Without waiting for a reply, Ben strode over to the alcove and up the stairs to the main bar, ignoring the catcalls of 'Get her!' that followed him. He wasn't angry with Parker and Lockley. They were what they were. He was angry with Drew for always needing to win.
He didn't have to turn round to know that Drew was coming after him, but it was only when he'd left the pub and was striding along the narrow cobbled street in no particular direction other than away that Drew finally called after him.
He turned and stared at the chubby man standing helplessly in the pub doorway.
'What?'
The few metres between them seemed too vast for either to cross, and Drew must have sensed it because he hesitated where he was rather than coming forwards.
'I'm sorry!' he called. 'I really am. I'm an idiot.' His hands fluttered as he spoke. 'I'm sorry.' He repeated the words more softly, as if for the first time he realised just how annoyed Ben was.
'You always are. But it doesn't stop you doing it again.'
'Let's go somewhere else and have a drink. I'll be perfect. I promise.'
Ben looked at the ground rather than at Drew. If he looked into his partner's hangdog expression then he'd only feel guilty about being angry, and that would make him more angry. He sighed. He just needed half an hour on his own.
'Go back to the hotel,' he said finally. 'I'll see you back there in an hour or so.' Turning his back, he strode away.
'Ben!'
Not looking round, Ben raised one arm in a half-hearted wave goodbye and then thrust his hands deep into his pockets, hunching over a little to keep warm. At least the rain had eased to a drizzle, the water a fine mist, teasing his skin. He sped up a little, enjoying the air filling his lungs, the exercise helping shake away the tension that squeezed at his insides.
Eventually the narrow road opened out into a more modern boulevard, large 1930s semi-detached houses uniformly lining one side, and a vast park filling the other. From the glow of the street lamps on the residents' side, he could just make out a children's play area close to the pavement. Smiling, he followed the green iron-railing fence until he reached the small entrance and stepped inside. For a moment, he cautiously peered across the softly sprung area. A see-saw was a mere grey shadow in the gloom, and the swings tilted backwards and forwards slightly on the breeze, the chains creaking like old joints. The roundabout was silently still. There was no one there; no drunks or junkies or kids waiting for some hapless passer-by to pick on or kick in.
He was alone.
The ground mute beneath him, he padded to the swings and sat in the middle of the three, leaving the other two empty to be filled by whatever ghosts of children danced in them in the night. The chains pressed into his hips, but he didn't mind. His knees bending slightly, he pushed himself back and then lifted his legs to let the seat do what it was designed to do.
Drifting backwards and forwards, he stared out into the inky blackness of the park. The gentle motion helped ease the tightness in his shoulders. Shutting his eyes, he let the damp air slide slowly in and out of his lungs, each time the breath lasting for longer than the previous. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. In the invisible darkness a bush rustled.
When his lungs were relaxed, Ben began to sing.
THIRTEEN
Gwen lay in the crumpled mess of her bed, her legs tangled in the warm sheets that Rhys had just vacated, and grinned sleepily. Her thighs tightened as if it were still her husband they were wrapped around. She really was a lucky girl. She couldn't believe it had taken her so long before she'd realised it.
Beside her a cup of coffee was cooling, and from the bathroom she could hear Rhys humming badly as he brushed his teeth. She stifled a giggle. She couldn't even figure out the tune amidst the sound of the tap running and the scrubbing of his toothbrush that were not helping Rhys's general tendency towards being completely tone deaf. There was no need to worry about some alien coming and ripping him open for his vocal cords.
Although the thought had slipped frivolously into her head, her face darkened. She didn't want to think about the deaths of yesterday. It was only seven o'clock. She had an hour before she had to be at the Hub. One more hour of relative normality.
'Hey you!' Rhys paused his tuneless serenade, calling to her through the open bathroom door as the power shower burst into life. 'They keep telling us we're in a recession. How about we save on the water bill and you jump in here with me?'
Kicking back the covers, Gwen laughed. They'd had a pretty good date night, even after everything she'd seen yesterday. The food was brilliant, and everything that came after was pretty fabulous too. Despite the problems they'd had in their relationship when she first started at Torchwood, since they'd been married they'd rarely argued. Maybe part of that was to do with Owen and Tosh's deaths, and when she thought she'd lost Rhys himself. She wasn't going to risk that pain again. She still felt a wave of guilt tingeing her sadness when she thought of Owen and how she'd betrayed Rhys with him. It had been crazy and she wished she'd never done it, but it was all over now. She had to let it go, along with Owen himself.
'Well?' Rhys's throaty, dependable Welsh voice pulled her back from the dark memories of the past.
'I'm just coming.'
Sitting up, she took a gulp of her coffee before pushing the covers back and getting up. Stretching lithely, and feeling very much like the cat that got the cream, she decided there were worse ways to start the day. She'd taken four steps towards the bathroom when her mobile rang, and the metaphorical cream suddenly went off. Only work would be calling her at this time in the morning. In fact, as her time with Torchwood had gone on, it seemed that her mobile only ever rang if it was Rhys asking when she'd be home or Jack, Ianto, Tosh or Owen asking when she'd be getting her butt to the Hub. And now she was left with the fifty-fifty of whether it was Jack or Ianto.
'Hang on. My phone's going!' she shouted, hoping her husband would hear over the shower and his bad singing, as she dived across the bed to answer it. The caller ID showed it was Ianto.
'What's happened?' Before the words were even out of her mouth, she instinctively knew the answer. The alien had claimed another victim in the night. Dammit. Her stomach clenched and the memory of her lovely evening with Rhys was permanently soured. She should have been working. They all should have been.
'Watch the news. Then get to the Hub. Quickly.'
'I'm on my way.'
They hung up simultaneously without any of the niceties that society expected, and, with all thoughts of her shower gone, Gwen flicked the TV on and found the news channel. It was 7.15. Headline time.
'Maria Bruno, who left her natural home of Wales at 17 to find fame singing on all the finest stages of the world, was in Cardiff as part of the judging panel for the televised final of the city's annual Amateur Operatic Contest. At the height of her success in the nineties, Bruno was considered one of the greatest sopranos in the world, regularly performing alongside such greats as the late Luciano Pavarotti.'
Pulling her T-shirt on, Gwen glared at the perfectly coiffed woman on the TV. Why couldn't she just get to the point?
'Her sudden death has come as a great loss to all who knew her and will be felt deeply in the world of opera where she brought so much joy. We hope to speak to one of her fellow judges shortly, but right now we're going over live to the St David's Hotel in Cardiff, where Judy Glover has been since the news broke.'
The newsreader turned in her chair to face the screen behind her, where the familiar sight of Mermaid Quay came into view and a young woman, who was trying desperately to ignore the drizzle trickling down her face, stared seriously into the camera.
'So, Judy,' the newsreader continued from the dry warmth of the studio. 'Are you able to shed any further light on the events surrounding Maria Bruno's death yet?'
Yanking on her jeans, Gwen paused. This was the important bit.
Rhys emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. 'I thought you were comi
ng to join—'
Without glancing at him, Gwen raised a hand to silence him. She needed to hear this. The bedsprings creaked as he sat beside her.
'Yes, I can.' The reporter on location looked grim. 'Obviously the police have yet to release a statement, but a source from inside the hotel has told us that Ms Bruno went to her suite at about nine o'clock last night and had some fruit salad delivered at nine-thirty. Her husband, Martin Meloy, who is also her manager, had a separate suite next door and he remained in the bar of the hotel until approximately half past eleven, when he returned to his own room. Ms Bruno was an early riser and her routine was that her breakfast was delivered to Mr Meloy who would then let himself into her suite and wake her with it.' The reporter paused. 'And it was when he did so that he discovered her body.'
'And do we have any possible details on what might be the cause of her death?'
A sock in one hand, Gwen stared at the TV.
'Well, as you can see from all the cars and vans behind me, there's a lot of police presence at this five-star hotel this morning and, although they have yet to release a statement, sources within the hotel who saw Ms Bruno in her rooms before the police arrived say that it would appear that her death was violent and her body was mutilated. Again, I have to stress that these are unconfirmed reports, but given the sheer quantity of police and forensic vans that are here I would suggest that it seems unlikely that her death was accidental or natural.'
'God.' Gwen's heart sank. Mutilated. It would be too much of a coincidence if this wasn't their alien.
'Are you saying this has something to do with you lot?' Beside her, Rhys's eyes were wide. 'Bloody hell, Gwen, but she's a star.'
Gwen shrugged. 'We all bleed, Rhys. We're all human.'
'Apart from maybe whatever killed her though, eh?' Rhys's voice was soft and Gwen didn't answer. There wasn't any need.
On screen, the newsreader touched her headset. 'I'm going to have to pause you there, Judy. We're just getting reports in that the body of a man has been discovered in the Angel Street park in Cardiff. The unidentified man was found by an early-morning dog walker in the area of the swings in the children's safe play area.' Gwen watched as she visibly flinched. 'The police have closed off the park and are treating the death as suspicious. Early reports suggest that the man had been violently mutilated.'
The repetition of the word made even the hardened journalist pause, and Gwen turned the TV off. She'd heard enough. Pulling her socks on, she stumbled into the hallway to grab her boots.
'I take it you're working late tonight?' Rhys leaned on the wall. She gave him a sad smile.
'Looks like it.'
There was a moment's silence while a thousand things went unsaid between them but were at the same time heard and understood.
Boots on, Gwen reached up and kissed him. 'I love you, Rhys Williams.'
'And I love you too, Gwen Cooper. And you bloody well take care out there.'
She grinned. 'I always do.' It was a lie that she knew he didn't believe but still liked to hear.
Seconds later, the door clicked shut, and Gwen Cooper belonged entirely to Torchwood again.
FOURTEEN
Stepping out of the lift that carried her down into the Hub, the first thing that hit Gwen was the sound of phones ringing. Given how few people were even aware of Torchwood's existence, that wasn't a good sign for the shape of the day ahead.
Not stopping to answer any, she found Ianto standing outside Jack's office. As always when he was frustrated with outside interference, their boss was pacing slightly behind his desk. From where Gwen was standing, it didn't look like Jack was getting much of a word in. She watched his lips.
'Yes, I understand... Yes sir, we're doing all we can...'
'Doesn't look good,' she muttered.
'First Minister for Wales was apparently a big fan.' Ianto didn't say who of. The answer was obvious. It wouldn't be the unnamed man in the park. 'As were several high-powered members of UNIT. We've had calls from both Manhattan and Geneva. They want to know if we've got a problem that we can't handle. Seems like everyone wants answers and fast.'
'What about the other body?'
'He's the same. Cutler's securing that scene now. Clothes and skin were fused as they were cut open. And just like Maria Bruno and the others, the vocal cords were gone.'
Gwen chewed the inside of her mouth. 'But no one would be causing all this fuss just for him or those three other poor sods, would they? How crap is that?'
Ianto shrugged. 'It's the way the world works.'
'Yeah, maybe, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. I want to get this bloody alien for all of them.' Biting her lip, Gwen tried to calm down. Snapping at Ianto was a tell-tale sign that she was getting emotionally involved in a case and, as much as she couldn't stop herself, she didn't want Ianto or Jack to see that it was getting to her.
'We all do, Gwen.' Ianto looked at her sideways. 'You think Jack is affected by celebrity? That he sees one victim as more important than another?'
Gwen stayed silent. Ianto was right. She couldn't blame him for the behaviour of the rest of the world. If anyone was untouched by its shallowness, then that person was Captain Jack Harkness. He'd seen too much. He was too different. Jack was, and she couldn't help but feel a tingle run down her spine, Jack was special.
On the other side of the glass, the subject of their conversation slammed down the receiver and flung open the door.
'Get those phones switched off. Now.' Striding past both Ianto and Gwen, Jack ran his hands through his hair. 'Jesus, I can't even hear myself think. If I have to say "yes sir" or "no sir" one more time today then I swear to God I think I'll shoot myself.'
Gwen glanced back at Jack's office and the old Second World War revolver that lay on his desk. 'So you think adding a headache to your problems will help us sort this mess out, then?'
Jack glared at her. 'Whereas you seem to think humour will?'
Her smile fell. Gwen could see that he was tired and his patience was wearing thin. While she'd been home with Rhys, he'd been here working.
'Sorry.'
He waved her apology away. 'Not your fault. Just too much bureaucracy for this time in the morning.' He took a deep breath and planted his hands on his hips.
Behind them, Ianto flicked a switch and the sound of telephones abruptly ceased. The Hub fell mercifully silent.
Jack finally smiled. 'Thank you.' He leaned against a workstation and let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as they released some tension.
'Have you been working all night?' Gwen asked. Over by the coffee machine, Ianto set the water burbling.
'In the words of the great Lionel Richie, I have indeed been working all night long.' Jack looked up. 'But it was worth it.'
Both Ianto and Gwen stared.
'This isn't the time for a dramatic pause,' Gwen said finally. Her heart was thumping hard. 'What have you found?'
'I think I know who our alien is. Or at least where he comes from.'
Gwen looked over at Ianto and saw her own excitement reflected there. Five people were dead, and they hadn't been able to do anything about it. This was the first time they'd had anything that even resembled a lead.
Jack leaned over the large computer screen next to the Rift monitor. 'Come take a look.'
Ianto and Gwen leaned in on either side of him, and Gwen wondered if Ianto felt the same slight electric charge when his arm brushed against Jack's that she did. Probably. And probably a lot more. After all, their relationship was somewhat more intimate. For a moment her mind drifted, wondering not for the first time, how differently Jack would touch her from how he touched Ianto. Heat crept into her face and, frowning, she forced herself to focus on the screen. This really wasn't the time for that kind of daydream.
'What are we looking at?' she asked.
'This, my friends, is what the furthest corner of the known universe looks like.' Jack hesitated. 'Known to Earth, anyway.'
Beneath
the gridlines marking out coordinates, the screen was filled with swirls of coloured gases and dark spots of various shapes that Gwen could only imagine were planets. Dotted more sporadically were brighter orbs. Suns.
'Isn't it amazing?' Jack's voice had taken on the hint of childish wonder and enthusiasm that Gwen had heard so much less of in recent months. It made her heart glow warm inside her. Her own sun. She looked over at the handsome man and he turned away from the screen for a second and grinned at her. Maybe he was their sun, she thought. And like the planets tugged in by gravity, once they'd been pulled into his orbit there was no real way out. Other than Retcon or death. And neither was a good option.
'So one of these planets is inhabited then?' Ianto asked. 'Which one?'
Jack laughed. 'Jeez, Ianto, all your years in Torchwood and that's the limit of your imagination?' He shook his head. 'There are thousands of planets on that screen, and hundreds of them are inhabited.' He grinned. 'And some of them are pretty good fun to visit.' He nudged the young man beside him. 'You'd love it. Beautiful boys, beautiful girls...' He paused, and shrugged. 'Well, near enough boys and girls. Humanoid at least.'
'Are we getting off the point here?' Standing back a little, Gwen folded her arms across her chest.
'Just giving you the full tour.' Jack's eyes narrowed. 'See here.' He pointed to the top left-hand corner of the flat monitor. This area of space was darker, the stars spread more infrequently and glowing less brightly as if fighting to stay burning against the blackness that threatened to swallow them up. Gwen could just about make out the occasional darker spot within the shadowy surrounds.
'Are those planets?' she asked, pointing one out.
'Uh-huh.' Jack nodded. 'And I think our alien comes from that one.'
He indicated a blur of darkness that was so far to the edge of the screen it was almost out of view.
'It doesn't look much like a planet,' Ianto said. 'Looks like a ball of gas.'