him and stood. John caught her eye, silently indicating that they'd have the rest of the conversation later, after Grey was asleep again.
"Da?" Grey whispered when Gwen at left the room. "Gwen's brave, like you."
John settled himself onto the bed, pulling the boy into his arms. "She is at that, Grey. She's a good woman, and believe me when I tell you that those are hard to find." He smiled faintly. "Damned confusing, though."
"She took medicine with me," Grey told him, snuggling down against his father eyes closing again.
John smirked in spite of himself. "Did she now?"
Grey nodded sleepily. "Scared it was bad medicine an' hurt."
"Gwen would never do that to you, luv." John leaned down, pressing a kiss to Grey's forehead. "She loves you almost as much as I do." As he spoke the words, he realized that they were true - not just a comfort for a small child.
Gwen came back then with a glass of juice, which Grey drank sleepily. It didn't take long before the little boy was soon back asleep, curled up on his father's bed.
Once Grey had nodded off, John carefully manoeuvred the boy's head onto the pillow and slipped off the bed to join Gwen. "Kitchen." He didn't bother to elaborate, just turned and headed to put the kettle on.
Gwen followed after a moment, her own exhaustion catching up with her. She wanted to curl up and sleep, but John wasn't going to let this go, and she was going to lose this. "If this is going to be a repeat of earlier, I'd rather just go to my flat and sleep," Gwen told him. Wondering when they'd gone from him being thankful that she'd take care of Grey to seeming to hate her for it.
He looked up from setting out the mugs, eyes revealing none of his earlier anger, although not revealing much of anything else, either. "This won't take long." He frowned as she yawned again. "How long have you been up? I mean, before you brought Grey home."
"Forty-eight hours...give or take a few hours," Gwen told him, leaning against the counter. Her eyes were wary as she followed his movements. "I was on my way home when the school called me."
He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning away to make the tea as the kettle clicked off. When he turned back, his expression had changed into one of resolve. "With those hours, I can forgive the lapse. This time. But you need to understand that this isn't about you. It's about Grey, and keeping Grey safe. I won't apologize for that."
"And that is exactly what I did," Gwen pointed out sharply. "You didn't answer your phone. It was going straight to voice mail. The school called you several times. I called your mobile and had it go straight to voice mail. You rather I'd left him there? He was terrified John."
"I know." John slouched against the counter, rubbing his eyes with both hands for a long moment. "I know, all right? And believe me, it won't happen again. It's not that I don't trust you. I just..."
"You want him to just want and need you, and only you," Gwen said softly, closing her eyes for a moment. "I can't help it that I love him. Did you honestly expect me not to?"
John blinked, and gave her a look that implied the answer was obvious.
Gwen glared at him but it didn't have much force behind it she was too tried. Her heart hurt too much. "No, John, the answer is not obvious. Maybe if I was from your time it would be, but I'm not.""
John crossed his arms over his chest. "You're going to have to work harder than that if you expect me to actually believe that." He sighed, and broke the staring contest they'd somehow ended up in. "Children are a liability, Gwen. They burn through resources, take far more than they give. Why the Hell would you want to be saddled with that? Why invest in something with a minimal return, especially when we might be long gone in a month, a week, a year?"
"Grey is not a liability," Gwen said more sharply than she'd meant too. She'd heard things way to similar in the years she worked on the force. "or something you expect to get anything in return for what you put into them, you hope they love you back --that they grow up happy -- but..." she shook her head. "We're in a relationship, John. Grey is your son. That means he's my responsibility too, not because I'm obligated to, but because I want to. Because he's part of your life. Because I'd have to be a cold hearted bitch not to love that little boy. And if you expect me to be sorry for that..."
John dropped his hands to his hips. "Grey isn't that, not to me. But he's not yours, and that means he is a liability to you. I know you care, I'm not disputing that, but knowing you care and knowing how you see him - those are two different things. There are risks I can't take when it comes to my son."
"If that's the attitude people in your century have about children, I'm damn glad Grey's away from there. You can love and care about a child that isn't yours like they were, John. People do it all the time." She paused, "Forget it. You don't care." Gwen pushed herself away from the wall, and look blearily at the clock. She'd have to be back at work soon. "But for the record, I'd still love him even if you tried to kill me again. He's mine to protect just as much as yours, whether you like it or not."
John reached out, catching her by the shoulder. "You'd...you'd do that?"
Gwen nodded, even has her body tensed not sure what to expect out of physical contact after the roughness of earlier. "Yes, I would. Damn it John, I'd die for him." Her eyes were wet and she cursed her own weakness. "I'd kill for him."
He brought his free hand up, cupping her cheek gently. "I didn't know."
Her breath hitched. "How could you not?" Hot tears splashed down onto his hand.
He swiped his thumb against her cheek, brushing the first drops away. "You see the world in right and wrong, Gwen. I've seen too much to believe that compassion - even love - can pull things through. I wish I could see what you see, but I can't." He withdrew his hand, closing his eyes and turning his head away. "I can't lose him like I did Jack."
"You won't." This time Gwen reached out to him, brushing her fingers along his neck to cradle the back of his head. "But I don't want to lose either of you. When you weren't answering you phone, I thought something had happened to you. Because you wouldn't have just up and left Grey like that, me yeah - without a thought-, but Grey? Never."
He sucked in a sharp breath. "You could have been right."
"I know," Gwen told him softly. "I'm glad I wasn't."
"Someday you might be." He turned back to her, catching her gaze and holding it with an intensity just shy of alarming. "I will never leave Grey, not willingly. If I'm gone, you take him in. Do whatever you have to do to keep him under the radar, especially if the Agency shows up."
"I will." Gwen's voice was firm and her fingers found his and held on tightly. "I meant it when I said I'd die for him, John. I'll keep him safe no matter what I have to do."
He nodded, and released her hands to pull her into a tight hug. "You did good, earlier. I'm sorry I said...."
"Forgiven. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt but..." Gwen wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his strength. After a few moments, she was sure that was all that was keeping her up. Maybe she could get catch a power nap at some point. Or start taking Ianto's coffee straight into her blood stream.
John felt the shift in her weight, and realized exactly how close she was to falling down. He savoured the contact a moment longer, relieved that things had been sorted without bloodshed even if he did occasionally like a nice, vicious fight. Fights weren't for Gwen, those always hurt too much. He slowly released his grip, shifting so as to support her as she wavered. "Much as I'm enjoying this, you need sleep. Tea is just not going to cut it this time." He steered her toward their bedroom, ignoring her half-formed protests. "I'll call your doctor-friend, tell him you're not fit to drive."
"Jack'll have a fit," she murmured tiredly. It wasn't like she could tell Jack she didn't get any sleep because she was tending to his sick child. She slipped into the bed, mindful of Grey's sleeping presence. She had a half formed thought to move the boy into his own bedroom but she was too physically and emotionally exhausted to last long once she was actually laying down.
John leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You leave Jack to me, and just get some rest. I'll be in the lounge if you need me."
She caught his hand and pressed a sleep kiss to his knuckles. "Love you," she slurred as she drifted under.
He froze at her words, allowing his hand to linger a moment longer than he'd intended before withdrawing. "Sleep well, luv."
Two months later, Gwen got another call from Helford Primary. They apologized for the inconvenience, but Mr. Hart hadn't shown up to collect Grey, and the staff were preparing to head home and could she please come and get him?
She made it to the school in fifteen minutes, Jack swallowing down whatever complaints he'd had to her "family emergency" after Tosh stepped in and pointed out that Jack was the one who wanted them to keep up outside ties. Grey was fine, if quiet, and she'd pulled into their building's car park muttering under her breath about rogue Time Agents and excuses and favours owed.
The grumbling ended abruptly when she found John's door wide open, a man in what looked like a black leather uniform rifling through John's things - their things. The man, a Time Agent, she realized after she made the mistake of asking what he was doing there, had turned on her and demanded information. Who was she, did she know John, was the child his?
She'd informed him in no uncertain terms that Grey was hers, stormed out, and tried very hard to convince herself that she wasn't running for her life as she made her way back to the car park. It wasn't until she'd fastened him into his booster seat that she realized Grey hadn't said a word since they'd gotten into the lift.
"Shh, its okay, Grey. We're going to see some of my friends, everything's going to be fine," Gwen whispered, opening the tourist office door one-handed. Grey was on her hip, his small arms - he was so small for his age, even after several months of life with his father - wrapped around her. He'd been disturbingly quiet since they'd run into the Time Agents tearing John's flat apart, before that, even, when they'd entered the building and she'd been struck with that awful sense of foreboding.
She pull the door closed behind her, barely noting that Ianto was nowhere to be seen. He was probably still down in the main Hub, that would explain why the "closed" sign was up at half-seven.
She had no idea what she was going to tell Jack, how she was going to explain this. It wouldn't have take much for them to figure out that Grey was not hers and that she knew damn well where John was from.
Gwen leaned over the desk, pressing the button to open the door to the Hub. As the door swung open, she pressed Grey's face into her neck, making sure he didn't see anything as she stepped into the passage. One less thing for Jack to complain about.
"You'll like Jack, he's nice, and so is everyone else." Gwen assured the boy as they descended into the hub proper. Tosh wasn't at her station, so she assumed Jack had sent her and Owen home. She'd rather hoped Owen was there, since maybe he'd be on her side.
Ianto was leaving Jack's office with some papers and stopped in his tracks. "Sir, were we expecting Gwen to return with a small child or is lack of sleep starting to get to me?"
Jack looked up from his paperwork. "What? No, she said something about a family emergency."
"Well, the boy might be related to her in some form," Ianto told him.
"I take it Jack is in his office," Gwen said, walking over with Grey.
Jack frowned, and stood. "That may be, but why would she bring him here. She knows the rules."
"I'll explain, I promise Ianto." She gave him a small smile. "Could I beg a cup of your coffee? I'm going to need it tonight, I think."
Jack crossed, and stepped up behind Ianto, resting a hand on Ianto's hip and peering over his lover's shoulder. "Jack is right here." He took in Gwen, pale and clutching the child a bit too tightly. "What's wrong, Gwen?"
Grey buried his head against Gwen's neck. "What isn't wrong might be a better question," Gwen said without humour. "Jack, I know this is irregular but can he stay here with me until some things have been sorted." She hedged, chewing her bottom lip.
"I think I can mange coffee and some milk for the young man," Ianto told her, moving away to do so. He had a feeling they were all going to need the coffee.
Jack crossed his arms, not liking the way she avoided his gaze. "What kind of things?"
"Things," Gwen murmured, stroking the back of Grey's head. "Jack, I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important." She stalled trying to find away of telling him without telling him. She couldn't tell him the full truth without talking to John and if she didn't do something she might never be talking to John again.
Jack saw panic creeping in around the edges of her eyes, and decided that explanations could wait. Gwen wouldn't knowingly put them in danger, certainly not without a good cause. "He can stay, Gwen. But once he's settled we're going to have a little chat. And you're going to have to do better than 'things'."
Gwen rested her forehead against Grey's head for a moment. "Thank you," she said softly.
Ianto came back then with a tray with coffee and a glass of milk for the boy.
"Don't thank me yet. This had better be one damned good explanation. I'll tell Ianto you've gone down to the retrofitted cell-block."
Ianto returned moments later, tray in hand. Jack didn't look up from his newfound fascination with the water tower. "They're downstairs."
"Is the boy all right, Jack?" Ianto asked, setting the tray down to give Jack his coffee.
"I don't know, Ianto. There's..." Jack frowned, still staring at the tower. "There's something off about him. Not dangerous, at least I don't think so. Just off." He shook his head, turning to accept the proffered mug. "I don't know, maybe it's just the headache talking."
Ianto pressed his fingertips to Jack's temples and rubbed gently. "I'll have to do something about that," he told him. "I'll go check on them, making sure the boy has everything he needs. We have contingency plans in place for just this purpose, after all."
Jack reached up with his free hand, rubbing at his forehead before nodding. "Sounds good. Let's just hope he's not going to be here for too long. The last thing we need is a non-combatant getting stuck in the middle of our next crisis." The words were said with a brief smile, but there was too much seriousness underlying them for Ianto to miss their point.
Ianto nodded at the unvoiced request. "I'll see what I can find out, sir."
Jack smiled, this time with more genuine warmth. "You're the best."
"I know, sir," Ianto smiled softly.
Ianto found Gwen down on of the nicer cells settling Grey in under the covers. "Hey, Ianto," she said distractedly, stroking Grey's back. The boy clutched to her hand when he saw Ianto. "Shh, its just Ianto, he's nice I promise."
Ianto smiled gently, and felt something in his chest clench as the boy turned away, clinging harder to Gwen. "Don't wanna go back. Don't make me. I'll be good."
Gwen quickly gathered Grey up and rocked him gently. "You aren't going back, I promise. I promise. I'm never going to let anything happen to you. Me and your da are never going to let them hurt you."
Ianto set the tray down carefully, and turned his attention more fully to Gwen, voice gentle. "He's John's, isn't he?"
Gwen closed her eyes pressing a kiss to Grey's forehead trying to sooth the scared boy. "Yes, he is," she finally whispered. "I didn't do this to hurt Jack." She told him.
Grey hiccupped in her arms. "Want Da," he whimpered.
Ianto shook his head, expression thoughtful. "No, I didn't think you did. But it's going to hurt him all the same, isn't it?" He took the plate of biscuits off the tray and held it out to the boy. "Would you like one?"
Gwen nodded again, looking truly regretful. Grey peered out from Gwen's arm at Ianto and the biscuits. Then up at Gwen. "You can have one," she assured him.
Tentatively Grey reached out and took a biscuit. "Than' you." He lisped.
Ianto smiled in response, but made no movement to come closer. "You're quite welcome..." He shifted his attention to Gwen in a silent question.
"Grey."
He nodded, hiding the fact that the name confirmed his belief that this was going to tear Jack apart. "You're welcome, Grey."
"Let me tell him, please," Gwen asked softly as Grey munched on the biscuit and drank the glass of milk. "I wouldn't have brought him here if it wasn't necessary, Ianto."
Ianto took a deep breath, considering. Jack's secrets were his own, and it wasn't his place to tell Gwen just exactly how much of the larger picture he had. He caught her gaze as he stood to leave. "It needs to be tonight, Gwen. Not tomorrow, not next week, not after you've taken Grey home because whatever's going on has passed - and don't think I believe for a minute that Captain Hart didn't dig himself into some kind of a hole that's got you running for cover. Tonight."
Gwen bit her lip and nodded. "I will," she promised softly. "Let me get him to sleep and I'll be up."
"See that you do. Jack's got enough rattling around his past, he doesn't need this hanging over his head as well. Whatever's going on, he needs to know."
She nodded, and cocked her head to the side as she absently stroked Grey's hair back from his forehead. "Why, Ianto Jones, is that protectiveness I hear?" She smiled softly at his blush, even as his gaze stayed firm. "It's all right, I'll be up in a minute. He'll settle well enough."
True to her word Gwen was up in Jack's office not long after. She found him at this desk rubbing his temples. "Headache?" she asked.
His hand dropped to his side at her sudden appearance. "Nothing serious. Come in, take a seat."
Gwen sat down uneasily. "I know I owe an explanation," she said softly. "About the boy. About why I brought him here."
Jack settled back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to dispute that." He studied her for a moment, and then stood to grab the decanter and pour her a glass of scotch. "You brought a civilian into the Hub, Gwen. Breached ten different protocols, not to mention the moral implications." He handed her the glass and settled back into his chair. "This had better be good."
Gwen inhaled deeply for the strength to be able to do this. "He's John's son," she told. "John's missing and I can only assume the agency has him because they were at his flat. I'm not letting them take Grey back to civil, Jack. I'm not." It came out all in a rush, and she hadn't meant to be so blunt but it had come out that way.
Jack blinked in surprise. That wasn't quite the last thing he'd expected to hear, but it was close. Then the rest of her statement sank in, and any comment he might have made flew out the window. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, anger building. Anger that shouldn't be directed at her, but then the real problem had run off and left her with his mess. He swallowed hard, and finally managed to squeeze out a response. "Grey." He cleared his throat, and tried again. "John's son, Grey." He shook his head in what might have been called amusement if it hadn't held so much anger. "I knew he was a bastard, but that is beyond low."
"He's not a bastard," Gwen defended almost automatically. "And yes, he is named Grey," she allowed biting her tongue on the full truth. "Jack, please, whatever your feelings about John are -- Grey's just a little boy. I'm not letting him go back to those people." She had not idea what she'd do if Jack refused her this.
Jack rubbed at his forehead again, and wished that whatever intergalactic pressure front was coming into the area would just blow through already. "Civil, you said?" He frowned. "He's awfully young for civil."
She nodded. "He's been there since he was 18 months," Gwen told him. "John only managed to get him out a few months ago."
"What about his other parent? No family, no surrogates? That doesn't sound right. Not for a birthing permit. And John always insisted..." He shook his head again. "Never mind. John said a lot of things he never meant, as I'm sure you know. Civil, no wonder the boy was scared out of his mind." Jack sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You've got forty-eight hours. If John hasn't resurfaced by then, we'll reassess."
Gwen bit her tongue on defending John again. "Jack, there were time agents in his flat. I'd say it's pretty obvious they have him. John wouldn't have just left him at school. He loves that little boy."
"I'll take that under advisement, Gwen. For now, I'm granting the boy sanctuary. We'll sort the details in the morning. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear, but it's the best you're going to get." He rubbed at his forehead again, not even bothering to conceal a wince.
Gwen nodded and got to her feet. She started to leave the office but lingered placing a hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't have done this if I had another choice, Jack. I'm sorry."
Ianto approached the doorway, but paused just outside, unwilling to intrude.
Jack nodded. "I know, Gwen. That's why I'm letting him stay. But when this is all over, we're going to have another talk about Captain John Hart, and you're going to tell me whatever else it is you haven't thought needed mentioning until now."
Gwen looked uneasy but nodded. "I'll tell you what I can, and what's mine to tell," she told him. "I should go check on him." She slipped away leaving Ianto alone with their boss.
"Can I get you anything, sir?" Ianto asked softly, moving over to Jack.
Jack laughed without humour, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back and rubbed at the tense muscles of his neck. "Would you consider it harassment if I asked for a blow job and enough Retcon to knock me into next week?"
Ianto started to rub his neck and shoulders. "I wouldn't consider asking for a blow job harassment," he assured Jack. "Now maybe if you put it in my job requirements..."
Jack smiled more genuinely, and leaned into the gentle pressure, moaning softly. "Now you're just giving me ideas."
Ianto patted Jack's shoulder lightly, and stepped away. "Come along, sir. Let's get you to bed, and I'll see what I can do about that wish list. Although you may have to settle for some ibuprofen instead of the Retcon."
Jack grumbled, but pushed himself to his feet. "Details, details."
Ianto smirked in reply. "You hired me for my attention to detail, sir."
"No, I hired you because you looked good in a suit. The attention to details was an unexpected benefit."
Jack yawned, and stepped onto the ladder.
"I'll just be a minute, sir."
"I'll be waiting."
Jack ignored Ianto's concerned words, shrugging off the well-meant restraining hand on his arm as he stepped into the hall that contained the modified cells. He slowed of his own volition as he caught sight of the child sleeping curled up in a nest of blankets in one of the corners. Jack pressed his hand against the glass, staring at the face that had haunted the countless nightmares he had never remembered.
Grey curled up further into the blankets, his sleep restless.
"Jack, he's fine," Ianto soothed, a hand on Jack's arm. "Come back to bed before we wake him and Gwen."
Jack shook his head, shrugging off Ianto's hand without looking away. "I can't, Ianto. It's been too long. John kept this from me, and he had no right. I need to know he's real. I need to touch him. To feel him breath, the touch of his mind." Jack opened the door, and stepped into the cell, dropping to his knees and ghosting a hand over Grey's forehead.
Grey jerked back from Jack's hand, blue eyes coming open filled with what could only be called panic. "No, no," Grey whimpered huddling back away from Jack, confused and scared.
Jack drew back with a start, the reaction not at all what he'd hoped for. What he'd expected. It didn't fit with the flashes that had been sliding into his conscious mind ever since waking from the nightmare and realizing that it wasn't just an ordinary nightmare.
He kept his voice low and reassuring. "Grey? Do you remember me, son?"
Grey huddled further back against the wall, crying audible now. "I'm a good boy, I'm a good boy," he hiccupped. "Want Gwen, want Da." He was holding his head as he cried.
Jack pulled his hand further away, shifting and attempting to look as non-threatening as he could. He'd seen the behaviour before, but it had been a lifetime ago. Several, really. Not since he'd lived in his own time. He still remembered how to deal with it, though. "Ssh. I'm not going to hurt you, Grey."
Grey hiccupped and shook his head. "Gwen! Da!"
"Jack, what are you doing?" Gwen voice came from the doorway as she rushed in past Ianto. "Grey, its alright, I'm here. I'm here." She gathered Grey up into her arms as quickly as she could. "Shh, it's okay baby, its okay." Grey clung to her burying his face in her neck.
Jack opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say vanished as she glared at him. Instead, he could feel his anger rising. Gwen was a good woman, but who was she to tell him how to deal with his own son? And Grey was his son, there was no question of that in his mind, now. "I was trying to get to know my son."
Gwen's mouth closed around whatever she was going to say, her eyes opening wide. Her hand stilled for a moment as she stroked Grey's back. "How did you...you said you..." Had Jack lied to her? Had he made her a liar to John as well, God, she'd believed Jack and John had believed her...
Grey didn't loosen his grip on her, but his crying softened with Gwen comforting.
Jack shook his head angrily, gaze settling on Grey's still form. "You know how Retcon only works on most of the population? Well, let's just say there's an exception for every rule." He closed his eyes, another flash of memory surfacing at the revelation. "Believe me when I say it's not as pleasant as it sounds. I didn't put it together until I woke up; I can't believe you would keep something like this from me, Gwen." He shifted his gaze to meet hers, voice liberally laced with pain. "I thought I could trust you."
Gwen bowed her head kissing Grey's hair, trying to hide her shaking from both Jack and Grey. She could feel the boy slide back into sleep and could only be thankful, maybe he'd think this was just a bad dream. "You thought he was dead," she pointed out softly. "You'd grieved, moved on. John and Grey had the right to the same."
"He's-" He glanced at the sleeping boy and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "He's my son, Gwen. Are you saying I had no right to his life? I have more right to his life than you do. He was taken from me. I had to live with that for almost 200 years. Do you have any idea what that's like?"
Gwen looked up at him eyes full of unshed tears. "I know what its like to lose a child, Jack," she hissed back at him. "Grey had something stable for the first time in a long time, Jack. He's your son, Jack, but what would you have done? You would have tired to take him from John, wouldn't you? And it wasn't my decision to tell you or not." She gently placed Grey back onto the bed, tucking the blankets around him as she spoke.
"Damn it, Gwen." Jack's hand clenched into an involuntary fist, and he slammed it against the floor. "You're a big girl. You don't let other people make your decisions for you. Don't pull that shit with me."
Gwen's hand cradled protectively around Grey's head, as if to keep him from waking up. "Sorry, Jack but you don't come first anymore," she hissed bitterly. "I was not going to tell you and lose them, I don't care what you think of me for that. John's been through hell trying to get Grey back and if it wasn't for me he would still think you just didn't care about Grey."
"So 'not my secret to tell' only goes one way, does it?" He scoffed, turning his attention to the far wall before pushing himself to his feet. "No, now he just thinks I'm an unfit parent, is that it? Didn't even deserve to know Grey was alive, never mind in this time period?" He shook his head. "Nice to know what you really think of me, Gwen."
Gwen glanced at Grey and got to her feet. "We are not having this conversation in here, he does not need to be woken up again," she hissed through gritted teeth.
Jack gestured to the door. "Be my guest." His voice grew bitter. "You seem to be the expert on what's best for him, after all."
"I'm the one he was crying for." Gwen hands curled into fists as she stalked out of the cell. Ianto had made himself scarce but Gwen assumed he was nearby. The minute Jack left the cell she jabbed her finger against his chest. "John didn't want to tell you because he didn't want to hurt you, Jack. Because he still loves you," she hissed angrily, her hand shaking. "I will not apologize for trying to protect them both. I will not apologize for picking someone else over you for once Jack."
Jack paused at that, not liking her implication that this was all about him, because it wasn't. It was about Grey. "If John didn't want to hurt me, he should have told me that Grey was still alive. We've crossed paths a dozen times since I left the Agency, Gwen. Not once did he tell me our son was still alive." Jack grabbed her by the shoulders, and spun, pressing her up against the wall. "John does not think about what's best for other people. He thinks about what's best for John. He can't help it."
Gwen struggled against his grip. "John didn't know you thought Grey was dead until I told him, Jack! And what was he supposed to tell you, the way you acted every time he brought up Grey?" She snapped back. "The only thing John's been thinking about is what's best for Grey. Grey's everything to him, Jack. The reason he was after the diamond, why he wanted you to go with him."
Jack shook his head, releasing her and backing away. "No. John was in it for the money. He's always been in it for the money. It's the only thing that lasts, he used to say. He could have said something, anything." Jack closed his eyes as he ran into the cell wall. "He should have said something."
"He did, every time you saw each other," Gwen told him, wrapping her arms around herself. "And don't you ever talk about John that way in front of Grey...."
Jack opened his eyes, and was surprised to find that she was serious. More serious than he had seen her in a long time. He wondered absently when the change had happened, when she'd decided that Grey was hers to protect. "A child has a right to know who their parents really are."
"Not the way you were just trying it," she told him. Suddenly her head turned back towards the cell, in the moment of quiet Jack heard it too a soft sob from Grey. Gwen hurried back inside to find Grey clutching his head. "Grey, Grey, shhh," Gwen whispered stroking his hair and cradling him. "No more fighting, I promise."
Grey blinked at her tearfully. "Not go back?"
"No, no, you aren't going back, love. They're never going to hurt you ever again. Remember what me and your Da told you?" she asked softly, kissing his forehead.
Grey clutched at Gwen's jumper, digging his small fingers into the cloth. "That you won't go away. Gonna stay." He snuffled, and pressed his face into her neck. "I want Da."
Gwen hugged Grey to her. "I know you do, baby," she whispered. "I want him too, but we'll get him back. Nothing could keep him from coming back to you. Loves you more than all the stars in the sky."
Jack was forgotten in the hallway, watching through the glass, and what hurt the most was that she really did act like a mother. Her actions were completely centred on the small form clutched in her arms. It was disconcerting, and he flinched as Ianto's hand gently rested at the small of his back. He didn't bother to turn to face his lover, merely watched the scene unfolding within the cell with a kind of detachment. "It's not supposed to be this way, Ianto. It was never supposed to be this way."
"I'm sorry, Jack," Ianto whispered softly, stroking the small of Jack's back.
"Maybe we should leave them be for a little while, Jack, "Ianto suggested softly, his words as hesitant as his touch.
Jack gave a half-laugh, turning his head to catch Ianto's gaze. "What's funny is that I can't decide if I am or not. Sorry, that is. Because Grey's here now, even if it took so long to find him. And if he'd never been taken, I'd never have met you."
"You don't mean that," Ianto murmured, trying to tug Jack away. It would be better for all of them if Gwen got the boy back asleep and all further conversations were held away from him.
Jack pulled away, whirling to face Ianto. "Yes, I do. I care for you, Ianto. More than I've let myself care for anyone in a very long time. And it's not just you. If I'd never left the Agency, I'd never have met my Doctor. Never have done a lot of things." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as the adrenaline began to dissipate. "One of the first things they teach you in the Agency is that some things can't be changed. You can't change your own timeline."
Ianto reached up and stroked his hand along Jack's jaw. "I know you care for me," his voice was soft. He knew Jack wouldn't really choice him over going back and having John and Grey again -- his family again. "And it means a lot to me. I'm glad you're here too, even if that makes me selfish, because I love you."
In the background Gwen was humming softly to Grey, rocking him back to sleep. The tune was familiar, one John used to sing to Grey when he was a baby. Jack closed his eyes, trying to shut out the familiar sound in an unfamiliar voice. It was a bar ballad from the 48th Century, a down right classic by the time John had picked it up in the Agency. He tried to focus on the here and now, on the man who had just admitted that he loved him. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes and finding Ianto's worried gaze. "If it's not too much trouble, I could do with a cup of coffee."
Ianto squeezed Jack's hand. "I think I can manage to make you a cup," he assured Jack
Jack cast another glance back at Gwen, the paleness of her skin emphasized by dark smudges of exhaustion under her eyes. "I'll take the coffee in my office." He sighed, shaking his head and starting for the main door, only just realizing that he was wearing nothing but a pair of trousers and an undershirt. "I'll see what I can figure out about what's happened to John, get this resolved ASAP."
Ianto nodded and pressed a kiss Ianto Jack's mouth. "I'll bring her a cup as well," he told Jack having followed his earlier gaze.
Jack chuckled quietly, surprised to find the amusement genuine this time. "Don't bother. She'll be out by the time you get back. Let her sleep, there's nothing else she can do right now."
"Doesn't mean, she won't try," Ianto pointed out but smiled and headed towards the kitchen.
Jack rested his hand at the small of Ianto's back, reversing their earlier positions. "Of that, I have no doubt."
Gwen cradled the mug of coffee Ianto passed her gratefully. Part of her wanted to curl up with Grey and sleep but she had to talk to Jack if not to make things right between them, then find out what was happening to John. She'd go after him on her own if she had too, but she'd promised John she'd keep Grey safe. Getting herself killed or captured wouldn't help him. "Jack," Gwen said as she stepped into the office.
Jack was scribbling something on a note pad, and didn't bother to look up. "What is it?"
Gwen resisted the urge to sigh. She'd made clear where her loayalties lay, she was just going to have to deal with this. "I want to find John. You must know what might be happening to him."
Jack shrugged, still no looking up, frowning a little at his list. "Could be any number of things."
She took a drink from her mug trying to reign in the urge to snap at him. "And what would any of those number of things be?" she asked moving further into the office. She set her mug on the corner of his desk.
Jack set down his pen, and finally looked up. "What do you remember about the men in John's flat?"
Gwen tried to recall all she could about them and told Jack, including their questions about Grey and how they didn't protest her leaving with Grey once she claimed he was hers. "John was worried they might come after him once he took Grey," she finished. She ran her fingers through her hair. "Is there any chance at all he's still alive?" she asked finally voicing her worst fear.
Jack tapped the notepad on his desk thoughtfully. "From the sounds of it, they're part of the Agency. Or something affiliated with the Agency. Which means the protocols are probably still intact."
"What protocols, Jack? Is John alive or not?" Gwen asked again.
"If they're following standard agency practice, he'll be held locally for 48 hours and debriefed before transport."Gwen nails bit into her palms. "Debriefed....you mean tortured." She didn't understand how he could just calmly sit there, this was Grey's other parent no matter what Jack felt about him. "Damnit, Jack, I can't even feel him anymore. It's like he's just...gone."
Jack froze, hand mid-tap. "Feel? What do you mean, feel, Gwen? What aren't you telling me?"
Gwen felt her stomach drop in horror as she realized exactly how much she'd just let slip. "I can sort of feel him most of the time. Not where he is or anything else but..." she trailed off uncertain how much else to tell him. She couldn't tell him about the dreams that started it all, Jack would go ballistic.
Jack reached up, rubbing a hand over his face in a movement that spoke of great exhaustion. "You're psychic."
"No, I'm not," Gwen automatically denied. "It's just with John and Grey...and why does that even matter right now? They're torturing John, aren't they? We have to find him."
"It matters because it's another secret that you've been keeping from me, Gwen. From Torchwood." He sighed, looking away. " I'm not a monster, or at least I don't want to be one to my son. So we're going to find John, assuming he's still in the area." He pushed away from the desk, standing and walking past her on his way out the door. "I've had the system running a scan for temporal radiation. Should be done just about now, in fact."
"You keep plenty of secrets from us all." She couldn't help pointing out. "Gwen wanted to scream at him because she hadn't been keeping this a secret from him, she didn't even know what it was and John wasn't exactly forthcoming other than his 'for all I know you might be' bullshit. But there was John to get back. She followed him out the door. "Did it find anything?"
Jack leaned over, tapping a few keys on Tosh's keyboard. "Can't rush perfection, sweetheart."
Gwen rolled her eyes, but smiled. He hadn't called her that in a while. "Thank you, Jack. For thinking of Grey."
The computer beeped, and the monitor changed to a map view of one of the warehouse districts. "Gotcha."
"Will it just be the agent I saw with in the flat?" Gwen asked. She didn't think it was likely, but then she didn't know how these things worked. She knew that John had gone on both solo and joint missions, and it had never been something he was particular keen to talk about.
Jack nodded. "Time Agents, at least if they're following the old protocols, work in pairs. Less timelines to worry about accidentally crossing if they have to send in a secondary containment unit, and they're also easier to write off as collateral damage."
Gwen blinked. "Collateral damage?"
Jack shrugged, and jogged up the stairs into his office to grab his coat. "What can I say, every job has its risks. A few extra casualties was considered a small price to pay for good public relations."
"That's awful!"
Jack smiled, all teeth and no humour. "That's politics."
Jack glanced over his shoulder after pulling out onto the highway. "How is he doing?" John was sprawled out across the back seat, twitching in a way that screamed neural probing. Jack turned his attention back to the road, weaving around the late-night traffic on the way to the Hub.
Gwen was trying to keep John calm, his head in her lap. She stroked her fingers through his hair, while trying to keep her other shoulder still. "He's not doing well," she told Jack. She was having trouble feeling anything from John but she wasn't sure if that was her own pain doing that. Bullet wounds to the shoulder hurt like hell.
She gave him a tight smile in the rear view mirror. "I've been shot before, I'll live." She was also sure she was bleeding through her bandages but they'd be back at the Hub soon. Owen could help John then her.
Jack caught her gaze in the mirror and nodded. "Just making sure." He tapped his headset. "Owen, ETA ten minutes. Gwen's been shot, and I need you to prep a code-green trauma pack for Captain Hart."
Jack nodded at the response, and disconnected. "Owen's going to meet us in the garage. He's going to treat you first, and I want you to let him. I'll handle John."
Gwen stroked her fingers across John's temples, trying to project safety to him. She wished she made him teach her these things so we he needed her she could help him. At Jack's words her head shot up. "Jack, no! I'll be fine, just need a new bandage. John's body could be shutting down for all we know!"
Jack shook his head, but kept his eyes on the road. "I know what they did to him, Gwen. There's nothing Owen can do for him after the initial injections. He's just going to have to ride it out, and we'll hope for the best. The drugs aren't fatal - they were conducting an interrogation, not random torture."
"He's blank, Jack," Gwen told him her voice shaking. It was horrifying, even more horrifying than it had been when she couldn't feel him while at the hub. But to be able to touch him and still feel nothing? "What did they give him?"
"You should be glad he's blank, Gwen. Although when he's stabilized we're going to sit down and have a talk about when, exactly, you started manifesting psychic abilities and what you can do with them." He shot a wry glance at her through the mirror. "If he's blank, that means his defences are still functioning. He's keeping you out, because he doesn't want you getting hurt. He's been trained to deal with this - we all were, once upon a time. You're not, and I need you conscious, so I'm damn glad he's remembered that much of the protocols."
Gwen winced, knowing that telling Jack about the dreams weren't going to make John look any better in Jack's eyes. "This is going to scare Grey," she said softly after several minutes of silence. They were almost to the hub. She hoped to God that Grey was still asleep or that Ianto would be able to keep him away until she could get cleaned up enough not to scare him.
Jack tapped his headset back on as he turned onto the alley which acted as access for Torchwood's garage. "Ianto? I need you to...Right, exactly." His expression softened as the garage door slid open. "Thank you."
"Ianto will take care of him?" Gwen asked worriedly, though it was obvious she wanted to take care of Grey herself but knew she was in no fit state at the moment. She could see Owen as they pulled in and ran her fingers through John's hair once more.
Jack nodded, slamming on the brakes and opening his door. He pulled open Gwen's door with an impatient expression. "Ianto will take care of him. Owen will take care of you, and I will take care of John. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," Gwen sniped.
Gwen had cuddled and reassured Grey as much as she could with her left arm in a sling before leaving him dozing under Ianto's watch. Grey seemed to like Ianto, Gwen thanked god for that, and Ianto seemed very fond of the little boy already. Probably could see Jack in him, Gwen wagered. She headed for the infirmary wanting to see John, needing to see him.
Jack was waiting as she emerged from the cells, leaning against the rail with his arms crossed. "We need to talk."
"Now?" Gwen asked, looking towards the infirmary. She'd feel so much better if she could feel anything but blankness from John.
Jack reached out, catching her by the elbow. "Yes, now. John can wait. He's going to be sleeping off the drugs for the next 48 hours, and it's not going to be pretty. Ten minutes either way won't make much difference."
Gwen opened her mouth to argue with him then snapped it shut and nodded. "I was kind of hoping you'd forget."
Jack shook his head as he guided her up to his office. "I take psychic abilities very seriously, Gwen. That kind of thing can make you a serious liability in the field."
She glared at him. "Jack, I'm still me. I haven't changed." She didn't have any insight into people that she didn't have before, didn't have the sudden ability to know what people were thinking --and that would have come in handy with John a time or two --
Jack closed the door behind him and leaned against it. "Psychic doesn't mean telepathic, Gwen."
"I'm still the same person I always have been," she insisted again. She started to pace.
Jack shook his head, and caught her on her second pass. "No, Gwen, you're not. You might not realize it, but you're in for a world of pain if you don't deal with this now. Not six months from now, not next year. Now. And the first step to dealing with it is acknowledging it."
"It's just with John and Grey," she told him, looking up at him. "I think something with John woke up the ability or something, but its just with them. I swear." She didn't mention that it had grown stronger with John and how she refused to give it a name or really acknowledge it with him until his 'feel' suddenly wasn't there. It was so such easier to admit to it with Grey.
Jack nodded thoughtfully, but didn't release her. "So it requires reciprocal ability, all right. That makes this a bit easier to deal with. Is it stronger with physical contact?"
Gwen nodded, really hoping he didn't ask about what set it off. "It is. I have to watch myself when I'm upset around Grey. He picks up on things so easily.
Jack rubbed his thumbs gently against Gwen's collar bone, and gave her a half-smile. "You always have to be the contrary one, don't you Cooper?"
She gave him a half-smile. "I don't try to be."
Jack shook his head softly, before leaning in and pressing his forehead against hers. "Yet somehow you always manage it." He closed his eyes, brushing ever so gently against the edges of her mind. He wasn't psychic, not on the levels the tests could detect, but he'd been around long enough that he'd picked up a trick or three. After a long moment, he let out a quiet sigh of relief and pulled away.
Gwen's eyes were wide a she looked at him. "Jack?" She'd felt that same gently pressure before with John but until recently hadn't really understand it.
"Had to check something." He smiled sheepishly at her. "Nothing to worry about.
"Did I pass whatever test you were trying?" she asked.
Jack's smile became a full-fledged grin. "Nope! Failed miserably, in fact."
Gwen laughed at Jack's expression. "Okay, then." She was still confused but at least Jack didn't seem worried. "I wasn't keeping this a secret on purpose, Jack. John didn't want to talk about it for the most part so I kind of pushed it to the background."
Jack's expression sobered, and he pulled away, glancing out the window of his office in the general direction of the infirmary. "No, no I can imagine he wouldn't."
Gwen rested her hand on his arm. "Why, Jack? You know him better than even I do." Jack gave her an appraising look, as if trying to pull her intentions from the planes of her face and failing badly. He sighed, and squeezed the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. "I'm not sure it's my place to tell, Gwen. John has a lot of history, and a lot of it is very dark. While I may not like him, there are some things that it would be morally dubious for me to share."
Gwen looked like she might push for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "He's very closed mouthed about his past. I know he was in civil after his parents died, I know he was with you in the Time Agency, that he loved you and how everything fell apart but..." she shrugged her shoulders. "I think he's scared to tell me too much sometimes."
Jack shook his head, looking away. "Not 'civil' - Civil. It's a slang term for the Federal Juvenile Facilities in the trading worlds. They provide care for children without secondary family members willing or able to take them in following the death of their parents. Where I come from..." Jack took a deep breath. "There are a lot of orphans where I come from."
"John said that you wouldn't go hungry but you weren't happy," Gwen murmured. "I'm so glad Grey's away from there. It sounded like a horrid place."
Jack turned his gaze back to her, expression oddly blank. "War was war, Gwen. A lot of people died, and it happened more often in the commerce colonies like the one John was born in. The government did what they could, and while it wasn't perfect, it was better than the alternatives. It depended on the facility, the staff, the status of supplies." He shrugged. "Hell, John only made it into the Academy because he got an appointment slot."
"The pride and joy of the agency and the bloke that was just lucky to be there," Gwen said with hint of bite to her voice.
Jack shrugged again, his smirk not quite reaching his eyes. "What can I say, I've never really cared what people thought of me."
Gwen raised and eyebrow at that. "I'm going to see John."
Jack nodded, moving to open the door, but pausing with his hand on the knob. "Gwen, I want you to promise me something."
Gwen took a deep breath. "Tell me what it is first." Gone were the days when she'd have promised Jack just about anything without even asking first.
"Don't believe anything he tells you." He raised a hand when she tried to cut him off. "I don't mean forever, Gwen. But they were probing his mind, digging about for anything of value, and things are going to be pretty scrambled until the drugs are out of his system. He'll go from lucid to memory in a heartbeat, and I don't want you getting hurt by that."
She put her hand over his and squeezed gently. "I can promise that," she told him softly. "And thank you."
"Just be careful with him, Gwen. I know you think he loves you, but with what he's seen, I don't know that it will be enough. It wasn't before." He shook his head, and turned to open the door. "I'm going down to check on Ianto. We'll be on the comms if you need anything, although I think Owen's opted for the couch just outside the infirmary, so he might be the better option."
"Grey should be a bit more friendly if he's up, he likes Ianto," Gwen told him with a shaky smile before she started to the infirmary.
Jack blinked, and swallowed hard as she walked away. "Thank you."
She looked back at him over her shoulder and nodded. When she reached the infirmary, Owen was cat napping on the sofa. She walked past him into where John was –sleeping, or so she thought at first.
He shifted, and she could see that his eyes were open in the dim light, staring at her in rapt attention.
"John?" Gwen said softly, walking over to him. "Are you --" she cut herself off from asking such a stupid question, and hesitantly brushed her fingers against his arm.
He flinched away from the contact, and then moaned as it brought further pressure from the restraints circling his wrists. "I don't know anything."
Gwen quickly withdrew her fingers, kicking herself for being so stupid. "John, you're safe here. No one's going to hurt you," she reassured him. "Do you recognize me? It's Gwen."
John frowned, squinting at her. "Gwen? I knew a girl named Gwen, once. Pretty little thing. Died when she was seventeen, though, so that can't be you..."
Gwen inhaled sharply, she hadn't known that, but he could be lying just as Jack said. "I'm a different Gwen. Gwen Cooper," she told him.
"Oh." John gave a disappointed sigh, and laid his head back on the pillow. "Pity, she was a sweet girl. Didn't deserve it. Thought maybe I'd died, and caught up to her again. Never managed to die before, though." He turned his head away. "Cooper, eh? Awful backward name, don't you think? Cooper. Coo-Per. Barrel-maker. Not exactly noble, is it?"
"No, it's not," she agreed with a small smile. "Family's not exactly the noble sort either, so it fits."
"What happened to your Gwen?" she asked.
"Yeah, mine neither." He turned back, looking her over again. "My Gwen? She was a good girl. Never should have been in Civil. She had family, but they wouldn't take her. She was fifteen when she came in, and she didn't know how not to be nice." He closed his eyes, and she felt his hand clench into a fist. "Got herself a shot at one of the Academies, wanted to be a doctor or some such. Got herself killed for her slot, because she couldn't keep her mouth shut."
"I'm sorry," Gwen murmured, wondering at the odds. Wondering if he was telling the truth but sure he had to be. She tentatively put her hand over his fist, wishing for any sign that the man she knew was still in there. "Sounds like she was something special."
He shrugged, the movement hampered by the restraints but not vigorous enough to shake off her touch. "She was one of a million; we all were." He blinked, and his pupils shrunk notably, even in the dim light. "When did you get in here?"
"Been here for bit," she said carefully.
"Huh." John looked thoughtful. "I say anything interesting?"
"This and that, talked a bit about your other Gwen," She rubbed her thumb over his fingers. "Glad to have you back for bit. No more running off with strange Time Agents, hey?"
He blinked again, and frowned. "Other Gwen? I don't...Oh, fuck, they gave me something, didn't they?"
" Jack says I shouldn't believe anything you say until its out of your system." Gwen shifted her stance trying to relieve some of the ache in her wounded shoulder from the angle. "Grey's safe, so don't worry about that."
"That's good." He yawned. "Who's Grey?"
"Don't worry about it," she told him after a moment of trying to get her thoughts back together because either he'd slipped back under again or he'd never been lucid to start with. God she wanted her John for a few moments, and she'd thought she'd had him.
John yawned again, and looked away. "How long since the drugs?"
"Six or seven hours I think," Gwen told him moving her hand from his. Jack had warned her about this but...at least it was just her in here, not Grey to be confused and scared by his Da.
"Damn it, no wonder my head feels like it's splitting apart. Worst fucking part of rehab, every time. 'Part of the learning process', it's such bullshit."
"It'll get better," Gwen told him, even though she knew they were talking about two different things now.
John shook his head miserably. "Don't lie to me. The pretty ones always lie to me. Much rather have an ugly truth, just once." He opened his mouth to speak again, and his eyes rolled back as he started to shake.
"John?" she put her hand over his again. She called out for Owen to get his arse in there and do something.
The shaking stopped, and the beeping of the heart monitor normalized just as Owen appeared in the doorway of his own accord. "He all right?"
"I think so now, he was shaking something awful a moment ago," Gwen told him, taking her attention from John to look over at Owen.
Owen nodded, and walked over to the interface beside the bed. "Well, nothing too alarming. All within the range Jack said would occur. He's sleeping now, and with luck he'll stay that way for a bit. I can't give him a sedative, unfortunately."
Gwen chewed on her bottom lip and stroked John's forehead gently. "He didn't even know who I was," Gwen said softly.
Owen circled the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You holding up all right?"
"I'm trying to," she told him honestly. "I was hoping he'd..." she cut herself off and shook her head. "I'm going to stay here for a bit and watch him. It'll at least give Jack time with Grey."
Owen looked uncomfortable for a moment, taking a long moment to choose his words. "Yell if you need anything, Gwen. I understand that Jack things he's a bastard, and I'd have said so too, but after seeing what he's done for you, well, the bloke's good for you, Gwen. Good enough that I'm willing to overlook him shooting me. But we've all been where you are, comes with the job, yeah? So remember to ask for help." He looked away, squeezing her shoulder and heading to the door.
"Thanks Owen, I'll remember that," she told him with a good deal of gratitude in her voice before she turned back to watching John sleep. "I might need that help too if he doesn't forgive me for letting Jack find out," she whispered when Owen was out of the room.
"Is that a pterodactyl?" Jack asked, leaning against the doorframe of the converted cell. Ianto was sitting the floor with Grey playing with a variety of toys Jack was quite sure hadn't been there earlier.
Ianto glanced up as did Grey, whose expression was suddenly full of fear. The stuffed dinosaur was clutched to the child's chest, and he hid behind Ianto.
"It's alright, Grey," Ianto soothed. "That's just Jack. Remember I told you about him? He helped me catch Myfawny."
"Fawny?" Grey asked snuggling the stuffed toy.
Ianto nodded running a hand over the boy's hair. "That's right."
Jack felt like crying and laughing at the same time. He's own son having to be reassured against him. "I'm sorry I scared you earlier, Grey." Jack said softly.
"S'okay," the boy mumbled.
Ianto glanced between them both. "Grey, would it be alright if Jack came and played with us? I'd really like that."
"Ianto, likes Jack?" Grey asked.
Ianto nodded with a slightly wry smile. "I do."
Grey regarded Jack with sharp blue eyes then smiled shyly. "Kay, come play."
Jack joined the two with a profound sense of gratefulness.
Owen shifted and fell off the couch, landing on the cold floor with a painful thunk. He sat up slowly, groaning and cursing couches made for midgets. "Christ."
He sat up, and paused at the unnerving silence from the infirmary. John had been rambling on and off for the last 48 hours, even when he was asleep there had been constant noise. Then it registered - silence. No monitors. Fuck. "John?"
Silence was his only response. "Shit." He staggered to his feet and grabbed his earpiece off the floor as he headed into the dark room. "Jack, I need some help up in the Infirmary. I-"
Gwen had been down in the converted cell with Grey, playing with some toys that Ianto had procured from somewhere. She'd finally gotten him down for a nap, he hadn't slept well and Gwen herself was a bit shaky on just what time it was outside the Hub at that point. She was just leaving when Owen's cut off message came across the comm system. She took off at a run.
By the time Gwen got up there Jack was already there gun drawn, and pointed at John.
Gwen's eyes widened as she took in the scene within the Infirmary. John was backed against the far corner, a scalpel at Owen's throat. Owen had his hands up in an 'I'm harmless' pose, an annoyed expression on his face.
"Put down the scalpel and let him go," Jack was telling John. "You hurt him and it'll be the last thing you do." Jack's voice was hard as stone.
"Jack, stop, let me talk to him," Gwen protested, watching as Jack's eyes flicked towards her.
"Get out of here Gwen, now."
Owen rolled his eyes. "Can we all just chill the fuck out, here?"
Gwen ignored both of them and slowly started walking towards John, her free hand in the hair in a sign of harmlessness. "You need to let Owen go, John," she said softly. She tried reaching out with her mind as untrained as she was, tried to catch hold of the feel of him. "You want a hostage you can take me, it'll be like old times."
"Gwen," Jack growled. "Get back here. He'll kill you or Owen."
John pressed the blade closer to Owen's carotid artery. "That's enough, from everyone." He gestured with his free hand toward Jack. "You can put that lovely piece of antiquated weaponry on the group, nice and slow. Then your wrist-strap."
Gwen paused slightly. "John, please, don't do this." Her shoulder ached and she should have taken pain meds an hour or so ago. "You've got to recognize me." Why couldn't she still feel him?
Behind her Jack slowly lowered his gun and placed it on the ground. He paused as he undid his wrist strap. "I should have left you there to rot."
John glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, keeping most of his attention on Jack. "You should have...You bastard! Leaving me once wasn't enough, was it? You always were the Agency's bitch. Wasn't enough to screw me over and leave me for dead, was it? No, you had to go in for a second round."
"Leaving you? You're the one that did all the running. Didn't even have the decency to tell me that our son was alive and in this century. You planning on using him as leverage? What was the scam this time John?" Jack sneered.
Gwen edged closer to John. She kept trying to mental reach him even though she had not idea if she was even doing anything but beg him to remember her in her own head. "Not helping Jack." She hissed angrily. He had no right to bring up Grey like this.
John's eyes narrowed, and his expression went from annoyed to the kind of hate most often reserved for those they had fought in the war so many years ago. "Don't. You. Dare. You have no right to discuss Grey with me. You left him in Civil, left him to claw his way through the ranks and pray that he was smart enough to get out. And you have the nerve to accuse me of a scam? That's it, we're through talking. I want out of here, I want my weapons, I want my son, and I want to know what the fuck is going on."
"Grey's safe, John," Gwen spoke before Jack could. "I know you don't remember but you got him out of civil. The agency came after you, we rescued you."
Jack snorted. "Don't bother, Gwen, he isn't going to listen to you. I told you, he takes care of himself first and always."
Gwen swallowed around the lump in her throat, she looked at John. "You want out of here, I'll take you --- "
John nodded slowly. "I know you. I..." He frowned, staring at her with a look of intense concentration. "Gwen, I-" He shook his head violently, and Owen flinched as the knife pressed against his throat and drew a small line of blood. "Where's Grey?"
"Just down stairs, I'll take you to him," Gwen promised.
"No you aren't," Jack hissed at Gwen. "He's unstable, Gwen. I don't care how much you love the bastard, but this isn't going to have a happy ending."
Gwen ignored Jack and stepped closer to John. "Just let Owen go. I'll be your hostage, I'll take you to Grey, I'll show you were your wrist band and weapons are."
John nodded slowly. "All right, Gwen. Just you. I want you to walk in slowly, hands where I can see them. I trust you, luv, but him-" He nodded at Jack. "Him I don't trust as far as I can throw his last spaceship."
"And I don't trust you at all," Jack growled. "Gwen, you do this and there is no going back. You'll be out of Torchwood and I will never forgive you for taking Grey from me now..."
Gwen let out an exasperated sigh, and rounded on Jack. "Get over yourself. You want to have a pissing contest, you have it later, when we're all sane and we've all had a good night's sleep. Looked at a clock, Jack? 47 hours. He's not right in the head, you said so yourself! So yes, I will go with him, and we will sort this out, and when I come back tomorrow morning, we will approach this like the adults we are." She turned back to John. "Let go of Owen, we're going home."
"You trust him too much, Gwen," Jack said warily, put didn't repeat any of his threats.
"And you don't trust enough, nor are you willing to listen to an explanation." She didn't bother looking back. "I'm not saying John's a sweetheart, but he's not the devil."
Jack mouthed tightened. "If you don't come back I will come after Grey."
Gwen nodded. "I wouldn't expect any less of you." She stepped within John's reach as she spoke. "We'll be all right, John. Trust me." John allowed her to guide his hand from Owen's neck and take the scalpel. "Now, we're going to let Owen go, because he rather prefers his scars below the collar, and we're going to walk out of here together and pick up Grey. Is that all right?"
John cleared his throat, and blinked as she slipped the scalpel from his grasp. "Gwen, I..."
She closed her hand over his after she placed the scalpel down and squeezed his hand. "It's going to be okay, trust me," she told him again. "Let's go get Grey, he's been missing you."
John took a deep breath, and released Owen completely. Owen shot Gwen a questioning glance, but at her nod he eased away and joined Jack by the doorway.
John gripped her hand, pulling her close and leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Come home with me?"
"Yes," she told him easily. If he never got him memories back completely...she'd deal with it. She guided him out of the room past Owen and Jack. She was aware of Jack's closed expression and wary eyes as they passed. "He's just down here," Gwen assured John as they made their way down to the converted cells.
John stopped her in the stairwell when they reached the floor with the cells. "Gwen..."
Gwen squeezed his hand. "It's okay, John, trust me. Some of the cells have been converted to living spaces, I've been living down here with him" she tried to assure him. "Grey's been asking for you every day while you were out. I'd just settled him down for a nap when you... He might still be asleep."
John shook his head. "That's not what I meant, Gwen. I remember. I started to upstairs, I wanted to thank you for trusting me."
Gwen stopped in her tracks, searching his face. Searching for the 'feel' of him that she'd been missing for days. "You're really back? I...god, I had to trust you. I had to. I didn't save you just to let Jack..."
He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. "I know, luv. I'm so sorry, I must have been careless. I can't, I won't let it happen again."
"You'd better not. I was terrified when I found them in your flat, and then I couldn't even feel you anymore," Gwen told him, curling her good around him. She winced softly when he held her a bit to tightly making her shoulder protest.
"I'm sorry, luv. Basic training. I wanted to keep you safe." He pulled back, and frowned down at her. "What's wrong with your arm?"
"That's what Jack said, it was still...I didn't even know if you were alive for a while." Gwen almost shrugged, but stopped herself. "Oh, I got between you and a bullet." she told him simply.
"Then I guess I owe you my thanks." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But that can wait until later. I want to get a look at Grey, get him home." He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. "Jack's going to have my arse in a sling when tomorrow morning, because there's no way that wanker is going to give me any peace about Grey."
Gwen nodded. "I didn't tell him who Grey was, he knew he was your son, then suddenly he just knew," she assured him. "Jack isn't very pleased with either of us." She squeezed his hand again and showed him to where Grey was sleeping.
The small boy was curled up on the bed with a new stuffed dinosaur that Gwen figured was Ianto's doing.
John looked through the observation panel, and smiled softly at the sleeping boy before triggering the door release. Grey shifted, clutching the toy but not waking. John knelt beside him, and placed a careful hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. "Grey, luv?"
Grey sat up, blinking sleepily. "Da?"
John nodded, and pulled the boy into his arms. "It's me, Grey."
"Home?"
Gwen followed John inside leaning against the wall, watching her boys.
"Yeah, Grey. We're going home."
"I think we're all ready to go home," Gwen agreed, moving closer to run her fingers over Grey's hair. "Told you we'd get him back, baby."
Grey settled against John's shoulder, arms around his neck. "Da?"
"Yes, Grey?"
"Can Ianto come over to play sometime?"
"Ianto played with him and watched him a lot," Gwen told John softly.
John rubbed Grey's back, and took a moment to unclench his jaw before answering. "We'll talk about it in the morning, sweetheart. Right now, Gwen's going to take us home so we can sleep in our own beds." He shot a pointed glance her way. "Isn't that right?"
Gwen nodded in agreement, they could talk about Ianto and Jack --and how that would effect Grey later. "You'll have to drive, John, if you think you're up to it."
John nodded. "Right. I don't suppose..."
"Your car's in the staff car park."
"Brilliant. And how do we get there?"
Gwen laughed, and led the way up where the car was parked. She saw Ianto briefly as they left and felt a pang of guilt for leaving him to deal with Jack. When the reached the building, it seemed to Gwen like weeks since she and Grey had felt the flat. "Glad to have you back if only to carry him," Gwen teased softly as John picked Grey up from the car seat.
John smiled tiredly, not bothering to comment as he followed her into the building. When Grey had been put down, he found her pacing in the lounge. "Gwen, luv, you look about how I feel."
"I keep expecting to wake up and find that you still don't even know who I am," she told him, making an effort to stop pacing. "It's been like a long nightmare."
He closed the distance between them, and placed his hands carefully on her arms, stilling her continued fidgeting. "Let me explain something, luv. This? This was the worst that could happen, and now it's happened. The agency thinks I'm dead, Grey's still alive, I'm still alive. The drugs fucked me up a bit, fucked things up a bit, but it won't last. We've made it to the far side, Gwen."
"You and Grey, safe and alive is all I wanted." She leaned her head against his chest, taking comfort in the rise and fall. "I love you," she told him softly. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I do, John."
He sighed, and allowed his hands to slip down and settle at her waist. "Gwen, the last person I told I loved - the last time it was real, honest, instead of a con - spent the better part of 10 years of my life trying to hurt me anyway he knew how, every chance he got. After that, it became easy to say as a lie, because that's all it ever was. But it's not something I'm ever going to be able to say to you, because I'm not using you. What I can offer you is a place in my life, maybe a life together. Not commitment. Just living."
Gwen gave him a small but sincere smile. "That's enough for me. I don't need words or rings, not with you." She ran her hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder.
"Good thing, luv, or you'd waste your life waiting." He leaned into her touch, and rested his forehead against hers, allowing his eyes to close for just a moment.
Gwen relaxed against him, brushing his neck with her fingers affectionately. The feel of him alive and well, and content helped dissolve some of her tension. "We have more we need to talk about, but it'll keep until morning."
He nodded, but caught her arm as she turned to retreat into the bedroom. "Gwen, I do want you around. I want you in our lives, but it comes with costs. A lot of them. You've given up a lot for me, for Grey, and we're not your responsibility. You don't owe us anything, not anymore. I just want to make that clear before things get any messier than they already are."
Gwen shook her head. "You are my responsibility, both of you, because I love you," she explained to him. "And Jack---Jack's my fault. If I hadn't taken Grey to the hub, Jack wouldn't have remembered anything. But he was my only chance at saving you."
John shrugged, and brushed aside the mention of his ex-husband/lover/partner. "I told you I trust you with Grey, that means I trust you to make the right decisions about his life. Jack was inevitable, in the grand scheme of things."
Gwen tangled her fingers with his. "Let go to bed, John." She was tired enough that even her shoulder wouldn't keep her awake.
He allowed himself to be led with a quiet acceptance. "Spent the last two days in bed. Going to make it worth my while?"
She rolled her eyes and tugged him through the door and into the room. "No, I'm going to sleep, because I have a headache."
He shrugged out of his shirt, and tossed it at the clothes hamper, voice the epitome of the deeply put-upon. "Already? But you've only just agreed to move in!" He shook his head, relieved to see her smile at the humour. "The romance goes so quickly, these days."
She crawled into bed, giggling as he slid in beside her and they quietly settled into familiar positions. He shifted around several times in the process of getting comfortable, and eventually she stilled him by the simple act of resting her head upon his chest. When she spoke, her voice was serious again, though it held none of the anxiety it had earlier. "There's always tomorrow, you know."
He smiled, the expression soft and full of sincerity. "There is at that, luv. There is at that."