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weaselettOk - so i mentioned previously that I've been working on girl!ianto stuff and that I'd written a fic then abandoned it to go back and try again.
However - since then have been thinking and was wondering if any of you wonderful lot would like to help - so I'm posting said fic (it's missing the previously planned end scenes - but it still works) - to see what people think
Comments on what does/doesn't work, any characterization fails, etc are very very welcome and will be much appreciated.
Fic is set around Torchwood season 1 - mainly ep 1.08 - with some dialogue from episodes included.
Season one – tag and missing scene for everything changes and they keep killing Suzie. (hints from fragments, cyberwoman and greeks bearing gifts.) Dialogue from they keep killing Suzie.
Iona Jones’ first day at Torchwood Cardiff is fairly uneventful. Her new team are too preoccupied with the glove that was dredged from the bay a little over a day ago to really notice her.
Owen Harper, the medic, looks her over with a critical eyes before smiling, obviously mocking her, “Well, I can see why you hired her Jack.” He leers at her before continuing on with his work like she isn’t there. Every so often, he’ll glance her way, though his attention tends to be focused on her legs, rather than anything else. She has some trousers suits somewhere. She’ll have to dig them out when she makes it back to the flat. Though maybe not until after her wounds are fully healed. He’s a medic after all, out of all of them he’s the one she would expect to notice how careful she is when doing certain tasks. If her legs are as good a distraction as they seem to be, she may as well make use of them.
The tech expert, Toshiko Sato, is sweet. She tries, when her minds not occupied by other things, to help Iona get settled in, though Iona feels bad when she lies in answer to one of the other woman’s questions, careful to make out that she knows less about technology than she really does.
It’s the flash of something like loneliness in the other woman’s eyes that eats at Iona’s heart, making her think that maybe, when Lisa’s better, she’ll make an effort to help relieve some of that loneliness.
She’s always been a good listener, or so Lisa and her friends at Canary Wharf had always insisted.
Captain Harkness, Jack, she reminds herself, avoids her for the most part, though she’s not sure if it’s intentional or not. He’s so busy and so few of her duties require her to be in the main Hub that it’s probably coincidence and she’s just getting paranoid, another souvenir from her time at Torchwood One.
The last of the team, Suzie Costello, the second in Command as Jack introduces her, is the one who really helps her out. She gives Iona the grand tour, explaining how everything works and the normal schedules. She’s also the one who answers all of Iona’s questions.
They get along well, though they don’t talk much to begin with. Iona learns Suzie’s preferences first; she doesn’t want to upset the one person in Cardiff who’s so close to being a friend.
*
Her duties are easy enough, she even has time to slip out and see to Lisa during the day whilst on supply runs for the team until, a little over a week into her new job, she takes advantage of one of the few windows big enough for her to smuggle Lisa into the Hub. With that done, she doesn’t have to worry about getting away from work quite as often, something she’s sure Suzie had started to notice.
She watches the others, surprised when she catches Suzie and Owen in a rather inappropriate position in one of the storerooms, though they’re too occupied with each other to notice her. After that she learns everything she can about them all, including which storerooms Owen and Suzie like to frequent, making sure that none of them stumble across anything that might alert them to Lisa’s presence.
She’s been there four weeks when Suzie starts to scare her.
Its little things at first; catching the other woman reading her personnel file, feeling the weight of someone’s gaze on her as she carries out tasks in the main Hub, the strange smiles that she receives when she delivers the third tea of the day.
Then, suddenly Suzie’s talking to her, asking questions about her life, commenting on how young Iona is.
Iona lies, even more than she did in her edited personnel. She tells Suzie that she doesn’t talk to her family, that they never liked that she choose to leave Cardiff for London, that she was always a disappointment.
She says that she’s alone, uninvolved and happy to be. It hurts, the betrayal of Lisa, the very reason that she’s there, but it’s necessary to keep her safe.
Suzie smiles and looks sympathetic, but she avoids Iona’s questions and there’s something else, in her eyes, that makes Iona’s skin crawl.
After that, she tries to avoid the other woman, finding more and more reasons to not be near her. Those eyes, watching her, drive her crazy, but Suzie doesn’t know about Lisa.
She can’t know.
If she did, surely she would have told Jack.
Wouldn’t she?
*
Its early morning, almost two days since Gwen Cooper’s introduction to Torchwood and she’s still in the Hub, using cleaning as an excuse to stay longer than is really necessary; Lisa’s been needing doses of sedative and painkillers more often recently and Jack never seems to leave the Hub, so she’s had no choice but to make up reasons to stay.
Jack calls down to her, twenty minutes after he ran out of his office and to the invisible lift, cursing loudly, asking her to bring some supplies up to the Pass via the invisible lift. She gathers them all quickly, trying not to wonder what he needs them for. If there’s one thing she’s learned during her few weeks working for Jack Harkness, it’s that there are things she’s better off not knowing. What he does out of hours being one of those things.
When she reaches the Pass however, she wishes she had asked. The blood is the first thing she sees and that’s all it takes. Suddenly she’s back at Canary Wharf, the events of that day playing out all over again in her head. People are dying, so many people, she’s never been so aware of just how many people work in the tower. There’s blood, so much blood and people are screaming.
She sees faces she recognises, people she liked, people she cared about. Some are still recognisable, they look like they’re sleeping, but they’re not, she knows they’re not. Then there are the others, the ones like Lisa, who were much less fortunate. There’s blood everywhere in those corridors, still wet and the smells overwhelming. She stumbles on though, ignoring her own injuries, she has to find Lisa.
With a gasp she comes back to herself, still standing on the invisible lift, but she’s shaking now, sweating despite the cold morning air. She swallows hard, desperately hoping that Jack hasn’t seen her weakness. None of them know; she’s made sure of that. As far as they know she was on the periphery of the battle, one of the lucky ones.
Only no one came away from the Battle of Canary Wharf unscathed.
She spots them after a moment, standing off to one side, neither of them showing any sign of having seen her loose it. Jack’s too busy with Gwen, holding her gently, keeping her back to Suzie’s still body and Iona can’t help but sag with relief. Closing her eyes she fights for a long moment to get her breathing under control, turning away from the blood that is still spreading over the cold concrete. She swallows hard, shifting her grip on the supplies in her hands, surprised that she hasn’t dropped anything, before stepping off the paving slab and allowing the critical side of her brain to take charge; figuring out what she needed to do to clean up this new mess.
She lowers the small box of cleaning supplies onto the concrete before carefully shaking out the folded body bag, unzipping it and laying it out next to the body. She straightens again, pulling on her gloves, eying the body for a moment. It would be easiest if she lifted the upper part of the body, but that would mean getting bloodstains on her suit. She sighs, tapping a hand against her thigh idly as she tried to think what she could do, before realisation dawned. There were plenty of spare cleaning rags, all she needs to do was wrap a few around the body’s head and, as long as she is quick, it will prevent any of the blood staining her suit.
Moments later she’s knelt on a cloth on the concrete, away from the remaining blood stain, carefully zipping up the heavy duty body bag. That done she stands again, turning to dig through the cleaning bag to find the special powder that will absorb the blood then dry, ready to be swept up and stored away in one of the special bags until she gets a chance to throw it into the furnace. Once it’s found it’s barely a minute of work to clean up the blood, sweeping it up into a bag with a small brush.
She packs all her supplies back into the box, pulling off the gloves and pushing them into the side compartment before straightening, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She turns towards Jack and Gwen, suddenly uncomfortably aware of their attention.
As she turns to face them she catches sight of something out of place. There, on the paving slab between the invisible lift and the water tower, is a brown looking stain. Only, it isn’t really brown, she knows that without moving any closer. She’d cleaned up more blood in the last few weeks than ever before in her life, she has an intimate knowledge of what it looks like in its various states and more than that, she likes to think she can even tell where the blood has come from, what type of wound has generated the stain. Now though, she hopes she’s wrong, because if not, the conclusion that she had drawn, over a year ago while hunting through the London archives, one that she had believed incorrect, is in fact all too real.
She gives it little more than a glance, turning her attention to Jack and Gwen and schooling her features; she hasn’t seen it, she can’t afford to have seen it.
Gwen, tear tracks staining her face, is openly starring, eyes just a little too wide. She has probably seen what had happened to Suzie, that’s why she seems so shocked, or at least Iona hopes that’s what it is; shock. Freaking Gwen out on the first day won’t make for the most comfortable work relationship.
Jack on the other hand is unreadable as ever, one hand on Gwen’s shoulder, the other tucked behind his back. He meets Iona’s gaze steadily, nodding to her sharply before guiding Gwen onto the lift. Jack meets her gaze again as he positions himself on the slab, fingers already on the control on his wrist, “The knife’s in Suzie’s bag, bring it and the glove to my office once you’re done with the body.”
Iona nods mutely, knowing better than to ask what knife he means; there’s only really one knife he could mean in association with the glove and Suzie. She watches silently as they vanish from view, the replacement slab sliding quietly into place, before she turns to collect Suzie’s bag and to gather what she will need to clean up the second stain. It won’t do to leave any kind of mess, it would only scare the tourists.
*
Iona stumbles into her sad little flat two hours later, sliding down the wall in the hallway next to the door, relief flooding through her.
It’s wrong, this relief, she knows. It’s wrong to be relieved that Suzie’s behaviour had never had anything to do with Lisa but rather it had been her obsession with the glove; an obsession that had driven her to murder innocent people to learn how to control it better.
She must have thought that Iona had noticed something.
It was ironic really, both of them, suspecting the other of knowing their secret and both of them wrong.
Iona closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the wall, laughing, only half aware of the hysterical edge to it. Her secret was safe.
Lisa was safe.
That was all that mattered. She couldn’t bring herself to care about what Suzie had been doing, about the betrayal.
Lisa was everything. She had to be, Iona had already failed her once. She wouldn’t fail her again.
--
Lisa’s been dead two months when the rest of the team leave her alone in the Hub to answer a call from the police. It’s normal now and she doesn’t mind. She savours the time alone, when she doesn’t have to pretend that she isn’t broken.
She hacks into the police database, forwarding on the access to Tosh on the computer in the SUV, She eyes the crime scene photos silently, wondering why the police felt the need to call Torchwood in on them. Normally they go out of their way to keep Torchwood away from a case, why the sudden invitation?
The answer, she decides after a long moment, most likely lies with this new crime scene, which means she won’t get an answer until the others get back, not that she minds all too much. Not being at the crime scene means no chance of having another flashback, even if they are getting less regular now.
*
Tosh fills her in when the team gets back and while Owen prepares for the meeting Iona does some checking of her own, a little scared by what she finds, in the face of the information Tosh gave her.
She’s the last to the boardroom, more because of the insane need she’d felt to check her findings multiple times, despite the fact that she knew they weren’t likely to change. Their computers were rarely wrong, unless the information they had been given was.
Owen’s already started and she has to fight not to blush when her entrance, despite her attempt to be as quiet as possible draws everyone’s attention. Jack gives her a slightly disapproving look and she ducks her head in return, it’s not like she’ll have anything useful to add.
“Is he remembering he’s a serial killer, or is he becoming a serial killer because of the retcon?” Owen continues, as though nothing’s happened.
“Wait a minute,” Gwen’s head snaps back around, “I’ve taken retcon.”
So have most of us, at some point or other, Iona thinks to herself, but Gwen probably doesn’t realise that. She’s never asked either. On the other side of the table Jack exchanges an amused glance with Tosh, “Then you better stay away from sharp objects.” He replies, playfully, before turning seriously again, “Iona, how many people have we given retcon to?”
“Two thousand and eight.” She answers straight away, not bothering to add that that number only includes those they’ve recorded. The number’s higher, she has no doubt about this, but she can’t be exact if she tries to allow for the lack of records. The number she has works for now though.
“Hey, what if they all become psychotic?” Owen jumps in, his apparent excitement making Iona feel rather uncomfortable and if the expression on Tosh’s face was anything to go by, she wasn’t the only one.
“Do you have to sound so happy about it?”
“Yeah but I’m just saying, Mean Streets.” Owen shrugs off Tosh’s comment, still grinning.
Jack frowns at Owen for a moment before turning his attention to Tosh, “Tosh, start narrowing it down to ones that fit Swanson’s profile.” He turns to Gwen, motioning between her and Owen, “You two, there’s got to be a link between the victims, find the link, find the killer.”
Iona frowns, idly wondering what Jack has planned for them to do, especially as she doubts it’s going to involve the backlog of paperwork in his office that she’s reminded him of at least six times this week, She wouldn’t have minded, but he’s started giving out her email instead of his own, which meant she was the one stuck dealing with irate UNIT representatives, among others.
The only problem is, Gwen isn’t moving, “Jack, if there is a link why don’t we just ask the victims ourselves.”
It takes all of Iona’s will power not to flinch, she knows exactly what Gwen’s getting at and she doesn’t like it, not even slightly. They’ve been here before.
“Not the right time for a séance.” Jack answers, as though it’ll be enough to silence Gwen of all people.
“The first time I meet Torchwood, you had that glove.” Gwen continues, as though Jack hadn’t spoken.
Jack laughs dismissively, even as Iona sinks down a little in her chair, silently wishing that she could anywhere but here, “No way.”
“Not after what it did to Suzie.” Owen adds, somewhat bitterly. Iona wonders, for a brief moment, if he’s comparing Gwen with Suzie in his head. That idea makes her wince, not even Owen would do that.
“It brings people back to life, just for two minutes, we could question the murder victims.” Iona bites her lip, wondering if Gwen is even hearing what Jack and Owen are saying.
“That’s exactly what she said.” Owen comments, voice hardening, “She was one of us, we trusted her and now she’s dead because of that thing.” He has a right to bitter about it, Iona reminds herself, he lost a lover to that glove. Suzie betrayed him for it.
“The glove stays in the safe, where it belongs.” Jack supplies, glaring at Gwen. He doesn’t like the reminder any more than Owen and Iona has no doubt that he also hates the idea of losing another member of his team, especially to the glove.
“Yeah, but these murders are happening because of Torchwood, so Torchwood has got to do something.”
Iona winces; trust Gwen to go for the low blow.
*
Of all of them, Gwen seems to be the only one who doesn’t think that this is a bad idea, that they should only really be doing this if it’s the very last resort. If it works, she’s not too sure that Gwen won’t just start suggesting they do it any time dead people start turning up. It’s the easy way, but the hardest at the same time.
Jack tries it first and fails just as badly as before. Owen, thankfully, points out that they all tried it before and it didn’t work for any of them either, interrupted before Jack can make each of them try it again. If she’s honest, she didn’t really try last time, she didn’t want to, the glove gives her the willies, always has. That’s part of the reason she’s always thought of it as the ‘Risen Mitten’, because otherwise she’d just be thinking ‘that damn freaky glove’ and of all of the potential, both good and bad, that it represents.
Gwen surprises her with how much of a natural she is, using the glove, though she thinks it might have something to do with how much blame Gwen seems to lay on herself whenever someone dies. Given a means to bring them back, even for the meagre amount of time the glove allows, Iona isn’t really surprised that Gwen jumps at the chance. In fact, she half expects to find, one day, when Jack’s out brooding, that Gwen’s been using the glove to bring the people whose deaths she feels responsible for back to life, just so she can apologise.
She’s watching her stopwatch more than she is Gwen and the others, she’s found a kind of acceptance now, where death is concerned, since Lisa, to the point that she doesn’t really want to think about what they’re doing now. It’s a kind of torture really, or at least it seems that way to her, dragging the dead back to the world of the living just to demand answers from them. She doesn’t know what’s there, on the other side of it all and she doesn’t want to. There are things that even she doesn’t need to know; things that a person is better off not knowing until the time comes for them to learn the answer for themselves.
“Suzie.” It’s the first thing any of them have said that has really penetrated and it’s the one thing she hadn’t expected, or wanted to hear. She manages, somehow, not to press the button on the stopwatch until Owen’s machines emit the ominous noise that signals the end of another session, but it’s a near thing.
“One minute, five seconds.” She half mutters, starring numbly at the corpse on the autopsy table, dread settling in the bottom of her stomach.
“Jack, did I hear that right?” Tosh calls from the other room, something close to horror in her voice, a feeling that Iona can relate to. Suzie had murdered three people in the name of research while she was a live, none of them needed to hear that she might somehow be involved with these new cases.
“Could be anyone.” Owen argues, a little too quickly, but Iona isn’t surprised, for all that Owen goes on about how Suzie had betrayed them, she was still in his bed. Owen felt something for her, not love, that much Iona knows, but something. “There must be lots of women called Suzie.”
“Not connected to this case.” Jack replies, with an edge to his voice. Gwen remains silent, cradling the hand that’s been in the glove to her chest, standing there pale and shaking. That’s the glove Iona thinks absently, it has to take something to give something, otherwise where does it get the power from? Iona shudders faintly, ducking her head to examine the stopwatch in her hands. She isn’t going to think about it; nor does she like what she knows Jack is going to say next. “We’ve been talking to the wrong corpse.”
*
They spend more time finding evidence to connect Suzie to the murder victims then they did arguing against using the glove. That seems wrong somehow, but Iona doesn’t think it’s really her place to question, so she just does what she can to help the others, providing coffee and accompanying Tosh back to the most recent victims’ house. It’s a relief that the bodies aren’t there, every now again she still suffers from flashbacks, though now she sees the cannibals more often than she sees Canary Wharf.
It’s funny, listening to Tosh’s disgusted mutterings about how backwards some people are, she doesn’t point out that she knows a number of people who still aren’t on the internet, who prefer the more reliable pen and paper over computers. Then there’s Owen and his avoidance, she doesn’t see the point, doesn’t see why he feels the need to hide his relationship with Suzie from Gwen. It seems unfair; Gwen deserves to know that she isn’t the first person from work that Owen’s taken home for more than a cup of tea and a hug. But like with everything else, it isn’t Iona’s place to say.
She stays behind again, when the others go to the lock up. She’s been there before, she did a lot of the packing and she knows what they’re going to find, but knows that they need to see it for themselves. She hadn’t even realised that she should have recognised what the man was talking about until she’d seen the posters again. She hadn’t read it when she’d been packing up Suzie’s things, the very idea of doing so seeming like a betrayal, even though a part of her had reminded her that it would just be returning the favour.
Standing in the autopsy room with the others, she avoids looking at the body laid out on the table. She doesn’t want to, wishes that she could flee, just run as far away as possible, but she can’t; she has a responsibility. A duty.
She hates Gwen’s naivety as she stands there, glove on hand, demanding answers from Jack. Gwen knows what they do with all of the people and aliens that pass through, why does she think she’ll be any different when her time comes? What makes her so adverse to it for her, with all she’s done, versus the innocent people who’ve died because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, whose bodies she’s watched Iona and Jack take wheel away towards the cold store?
She can’t help but watch Jack’s reaction though. None of them ever really challenge him over these things, they all have their reasons for that but sometimes she thinks he needs them to. They aren’t the only ones who have doubts, who need to say something out loud as a reminder of why.
“You got your stopwatch?” Owen questions briskly and she looks away from Jack quickly, snapping her well kept mask back into place.
She holds up her stopwatch, smiling faintly at Owen, “Always.”
“I’ll record from my station,” Tosh says suddenly, clearly unable to stand the idea of staying in the room any longer, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to look her in the eye.” All of them but Gwen watch Tosh leave with a mixture of empathy and annoyance. Iona can see Gwen gritting her teeth out of the corner of her eye and she thinks she understands how Gwen’s feeling. Gwen may have never really known Suzie, but she’d been the one that Suzie had threatened to kill, who she would have killed if it hadn’t been for Jack. If she was Gwen, she wouldn’t want to be in the room either, let alone be the one brining Suzie back.
“Sorry.” Tosh mutters again as she rushes up the stairs, not meeting anyone’s eyes, all too aware of their eyes following her.
“Anyone else?” Iona looks across at Jack for a split second before ducking her head once more. She wants to take Jack up on his offer; almost gives in to what her brain has been telling her to do ever since Jack unzipped the white body bag, but she doesn’t. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Owen grit his teeth, focusing on his monitors. He doesn’t want to be here either, but she knows as well as she does that leaving isn’t really an option.
“Any advice?” Gwen questions, looking up at Jack, “Yeah I know, empathy,” She provides before Jack can, making it clear that she wanted something else, “even though she did try to kill me.”
“You and me both.” Jack comments and Iona can’t help but flinch slightly. He isn’t lying, not really, but it still feels like a lie to her, the truth of what happened that night a heavy weight that none of them know she’s carrying.
Iona focuses on her stopwatch, on the reason she’s still in the room, silently willing Gwen to just get on with it. There’s a long moment, then Gwen moves, placing the glove against Suzie’s head and closing her ryes. She gasps, breathing speeding up and Owen’s monitors start to beep, Iona doesn’t press the button on the stopwatch though, this doesn’t seem the same as the last two times Gwen did this.
“I’m getting a reading,” Owen comments, a slight edge of desperation in his voice, “Uh, no, it’s gone.” Owen visibly deflates, shaking his head and lowering the hand he’d been using to track the readings on the screen.
Gwen gasps again and Iona looks up, worried, watching silently as Jack reached out to Gwen, tucking her hair back behind her ear gently and resting his hand against her cheek; grounding her. After a moment Gwen pulls away slightly, shaking her head, “Just, memories, nothing living. She’s too far gone.”
“What do we do now?” Tosh calls from the other room, managing to sound concerned while projecting her vice so they can hear her.
“Nothing we can do.” Jack answers, starring done at Suzie’s still body, “That’s it, we’re out of options.”
“There’s always the knife,” Owen suggests quietly, “when she killed all those people, she always used that knife. It’s made out of the same metal as the glove.”
“We’ve seen it before,” Tosh agrees, “metallic resonance, like the glove works better if the knife is part of the process, like closing a circuit.”
Iona winces, if they’re going to follow this line of reasoning, she can see what they’re going to have to do and it isn’t a particularly pretty thought.
“The lets use it.” Gwen jumps on the idea and Iona can’t help but wonder how much of Gwen’s determination is a result of using the glove and how much is actually Gwen.
“Small detail, the knife was used to kill people. She’s all ready dead.” Jack argues, seemingly determined to ignore what the others are actually saying.
“So we kill her again.” Gwen replies, sounding as worn as she looks. This Iona thinks, is probably going to end badly, but then, what doesn’t when Torchwood’s involved.
*
Less than fifteen minutes later they’re back in the autopsy room, only this time they’ve got the ‘Life Knife’. It’s not the best name she could have thought of for it, Iona allows, but she like the irony.
She watches as Jack slices Suzie’s arm, putting off the inevitable. She understand why he feels that he has to at least try something small, but at the same time, her brain’s too concerned with getting this over with as soon as possible.
“Anything?” Jack questions, though he already knows the answer.
“No, just a short of spark then it was gone.” Gwen answers, head still bent over Suzie’s, eyes closed, focusing on the glove. “I’m sorry Jack, you’re going to have to do it properly.” Gwen looks up at Jack after a moment, expectant.
Jack hesitates, looking to Owen for some argument against what Gwen’s asking him to do, but Owen just shrugs before turning back to his monitors. Jack sighs, giving the knife a disgusted look shaking his head, before finally giving in. “What the hell.” Jack mutters, rising the knife and plunging it into Suzie’s chest.
The effect’s instant, one moment Suzie’s body’s perfectly still and very dead, the next she’s babbling, not really paying any attention to Jack as he tries to calm her. She stops after a few moments, starring up at Jack, confused, “Wait a minute, didn’t I kill you?”
Iona bites her bottom lip hard, ignoring the baffled look Owen throws Jack and Jack’s dismissal. They really should have been expecting that, after all, Suzie isn’t likely to have forgotten doing that, not under the circumstances.
“Who’s using the glove?” Suzie demands, ignoring Jack’s questions.
“I’m sorry.” Gwen whispers, not looking at Suzie and Iona refocused on the stopwatch in her hands.
“Oh no, Gwen bloody Cooper.” Suzie curses, there’s something else there, in her voice but Iona ignores it.
“Thirty seconds.” They need answers, now, before their time runs out.
“When you were in Pilgrim, you gave the amnesia pill to a man, Max, do you remember?”
“You brought me all the way back, just for Max.” Iona can understand Suzie’s anger, but she seems too focused, more so than anyone they’re ever brought back before. That terrifies her.
“We need to find him, where is he? What’s his surname?” Jack’s getting frustrated, but Suzie doesn’t care.
“He was just, some loser.” Suzie spits, still so angry.
“Yeah, we’re losing her.” Owen comments, fingers tracking the readings.
“Stay here damn you.” Gwen yells, almost screams and that determination makes Iona’s stomach bottom out. This really isn’t good. Even at her most determined, Suzie hadn’t ever tried to force the glove like Gwen seems to be now.
“Don’t force it Gwen.” Jack orders her, not seeming to realise she’s beyond hearing him.
“You’re not getting away this time, stay here….No!” The glove throws Gwen back from Suzie’s now still body and Jack and Owen rush to her side while Iona remains where she is, starring, horrified at the monitors. Suzie’s still alive. The glove isn’t touching her, it’s not even still on Gwen’s hand, Jack’s seen to that, but she’s still alive. Suzie’s still here.
“It’s the glove, I told you, they get hooked!” Jack’s yelling again.
“Alright, don’t make a fuss,” Owen replies, as though he talking to a child, cradling Gwen in his arms, “it’s over now.”
Not good. Not good at all. Iona fights back her panic, she needs to tell the others, needs to make them aware of just how bad this situation is getting, “Umm, excuse me, I’m still counting.”
Owen looks up, irritated, “There’s not much point, Suzie’s dead.”
Iona has to fight to keep from yelling at him, “No, according to your equipment, she’s just unconscious.”
Owen and Jack exchange a look over Gwen’s head, “What the hell’s going on?” Jack demands.
Owen hauls himself upright, hurrying back across the room, leaning over to examine the monitors, “My God, she’s right, she’s alive. Suzie’s still alive.” Owen’s voice rises as he continues, “Look at her, she’s bloody breathing!”
“She can’t be.” Jack denies, standing and moving to Suzie’s side, yanking the knife from her chest.
“No,” Owen shakes his head, “still breathing, no stopping her, she won’t die.” He’s starring at her, clearly unnerved.
“One minute, thirty seconds…and counting.” Iona comments, because there’s nothing else to say. Not really, besides screaming and running in terror, which isn’t really an option.
*
She runs, as soon as they’re all occupied with Suzie, with the fact that she’s still alive. Suzie, with the hole in her head, breathing; it’s unnatural. Wrong on so many levels Iona’s not sure she wants to consider right now.
Suzie had scared her before, now she’s terrified, of what they’ve done, of what Suzie is; of what it all means.
She can’t stay away long though, she’s in no fit state to work in the archives, but she tries her hardest to resist the morbid curiosity that grips her stronger than the fear, for now. She hides in the kitchenette while Owen joins Tosh at her computer, watching the screen as Gwen and Jack talk to Suzie.
It’s not really a surprise when Suzie doesn’t even mention her, when none of the others think to mention her, but she feels a flash of anger none the less. Of all of them when she’d been alive, it had been Suzie who had paid the most attention to her, asking so many questions, making sure that she knew what she had to do, including her. It hurts, to be left out, even if hearing her own name come out of the mouth of a murderer, the walking undead, would have made her feel violated.
Suzie’s voice as she continues and the words that she speaks, give Iona the chills. There’s something not right with this, something beyond the fact that Suzie shouldn’t be speaking. Something bad is coming, she doesn’t know what, but she thinks Suzie knows; she thinks Suzie might be responsible.
It’s silly though, Suzie’s been dead three months, she can’t be responsible, not really, None of them have ever been given any reason to think that retcon might have a harmful effect, or at least, not this type of harmful effect. It should be more random Iona thinks, these killings, if it’s because of the retcon, but maybe it more than that. Maybe he’s killing people he associates with the cause of his madness; maybe she’s over thinking the whole situation, trying too hard to make it make sense.
She continues to listen, cleaning the surfaces and the coffee maker to give her hands something to do. It seems too easy in the end though, Suzie was always so stubborn, but she gives in so easily in the end, gives them the answers they need. At the same time, it’s Jack demanding answers and there’s something about him, something that even Suzie couldn’t always resist.
None of it makes Iona feel any better though, if anything, it’s starting to feel even more like there’s a storm coming. Especially when she hears the name of the bar, why is it always wolves?
*
She walks into the conference room just as Owen starts to examine the recordings, running them through the medical monitors. She there when he gets to Suzie, when he swears and she sees it, clear as day, the reason she’s been feeling so uneasy about of all this.
She stands there, stunned, starring numbly at the screen as Owen calls Jack in and shows him the recordings, her brain still struggling to cope. As Owen explains what they’re seeing to Tosh and Jack she finally manages to fight back the horror, glancing towards Jack, away from the screen.
“There’s always a price.” Jack echoes the words that Iona’s been thinking, over and over, since seeing the video the first time. The same thing she’d thought before, watching how bringing the victims back had affected Gwen, but that she’d been denying since. Not once had she even let herself consider this a possibility. She’s likes Gwen, even if the other woman has moments of almost blinding naivety, she likes what Gwen’s presence has brought. More than that, she knows that Gwen doesn’t deserve this. “The wearer of the glove can bring someone back, but they loose their own life in return.” Jack finishes, frowning at the screen as the video loops.
“How do we stop it?” Tosh asks the same question as Iona would have, if she could, if she wasn’t still fighting against the panic that’s been building in her stomach.
“We’ve got to kill her, Suzie’s got to die.” There’s no emotion, it’s as though Jack doesn’t care, but then again, maybe he doesn’t.
“Again?” Tosh blurts, eyes wide.
“Who’s going to do it?” Owen’s calm, calmer than he really has any right to be.
“Like you said, I’m the boss.” Jack pulls his gun from it’s holster, not even hesitating as he heads out of the room. Iona stays behind, not even bothering to try and convince her legs to take her weight, watching as the others follow. She needs some space to deal with her epiphany, the reasons for the dread, panic and fear.
They’ll fix this; she knows they will, with or without her.
They have to, for Gwen’s sake.
*
She gets herself under control quickly, shutting off the video that Owen’s left running and heading downstairs, mentally listing everything she might need to clear up after the others. She’s done it once before, she can do it again; however times she might need to.
She’s in one of the supply cupboards when the lights go out. It takes her longer because of the darkness, but she manages to find one of the torches she has stashed around for just this situation. The only time the lights in the Hub go out is when someone, typically Jack, initiates a lockdown. He must have decided to make sure that Suzie can’t escape.
She abandons her supplies, heading back towards the central area. Protocol demands that she be with the others for the duration of the lockdown, if possible, unless otherwise ordered by her boss.
“Iona. Iona!” Jack’s bellow echoes in the open space and she winces. Jack yelling is never good.
“Captain.” She called out as she crossed the gangway under the water tower, not surprised when he ran across to meet her.
“What happened?”
She blinked, baffled, “But I thought you must have done it, we’ve gone into lockdown.”
“Then reverse it.”
Iona gritted her teeth, sometimes she really couldn’t understand why anyone had thought that Jack Harkness was the best choice for leadership, to say he occasionally lacked real awareness was an understatement, “I can’t, it’s one hundred percent, the doors are sealed…we’re locked in.”
He growled, glaring at her for a moment before shaking his head, “Come on, there’s got to be a way.”
Iona sighed, mentally adding ‘locking us all in’ to the list of things that Suzie had to have planned at some point, living or dead as she obediently followed. She could only hope that the Captain had some idea of how to undo this, even if he did seem to think she’d have a better idea of how to accomplish such a thing.
*
While Owen and Jack left to check on their prisoner and Tosh tried to get the computers to respond, Iona set her mind to the communications issue. With all of the technology they had, you’d think there would be some way to get at least a message out.
Chewing on her bottom lip she turned, letting her gaze wander around the main cavern, looking for anything she might be able to use, something to prompt some kind of idea. The computers weren’t working, the phone signals were being blocked, all the doors sealed, no way to get outside….
Iona froze, starring at the water tower for a long moment, following it up until it vanished into the roof. She allowed herself a small smile, it could work, might not but it was worth a try. She turned to Tosh, only to find the other woman still bent over the computers, muttering, it was probably best to leave Tosh to her work she decided.
Grabbing one of the phone handsets Iona jogged back across to the water tower, searching around inside until she found a bundle of wires that she use and then setting to work. If it worked she’d tell the others, if not, they’d be none the wiser. At least that way she didn’t risk receiving any icy commentary about her usefulness from Owen, or worse still, Jack’s reassurances that she’d done her best.
It took a good few minutes of rather delicate manipulation, figuring out how to get around the blocks that were a part of the lockdown system, convincing the phone to rely instead on what she was providing it, but she managed it. She dialled a number quickly, checking, making sure that she wasn’t assuming. She grinned, hanging up as the person on duty at the team’s favourite takeaway picked up. “I’ve got reception sir!”
“How’d you do that? We’re sealed off.” It was so nice to know they still underestimated her so much.
“Just used the water tower as a relay.” She answered, careful to make it sound as though it should have been obvious and was a simple enough thing to do. She held the handset out to him silently, fighting a blush when he grinned at her, grabbing the handset and running back up to the others, luckily she’s expected him to do that and had allowed for it in the length of the cables. It would have been just perfect if he’d undone all of her work because he felt the need to stand next to Tosh’s work station to make a call. She’d leave it to him to figure out who the hell they could get to help them.
“Nice work Iona.” He called back, nodding to her and Iona curtsied, knowing that much of the action would be hidden by the shadows. One of these days they would stop making it sound so amazing that she was good for something other than housework and looking pretty.
*
By the time Owen and Jack get back with Gwen and the body, Iona’s finished clearing up what’s left of the glove and the knife is stored safely away in the safe in Jack’s office. She’s left the remains of the glove in a small bag in her work area, unsure of what Jack wants done with it. She would have thrown it in the incinerator, but it’s not her decision to make.
She meets them in the garage, stepping forward to help ease Gwen out of the back seat, offering the other woman a reassuring smile. She steps back after a moment, hands clasped in front of her, watching silently as Owen guides Gwen down into the Hub, once their gone to turns her attention to Jack, “I’ll see to the body sir.” She waves a hand at the gurney she’s brought with her, hoping it will silence any objects he might have.
He still hesitates, gaze flicking for her to SUV to the door that Gwen and Owen have just vanished through and back. “I should…”
Iona shakes her head, taking a step closer to him, meeting his gaze steadily, “I’ll see to the body.” She repeats, purposefully leaving the sir off the end of the statement. He blinks, thrown for a moment before he folds, shoulders slumping slightly.
“Okay.” He allows before starting towards the door, he stills part way there, turning to look back at her for a moment, “I’ll meet you in cold storage in fifteen.” He nods again before hurrying out.
Once she’s sure he’s gone Iona allows herself to relax a little, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before moving to the SUV’s boot and the body hidden within. She needs to do this herself, needs to reassure herself it’s over, even if her brain keeps reminding her that once a thing’s happened once, there’s nothing to stop it happening again.
*
Her hands are shaking as she fills out the forms; forms she’s already filled out once before. She’s standing alongside the open drawer, Suzie’s body laid out in front of her, body bag still unzipped, there’s still no sign of breathing, no heartbeat.
Under different circumstances she wouldn’t be here, the body would already be sealed away and she’d be doing the paperwork sat at her desk, but she needs this; this constant reassurance that it’s over.
She looks up from her clipboard as she hears Jack coming, his footsteps echoing, schooling her features, refusing to let her emotions show.
“Thanks for doing this.” He smiles at her, hands hidden in his trouser pockets, standing with Suzie’s body between them.
“Part of my job sir.” She replies, dropping her gaze back to the forms that are still only half filled out.
“No,” He corrects her, obviously annoyed with himself, “I should be doing it, but….” He stops turning to put his back against the closed drawers, shaking his head and her heart goes out to him. He cares about them all, even after they betray him, she knows that, is an example of it, but she doubts any of the others really notice. She’s privileged, lucky to be the one who gets to see him like this, even if she still doesn’t understand why he lets her. He sighs heavily, eyes darting around the room, “One day we’re going to run out of space.”
She hesitates for a long moment, watching him while pretending to still be focused on the paperwork that she really should be filling out, considering her options. More than anything she just wants to feel alive again and, if she’s reading him right, he’s in need of the same. She swallows, licking her lips before squaring her shoulders and looking up at him, “If you’re interested, I’ve still got that stopwatch.” She comments, making it sound idle.
He frowns, glancing at her, shaking his head slightly and she fights the urge to laugh. Of all the people to not understand what she’s getting at. “So?”
“Well, think about it, lots of things you can do with a stopwatch.” She tries again, making sure to arch an eyebrow suggestively, shifting her weight a little.
“Oh yeah.” He grins, eyes loosing their focus a little as the light comes on in his head, “I can think of a few.”
She smiles, just a little, “There’s quite a list.”
“I’ll send the others home early,” He’s grinning, obviously already planning what he going to do to her once the others are gone, he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I’ll see you in my office in ten…”
She smiles, pulling the stopwatch out of her suit Jacket pocket and holding it up, “That’s ten minutes,” She presses the button with an exaggerated movement, “and counting.”
She has to bite back the urge to laugh at the speed he makes for the door, he really shouldn’t be quite this easy, moving around to where he was standing previously, determined to finish her work before followed. She glances down at the form and curses herself quietly, she should have asked him before, there are rules about mixing work and sex, damnit, “Oh, Jack,” he freezes in the doorway, turning back to her, raising an eyebrow, “what do you want me to say on the death certificate.”
“Good question.” The smile fades from his face and she searches for some way to make the conversation lighter. She really should have asked before propositioning him.
“She had quite a few deaths in the end.”
He nods faintly, his mind clearly elsewhere, “I don’t know,” He stops for a moment before he seems to come to a decision, his voice never wavering as he continues, “Death by Torchwood.”
She nods faintly, swallowing against the slight lump his answer has raised in her throat, “I’ll put a lock on the door,” she motions with her pen, keeping her voice light, “just in case she goes walking again.”
“Nah, no chance of that, the resurrection days are over, thank god.” He replies smiling and suddenly she can’t stop herself, even though she knows she should. She really should.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. That’s the thing about gloves sir, they come in pairs.” She kicks herself mentally, but it’s said now, she can’t take it back. She ducks her head as soon as he turns back to face her, writing frantically, trying to ignore the disappointment she’d sure is there in is gaze. She swallows hard once she’s sure he’s gone, sagging slightly, gaze drifting back to Suzie’s body, the bag still open.
She drops the clipboards onto Suzie’s covered chest and pulls the zip closed angrily, she refuses to let this get to her any more. It’s over, it’s done, she isn’t going to be scared of could have beens. Suzie Costello is not going to beat her, from beyond the grave or otherwise.
She picks up the clipboard again, quickly finishing the forms before sliding the drawer in and slamming the door with a satisfying click.
--
However - since then have been thinking and was wondering if any of you wonderful lot would like to help - so I'm posting said fic (it's missing the previously planned end scenes - but it still works) - to see what people think
Comments on what does/doesn't work, any characterization fails, etc are very very welcome and will be much appreciated.
Fic is set around Torchwood season 1 - mainly ep 1.08 - with some dialogue from episodes included.
Season one – tag and missing scene for everything changes and they keep killing Suzie. (hints from fragments, cyberwoman and greeks bearing gifts.) Dialogue from they keep killing Suzie.
Iona Jones’ first day at Torchwood Cardiff is fairly uneventful. Her new team are too preoccupied with the glove that was dredged from the bay a little over a day ago to really notice her.
Owen Harper, the medic, looks her over with a critical eyes before smiling, obviously mocking her, “Well, I can see why you hired her Jack.” He leers at her before continuing on with his work like she isn’t there. Every so often, he’ll glance her way, though his attention tends to be focused on her legs, rather than anything else. She has some trousers suits somewhere. She’ll have to dig them out when she makes it back to the flat. Though maybe not until after her wounds are fully healed. He’s a medic after all, out of all of them he’s the one she would expect to notice how careful she is when doing certain tasks. If her legs are as good a distraction as they seem to be, she may as well make use of them.
The tech expert, Toshiko Sato, is sweet. She tries, when her minds not occupied by other things, to help Iona get settled in, though Iona feels bad when she lies in answer to one of the other woman’s questions, careful to make out that she knows less about technology than she really does.
It’s the flash of something like loneliness in the other woman’s eyes that eats at Iona’s heart, making her think that maybe, when Lisa’s better, she’ll make an effort to help relieve some of that loneliness.
She’s always been a good listener, or so Lisa and her friends at Canary Wharf had always insisted.
Captain Harkness, Jack, she reminds herself, avoids her for the most part, though she’s not sure if it’s intentional or not. He’s so busy and so few of her duties require her to be in the main Hub that it’s probably coincidence and she’s just getting paranoid, another souvenir from her time at Torchwood One.
The last of the team, Suzie Costello, the second in Command as Jack introduces her, is the one who really helps her out. She gives Iona the grand tour, explaining how everything works and the normal schedules. She’s also the one who answers all of Iona’s questions.
They get along well, though they don’t talk much to begin with. Iona learns Suzie’s preferences first; she doesn’t want to upset the one person in Cardiff who’s so close to being a friend.
*
Her duties are easy enough, she even has time to slip out and see to Lisa during the day whilst on supply runs for the team until, a little over a week into her new job, she takes advantage of one of the few windows big enough for her to smuggle Lisa into the Hub. With that done, she doesn’t have to worry about getting away from work quite as often, something she’s sure Suzie had started to notice.
She watches the others, surprised when she catches Suzie and Owen in a rather inappropriate position in one of the storerooms, though they’re too occupied with each other to notice her. After that she learns everything she can about them all, including which storerooms Owen and Suzie like to frequent, making sure that none of them stumble across anything that might alert them to Lisa’s presence.
She’s been there four weeks when Suzie starts to scare her.
Its little things at first; catching the other woman reading her personnel file, feeling the weight of someone’s gaze on her as she carries out tasks in the main Hub, the strange smiles that she receives when she delivers the third tea of the day.
Then, suddenly Suzie’s talking to her, asking questions about her life, commenting on how young Iona is.
Iona lies, even more than she did in her edited personnel. She tells Suzie that she doesn’t talk to her family, that they never liked that she choose to leave Cardiff for London, that she was always a disappointment.
She says that she’s alone, uninvolved and happy to be. It hurts, the betrayal of Lisa, the very reason that she’s there, but it’s necessary to keep her safe.
Suzie smiles and looks sympathetic, but she avoids Iona’s questions and there’s something else, in her eyes, that makes Iona’s skin crawl.
After that, she tries to avoid the other woman, finding more and more reasons to not be near her. Those eyes, watching her, drive her crazy, but Suzie doesn’t know about Lisa.
She can’t know.
If she did, surely she would have told Jack.
Wouldn’t she?
*
Its early morning, almost two days since Gwen Cooper’s introduction to Torchwood and she’s still in the Hub, using cleaning as an excuse to stay longer than is really necessary; Lisa’s been needing doses of sedative and painkillers more often recently and Jack never seems to leave the Hub, so she’s had no choice but to make up reasons to stay.
Jack calls down to her, twenty minutes after he ran out of his office and to the invisible lift, cursing loudly, asking her to bring some supplies up to the Pass via the invisible lift. She gathers them all quickly, trying not to wonder what he needs them for. If there’s one thing she’s learned during her few weeks working for Jack Harkness, it’s that there are things she’s better off not knowing. What he does out of hours being one of those things.
When she reaches the Pass however, she wishes she had asked. The blood is the first thing she sees and that’s all it takes. Suddenly she’s back at Canary Wharf, the events of that day playing out all over again in her head. People are dying, so many people, she’s never been so aware of just how many people work in the tower. There’s blood, so much blood and people are screaming.
She sees faces she recognises, people she liked, people she cared about. Some are still recognisable, they look like they’re sleeping, but they’re not, she knows they’re not. Then there are the others, the ones like Lisa, who were much less fortunate. There’s blood everywhere in those corridors, still wet and the smells overwhelming. She stumbles on though, ignoring her own injuries, she has to find Lisa.
With a gasp she comes back to herself, still standing on the invisible lift, but she’s shaking now, sweating despite the cold morning air. She swallows hard, desperately hoping that Jack hasn’t seen her weakness. None of them know; she’s made sure of that. As far as they know she was on the periphery of the battle, one of the lucky ones.
Only no one came away from the Battle of Canary Wharf unscathed.
She spots them after a moment, standing off to one side, neither of them showing any sign of having seen her loose it. Jack’s too busy with Gwen, holding her gently, keeping her back to Suzie’s still body and Iona can’t help but sag with relief. Closing her eyes she fights for a long moment to get her breathing under control, turning away from the blood that is still spreading over the cold concrete. She swallows hard, shifting her grip on the supplies in her hands, surprised that she hasn’t dropped anything, before stepping off the paving slab and allowing the critical side of her brain to take charge; figuring out what she needed to do to clean up this new mess.
She lowers the small box of cleaning supplies onto the concrete before carefully shaking out the folded body bag, unzipping it and laying it out next to the body. She straightens again, pulling on her gloves, eying the body for a moment. It would be easiest if she lifted the upper part of the body, but that would mean getting bloodstains on her suit. She sighs, tapping a hand against her thigh idly as she tried to think what she could do, before realisation dawned. There were plenty of spare cleaning rags, all she needs to do was wrap a few around the body’s head and, as long as she is quick, it will prevent any of the blood staining her suit.
Moments later she’s knelt on a cloth on the concrete, away from the remaining blood stain, carefully zipping up the heavy duty body bag. That done she stands again, turning to dig through the cleaning bag to find the special powder that will absorb the blood then dry, ready to be swept up and stored away in one of the special bags until she gets a chance to throw it into the furnace. Once it’s found it’s barely a minute of work to clean up the blood, sweeping it up into a bag with a small brush.
She packs all her supplies back into the box, pulling off the gloves and pushing them into the side compartment before straightening, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She turns towards Jack and Gwen, suddenly uncomfortably aware of their attention.
As she turns to face them she catches sight of something out of place. There, on the paving slab between the invisible lift and the water tower, is a brown looking stain. Only, it isn’t really brown, she knows that without moving any closer. She’d cleaned up more blood in the last few weeks than ever before in her life, she has an intimate knowledge of what it looks like in its various states and more than that, she likes to think she can even tell where the blood has come from, what type of wound has generated the stain. Now though, she hopes she’s wrong, because if not, the conclusion that she had drawn, over a year ago while hunting through the London archives, one that she had believed incorrect, is in fact all too real.
She gives it little more than a glance, turning her attention to Jack and Gwen and schooling her features; she hasn’t seen it, she can’t afford to have seen it.
Gwen, tear tracks staining her face, is openly starring, eyes just a little too wide. She has probably seen what had happened to Suzie, that’s why she seems so shocked, or at least Iona hopes that’s what it is; shock. Freaking Gwen out on the first day won’t make for the most comfortable work relationship.
Jack on the other hand is unreadable as ever, one hand on Gwen’s shoulder, the other tucked behind his back. He meets Iona’s gaze steadily, nodding to her sharply before guiding Gwen onto the lift. Jack meets her gaze again as he positions himself on the slab, fingers already on the control on his wrist, “The knife’s in Suzie’s bag, bring it and the glove to my office once you’re done with the body.”
Iona nods mutely, knowing better than to ask what knife he means; there’s only really one knife he could mean in association with the glove and Suzie. She watches silently as they vanish from view, the replacement slab sliding quietly into place, before she turns to collect Suzie’s bag and to gather what she will need to clean up the second stain. It won’t do to leave any kind of mess, it would only scare the tourists.
*
Iona stumbles into her sad little flat two hours later, sliding down the wall in the hallway next to the door, relief flooding through her.
It’s wrong, this relief, she knows. It’s wrong to be relieved that Suzie’s behaviour had never had anything to do with Lisa but rather it had been her obsession with the glove; an obsession that had driven her to murder innocent people to learn how to control it better.
She must have thought that Iona had noticed something.
It was ironic really, both of them, suspecting the other of knowing their secret and both of them wrong.
Iona closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the wall, laughing, only half aware of the hysterical edge to it. Her secret was safe.
Lisa was safe.
That was all that mattered. She couldn’t bring herself to care about what Suzie had been doing, about the betrayal.
Lisa was everything. She had to be, Iona had already failed her once. She wouldn’t fail her again.
--
Lisa’s been dead two months when the rest of the team leave her alone in the Hub to answer a call from the police. It’s normal now and she doesn’t mind. She savours the time alone, when she doesn’t have to pretend that she isn’t broken.
She hacks into the police database, forwarding on the access to Tosh on the computer in the SUV, She eyes the crime scene photos silently, wondering why the police felt the need to call Torchwood in on them. Normally they go out of their way to keep Torchwood away from a case, why the sudden invitation?
The answer, she decides after a long moment, most likely lies with this new crime scene, which means she won’t get an answer until the others get back, not that she minds all too much. Not being at the crime scene means no chance of having another flashback, even if they are getting less regular now.
*
Tosh fills her in when the team gets back and while Owen prepares for the meeting Iona does some checking of her own, a little scared by what she finds, in the face of the information Tosh gave her.
She’s the last to the boardroom, more because of the insane need she’d felt to check her findings multiple times, despite the fact that she knew they weren’t likely to change. Their computers were rarely wrong, unless the information they had been given was.
Owen’s already started and she has to fight not to blush when her entrance, despite her attempt to be as quiet as possible draws everyone’s attention. Jack gives her a slightly disapproving look and she ducks her head in return, it’s not like she’ll have anything useful to add.
“Is he remembering he’s a serial killer, or is he becoming a serial killer because of the retcon?” Owen continues, as though nothing’s happened.
“Wait a minute,” Gwen’s head snaps back around, “I’ve taken retcon.”
So have most of us, at some point or other, Iona thinks to herself, but Gwen probably doesn’t realise that. She’s never asked either. On the other side of the table Jack exchanges an amused glance with Tosh, “Then you better stay away from sharp objects.” He replies, playfully, before turning seriously again, “Iona, how many people have we given retcon to?”
“Two thousand and eight.” She answers straight away, not bothering to add that that number only includes those they’ve recorded. The number’s higher, she has no doubt about this, but she can’t be exact if she tries to allow for the lack of records. The number she has works for now though.
“Hey, what if they all become psychotic?” Owen jumps in, his apparent excitement making Iona feel rather uncomfortable and if the expression on Tosh’s face was anything to go by, she wasn’t the only one.
“Do you have to sound so happy about it?”
“Yeah but I’m just saying, Mean Streets.” Owen shrugs off Tosh’s comment, still grinning.
Jack frowns at Owen for a moment before turning his attention to Tosh, “Tosh, start narrowing it down to ones that fit Swanson’s profile.” He turns to Gwen, motioning between her and Owen, “You two, there’s got to be a link between the victims, find the link, find the killer.”
Iona frowns, idly wondering what Jack has planned for them to do, especially as she doubts it’s going to involve the backlog of paperwork in his office that she’s reminded him of at least six times this week, She wouldn’t have minded, but he’s started giving out her email instead of his own, which meant she was the one stuck dealing with irate UNIT representatives, among others.
The only problem is, Gwen isn’t moving, “Jack, if there is a link why don’t we just ask the victims ourselves.”
It takes all of Iona’s will power not to flinch, she knows exactly what Gwen’s getting at and she doesn’t like it, not even slightly. They’ve been here before.
“Not the right time for a séance.” Jack answers, as though it’ll be enough to silence Gwen of all people.
“The first time I meet Torchwood, you had that glove.” Gwen continues, as though Jack hadn’t spoken.
Jack laughs dismissively, even as Iona sinks down a little in her chair, silently wishing that she could anywhere but here, “No way.”
“Not after what it did to Suzie.” Owen adds, somewhat bitterly. Iona wonders, for a brief moment, if he’s comparing Gwen with Suzie in his head. That idea makes her wince, not even Owen would do that.
“It brings people back to life, just for two minutes, we could question the murder victims.” Iona bites her lip, wondering if Gwen is even hearing what Jack and Owen are saying.
“That’s exactly what she said.” Owen comments, voice hardening, “She was one of us, we trusted her and now she’s dead because of that thing.” He has a right to bitter about it, Iona reminds herself, he lost a lover to that glove. Suzie betrayed him for it.
“The glove stays in the safe, where it belongs.” Jack supplies, glaring at Gwen. He doesn’t like the reminder any more than Owen and Iona has no doubt that he also hates the idea of losing another member of his team, especially to the glove.
“Yeah, but these murders are happening because of Torchwood, so Torchwood has got to do something.”
Iona winces; trust Gwen to go for the low blow.
*
Of all of them, Gwen seems to be the only one who doesn’t think that this is a bad idea, that they should only really be doing this if it’s the very last resort. If it works, she’s not too sure that Gwen won’t just start suggesting they do it any time dead people start turning up. It’s the easy way, but the hardest at the same time.
Jack tries it first and fails just as badly as before. Owen, thankfully, points out that they all tried it before and it didn’t work for any of them either, interrupted before Jack can make each of them try it again. If she’s honest, she didn’t really try last time, she didn’t want to, the glove gives her the willies, always has. That’s part of the reason she’s always thought of it as the ‘Risen Mitten’, because otherwise she’d just be thinking ‘that damn freaky glove’ and of all of the potential, both good and bad, that it represents.
Gwen surprises her with how much of a natural she is, using the glove, though she thinks it might have something to do with how much blame Gwen seems to lay on herself whenever someone dies. Given a means to bring them back, even for the meagre amount of time the glove allows, Iona isn’t really surprised that Gwen jumps at the chance. In fact, she half expects to find, one day, when Jack’s out brooding, that Gwen’s been using the glove to bring the people whose deaths she feels responsible for back to life, just so she can apologise.
She’s watching her stopwatch more than she is Gwen and the others, she’s found a kind of acceptance now, where death is concerned, since Lisa, to the point that she doesn’t really want to think about what they’re doing now. It’s a kind of torture really, or at least it seems that way to her, dragging the dead back to the world of the living just to demand answers from them. She doesn’t know what’s there, on the other side of it all and she doesn’t want to. There are things that even she doesn’t need to know; things that a person is better off not knowing until the time comes for them to learn the answer for themselves.
“Suzie.” It’s the first thing any of them have said that has really penetrated and it’s the one thing she hadn’t expected, or wanted to hear. She manages, somehow, not to press the button on the stopwatch until Owen’s machines emit the ominous noise that signals the end of another session, but it’s a near thing.
“One minute, five seconds.” She half mutters, starring numbly at the corpse on the autopsy table, dread settling in the bottom of her stomach.
“Jack, did I hear that right?” Tosh calls from the other room, something close to horror in her voice, a feeling that Iona can relate to. Suzie had murdered three people in the name of research while she was a live, none of them needed to hear that she might somehow be involved with these new cases.
“Could be anyone.” Owen argues, a little too quickly, but Iona isn’t surprised, for all that Owen goes on about how Suzie had betrayed them, she was still in his bed. Owen felt something for her, not love, that much Iona knows, but something. “There must be lots of women called Suzie.”
“Not connected to this case.” Jack replies, with an edge to his voice. Gwen remains silent, cradling the hand that’s been in the glove to her chest, standing there pale and shaking. That’s the glove Iona thinks absently, it has to take something to give something, otherwise where does it get the power from? Iona shudders faintly, ducking her head to examine the stopwatch in her hands. She isn’t going to think about it; nor does she like what she knows Jack is going to say next. “We’ve been talking to the wrong corpse.”
*
They spend more time finding evidence to connect Suzie to the murder victims then they did arguing against using the glove. That seems wrong somehow, but Iona doesn’t think it’s really her place to question, so she just does what she can to help the others, providing coffee and accompanying Tosh back to the most recent victims’ house. It’s a relief that the bodies aren’t there, every now again she still suffers from flashbacks, though now she sees the cannibals more often than she sees Canary Wharf.
It’s funny, listening to Tosh’s disgusted mutterings about how backwards some people are, she doesn’t point out that she knows a number of people who still aren’t on the internet, who prefer the more reliable pen and paper over computers. Then there’s Owen and his avoidance, she doesn’t see the point, doesn’t see why he feels the need to hide his relationship with Suzie from Gwen. It seems unfair; Gwen deserves to know that she isn’t the first person from work that Owen’s taken home for more than a cup of tea and a hug. But like with everything else, it isn’t Iona’s place to say.
She stays behind again, when the others go to the lock up. She’s been there before, she did a lot of the packing and she knows what they’re going to find, but knows that they need to see it for themselves. She hadn’t even realised that she should have recognised what the man was talking about until she’d seen the posters again. She hadn’t read it when she’d been packing up Suzie’s things, the very idea of doing so seeming like a betrayal, even though a part of her had reminded her that it would just be returning the favour.
Standing in the autopsy room with the others, she avoids looking at the body laid out on the table. She doesn’t want to, wishes that she could flee, just run as far away as possible, but she can’t; she has a responsibility. A duty.
She hates Gwen’s naivety as she stands there, glove on hand, demanding answers from Jack. Gwen knows what they do with all of the people and aliens that pass through, why does she think she’ll be any different when her time comes? What makes her so adverse to it for her, with all she’s done, versus the innocent people who’ve died because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, whose bodies she’s watched Iona and Jack take wheel away towards the cold store?
She can’t help but watch Jack’s reaction though. None of them ever really challenge him over these things, they all have their reasons for that but sometimes she thinks he needs them to. They aren’t the only ones who have doubts, who need to say something out loud as a reminder of why.
“You got your stopwatch?” Owen questions briskly and she looks away from Jack quickly, snapping her well kept mask back into place.
She holds up her stopwatch, smiling faintly at Owen, “Always.”
“I’ll record from my station,” Tosh says suddenly, clearly unable to stand the idea of staying in the room any longer, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to look her in the eye.” All of them but Gwen watch Tosh leave with a mixture of empathy and annoyance. Iona can see Gwen gritting her teeth out of the corner of her eye and she thinks she understands how Gwen’s feeling. Gwen may have never really known Suzie, but she’d been the one that Suzie had threatened to kill, who she would have killed if it hadn’t been for Jack. If she was Gwen, she wouldn’t want to be in the room either, let alone be the one brining Suzie back.
“Sorry.” Tosh mutters again as she rushes up the stairs, not meeting anyone’s eyes, all too aware of their eyes following her.
“Anyone else?” Iona looks across at Jack for a split second before ducking her head once more. She wants to take Jack up on his offer; almost gives in to what her brain has been telling her to do ever since Jack unzipped the white body bag, but she doesn’t. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Owen grit his teeth, focusing on his monitors. He doesn’t want to be here either, but she knows as well as she does that leaving isn’t really an option.
“Any advice?” Gwen questions, looking up at Jack, “Yeah I know, empathy,” She provides before Jack can, making it clear that she wanted something else, “even though she did try to kill me.”
“You and me both.” Jack comments and Iona can’t help but flinch slightly. He isn’t lying, not really, but it still feels like a lie to her, the truth of what happened that night a heavy weight that none of them know she’s carrying.
Iona focuses on her stopwatch, on the reason she’s still in the room, silently willing Gwen to just get on with it. There’s a long moment, then Gwen moves, placing the glove against Suzie’s head and closing her ryes. She gasps, breathing speeding up and Owen’s monitors start to beep, Iona doesn’t press the button on the stopwatch though, this doesn’t seem the same as the last two times Gwen did this.
“I’m getting a reading,” Owen comments, a slight edge of desperation in his voice, “Uh, no, it’s gone.” Owen visibly deflates, shaking his head and lowering the hand he’d been using to track the readings on the screen.
Gwen gasps again and Iona looks up, worried, watching silently as Jack reached out to Gwen, tucking her hair back behind her ear gently and resting his hand against her cheek; grounding her. After a moment Gwen pulls away slightly, shaking her head, “Just, memories, nothing living. She’s too far gone.”
“What do we do now?” Tosh calls from the other room, managing to sound concerned while projecting her vice so they can hear her.
“Nothing we can do.” Jack answers, starring done at Suzie’s still body, “That’s it, we’re out of options.”
“There’s always the knife,” Owen suggests quietly, “when she killed all those people, she always used that knife. It’s made out of the same metal as the glove.”
“We’ve seen it before,” Tosh agrees, “metallic resonance, like the glove works better if the knife is part of the process, like closing a circuit.”
Iona winces, if they’re going to follow this line of reasoning, she can see what they’re going to have to do and it isn’t a particularly pretty thought.
“The lets use it.” Gwen jumps on the idea and Iona can’t help but wonder how much of Gwen’s determination is a result of using the glove and how much is actually Gwen.
“Small detail, the knife was used to kill people. She’s all ready dead.” Jack argues, seemingly determined to ignore what the others are actually saying.
“So we kill her again.” Gwen replies, sounding as worn as she looks. This Iona thinks, is probably going to end badly, but then, what doesn’t when Torchwood’s involved.
*
Less than fifteen minutes later they’re back in the autopsy room, only this time they’ve got the ‘Life Knife’. It’s not the best name she could have thought of for it, Iona allows, but she like the irony.
She watches as Jack slices Suzie’s arm, putting off the inevitable. She understand why he feels that he has to at least try something small, but at the same time, her brain’s too concerned with getting this over with as soon as possible.
“Anything?” Jack questions, though he already knows the answer.
“No, just a short of spark then it was gone.” Gwen answers, head still bent over Suzie’s, eyes closed, focusing on the glove. “I’m sorry Jack, you’re going to have to do it properly.” Gwen looks up at Jack after a moment, expectant.
Jack hesitates, looking to Owen for some argument against what Gwen’s asking him to do, but Owen just shrugs before turning back to his monitors. Jack sighs, giving the knife a disgusted look shaking his head, before finally giving in. “What the hell.” Jack mutters, rising the knife and plunging it into Suzie’s chest.
The effect’s instant, one moment Suzie’s body’s perfectly still and very dead, the next she’s babbling, not really paying any attention to Jack as he tries to calm her. She stops after a few moments, starring up at Jack, confused, “Wait a minute, didn’t I kill you?”
Iona bites her bottom lip hard, ignoring the baffled look Owen throws Jack and Jack’s dismissal. They really should have been expecting that, after all, Suzie isn’t likely to have forgotten doing that, not under the circumstances.
“Who’s using the glove?” Suzie demands, ignoring Jack’s questions.
“I’m sorry.” Gwen whispers, not looking at Suzie and Iona refocused on the stopwatch in her hands.
“Oh no, Gwen bloody Cooper.” Suzie curses, there’s something else there, in her voice but Iona ignores it.
“Thirty seconds.” They need answers, now, before their time runs out.
“When you were in Pilgrim, you gave the amnesia pill to a man, Max, do you remember?”
“You brought me all the way back, just for Max.” Iona can understand Suzie’s anger, but she seems too focused, more so than anyone they’re ever brought back before. That terrifies her.
“We need to find him, where is he? What’s his surname?” Jack’s getting frustrated, but Suzie doesn’t care.
“He was just, some loser.” Suzie spits, still so angry.
“Yeah, we’re losing her.” Owen comments, fingers tracking the readings.
“Stay here damn you.” Gwen yells, almost screams and that determination makes Iona’s stomach bottom out. This really isn’t good. Even at her most determined, Suzie hadn’t ever tried to force the glove like Gwen seems to be now.
“Don’t force it Gwen.” Jack orders her, not seeming to realise she’s beyond hearing him.
“You’re not getting away this time, stay here….No!” The glove throws Gwen back from Suzie’s now still body and Jack and Owen rush to her side while Iona remains where she is, starring, horrified at the monitors. Suzie’s still alive. The glove isn’t touching her, it’s not even still on Gwen’s hand, Jack’s seen to that, but she’s still alive. Suzie’s still here.
“It’s the glove, I told you, they get hooked!” Jack’s yelling again.
“Alright, don’t make a fuss,” Owen replies, as though he talking to a child, cradling Gwen in his arms, “it’s over now.”
Not good. Not good at all. Iona fights back her panic, she needs to tell the others, needs to make them aware of just how bad this situation is getting, “Umm, excuse me, I’m still counting.”
Owen looks up, irritated, “There’s not much point, Suzie’s dead.”
Iona has to fight to keep from yelling at him, “No, according to your equipment, she’s just unconscious.”
Owen and Jack exchange a look over Gwen’s head, “What the hell’s going on?” Jack demands.
Owen hauls himself upright, hurrying back across the room, leaning over to examine the monitors, “My God, she’s right, she’s alive. Suzie’s still alive.” Owen’s voice rises as he continues, “Look at her, she’s bloody breathing!”
“She can’t be.” Jack denies, standing and moving to Suzie’s side, yanking the knife from her chest.
“No,” Owen shakes his head, “still breathing, no stopping her, she won’t die.” He’s starring at her, clearly unnerved.
“One minute, thirty seconds…and counting.” Iona comments, because there’s nothing else to say. Not really, besides screaming and running in terror, which isn’t really an option.
*
She runs, as soon as they’re all occupied with Suzie, with the fact that she’s still alive. Suzie, with the hole in her head, breathing; it’s unnatural. Wrong on so many levels Iona’s not sure she wants to consider right now.
Suzie had scared her before, now she’s terrified, of what they’ve done, of what Suzie is; of what it all means.
She can’t stay away long though, she’s in no fit state to work in the archives, but she tries her hardest to resist the morbid curiosity that grips her stronger than the fear, for now. She hides in the kitchenette while Owen joins Tosh at her computer, watching the screen as Gwen and Jack talk to Suzie.
It’s not really a surprise when Suzie doesn’t even mention her, when none of the others think to mention her, but she feels a flash of anger none the less. Of all of them when she’d been alive, it had been Suzie who had paid the most attention to her, asking so many questions, making sure that she knew what she had to do, including her. It hurts, to be left out, even if hearing her own name come out of the mouth of a murderer, the walking undead, would have made her feel violated.
Suzie’s voice as she continues and the words that she speaks, give Iona the chills. There’s something not right with this, something beyond the fact that Suzie shouldn’t be speaking. Something bad is coming, she doesn’t know what, but she thinks Suzie knows; she thinks Suzie might be responsible.
It’s silly though, Suzie’s been dead three months, she can’t be responsible, not really, None of them have ever been given any reason to think that retcon might have a harmful effect, or at least, not this type of harmful effect. It should be more random Iona thinks, these killings, if it’s because of the retcon, but maybe it more than that. Maybe he’s killing people he associates with the cause of his madness; maybe she’s over thinking the whole situation, trying too hard to make it make sense.
She continues to listen, cleaning the surfaces and the coffee maker to give her hands something to do. It seems too easy in the end though, Suzie was always so stubborn, but she gives in so easily in the end, gives them the answers they need. At the same time, it’s Jack demanding answers and there’s something about him, something that even Suzie couldn’t always resist.
None of it makes Iona feel any better though, if anything, it’s starting to feel even more like there’s a storm coming. Especially when she hears the name of the bar, why is it always wolves?
*
She walks into the conference room just as Owen starts to examine the recordings, running them through the medical monitors. She there when he gets to Suzie, when he swears and she sees it, clear as day, the reason she’s been feeling so uneasy about of all this.
She stands there, stunned, starring numbly at the screen as Owen calls Jack in and shows him the recordings, her brain still struggling to cope. As Owen explains what they’re seeing to Tosh and Jack she finally manages to fight back the horror, glancing towards Jack, away from the screen.
“There’s always a price.” Jack echoes the words that Iona’s been thinking, over and over, since seeing the video the first time. The same thing she’d thought before, watching how bringing the victims back had affected Gwen, but that she’d been denying since. Not once had she even let herself consider this a possibility. She’s likes Gwen, even if the other woman has moments of almost blinding naivety, she likes what Gwen’s presence has brought. More than that, she knows that Gwen doesn’t deserve this. “The wearer of the glove can bring someone back, but they loose their own life in return.” Jack finishes, frowning at the screen as the video loops.
“How do we stop it?” Tosh asks the same question as Iona would have, if she could, if she wasn’t still fighting against the panic that’s been building in her stomach.
“We’ve got to kill her, Suzie’s got to die.” There’s no emotion, it’s as though Jack doesn’t care, but then again, maybe he doesn’t.
“Again?” Tosh blurts, eyes wide.
“Who’s going to do it?” Owen’s calm, calmer than he really has any right to be.
“Like you said, I’m the boss.” Jack pulls his gun from it’s holster, not even hesitating as he heads out of the room. Iona stays behind, not even bothering to try and convince her legs to take her weight, watching as the others follow. She needs some space to deal with her epiphany, the reasons for the dread, panic and fear.
They’ll fix this; she knows they will, with or without her.
They have to, for Gwen’s sake.
*
She gets herself under control quickly, shutting off the video that Owen’s left running and heading downstairs, mentally listing everything she might need to clear up after the others. She’s done it once before, she can do it again; however times she might need to.
She’s in one of the supply cupboards when the lights go out. It takes her longer because of the darkness, but she manages to find one of the torches she has stashed around for just this situation. The only time the lights in the Hub go out is when someone, typically Jack, initiates a lockdown. He must have decided to make sure that Suzie can’t escape.
She abandons her supplies, heading back towards the central area. Protocol demands that she be with the others for the duration of the lockdown, if possible, unless otherwise ordered by her boss.
“Iona. Iona!” Jack’s bellow echoes in the open space and she winces. Jack yelling is never good.
“Captain.” She called out as she crossed the gangway under the water tower, not surprised when he ran across to meet her.
“What happened?”
She blinked, baffled, “But I thought you must have done it, we’ve gone into lockdown.”
“Then reverse it.”
Iona gritted her teeth, sometimes she really couldn’t understand why anyone had thought that Jack Harkness was the best choice for leadership, to say he occasionally lacked real awareness was an understatement, “I can’t, it’s one hundred percent, the doors are sealed…we’re locked in.”
He growled, glaring at her for a moment before shaking his head, “Come on, there’s got to be a way.”
Iona sighed, mentally adding ‘locking us all in’ to the list of things that Suzie had to have planned at some point, living or dead as she obediently followed. She could only hope that the Captain had some idea of how to undo this, even if he did seem to think she’d have a better idea of how to accomplish such a thing.
*
While Owen and Jack left to check on their prisoner and Tosh tried to get the computers to respond, Iona set her mind to the communications issue. With all of the technology they had, you’d think there would be some way to get at least a message out.
Chewing on her bottom lip she turned, letting her gaze wander around the main cavern, looking for anything she might be able to use, something to prompt some kind of idea. The computers weren’t working, the phone signals were being blocked, all the doors sealed, no way to get outside….
Iona froze, starring at the water tower for a long moment, following it up until it vanished into the roof. She allowed herself a small smile, it could work, might not but it was worth a try. She turned to Tosh, only to find the other woman still bent over the computers, muttering, it was probably best to leave Tosh to her work she decided.
Grabbing one of the phone handsets Iona jogged back across to the water tower, searching around inside until she found a bundle of wires that she use and then setting to work. If it worked she’d tell the others, if not, they’d be none the wiser. At least that way she didn’t risk receiving any icy commentary about her usefulness from Owen, or worse still, Jack’s reassurances that she’d done her best.
It took a good few minutes of rather delicate manipulation, figuring out how to get around the blocks that were a part of the lockdown system, convincing the phone to rely instead on what she was providing it, but she managed it. She dialled a number quickly, checking, making sure that she wasn’t assuming. She grinned, hanging up as the person on duty at the team’s favourite takeaway picked up. “I’ve got reception sir!”
“How’d you do that? We’re sealed off.” It was so nice to know they still underestimated her so much.
“Just used the water tower as a relay.” She answered, careful to make it sound as though it should have been obvious and was a simple enough thing to do. She held the handset out to him silently, fighting a blush when he grinned at her, grabbing the handset and running back up to the others, luckily she’s expected him to do that and had allowed for it in the length of the cables. It would have been just perfect if he’d undone all of her work because he felt the need to stand next to Tosh’s work station to make a call. She’d leave it to him to figure out who the hell they could get to help them.
“Nice work Iona.” He called back, nodding to her and Iona curtsied, knowing that much of the action would be hidden by the shadows. One of these days they would stop making it sound so amazing that she was good for something other than housework and looking pretty.
*
By the time Owen and Jack get back with Gwen and the body, Iona’s finished clearing up what’s left of the glove and the knife is stored safely away in the safe in Jack’s office. She’s left the remains of the glove in a small bag in her work area, unsure of what Jack wants done with it. She would have thrown it in the incinerator, but it’s not her decision to make.
She meets them in the garage, stepping forward to help ease Gwen out of the back seat, offering the other woman a reassuring smile. She steps back after a moment, hands clasped in front of her, watching silently as Owen guides Gwen down into the Hub, once their gone to turns her attention to Jack, “I’ll see to the body sir.” She waves a hand at the gurney she’s brought with her, hoping it will silence any objects he might have.
He still hesitates, gaze flicking for her to SUV to the door that Gwen and Owen have just vanished through and back. “I should…”
Iona shakes her head, taking a step closer to him, meeting his gaze steadily, “I’ll see to the body.” She repeats, purposefully leaving the sir off the end of the statement. He blinks, thrown for a moment before he folds, shoulders slumping slightly.
“Okay.” He allows before starting towards the door, he stills part way there, turning to look back at her for a moment, “I’ll meet you in cold storage in fifteen.” He nods again before hurrying out.
Once she’s sure he’s gone Iona allows herself to relax a little, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before moving to the SUV’s boot and the body hidden within. She needs to do this herself, needs to reassure herself it’s over, even if her brain keeps reminding her that once a thing’s happened once, there’s nothing to stop it happening again.
*
Her hands are shaking as she fills out the forms; forms she’s already filled out once before. She’s standing alongside the open drawer, Suzie’s body laid out in front of her, body bag still unzipped, there’s still no sign of breathing, no heartbeat.
Under different circumstances she wouldn’t be here, the body would already be sealed away and she’d be doing the paperwork sat at her desk, but she needs this; this constant reassurance that it’s over.
She looks up from her clipboard as she hears Jack coming, his footsteps echoing, schooling her features, refusing to let her emotions show.
“Thanks for doing this.” He smiles at her, hands hidden in his trouser pockets, standing with Suzie’s body between them.
“Part of my job sir.” She replies, dropping her gaze back to the forms that are still only half filled out.
“No,” He corrects her, obviously annoyed with himself, “I should be doing it, but….” He stops turning to put his back against the closed drawers, shaking his head and her heart goes out to him. He cares about them all, even after they betray him, she knows that, is an example of it, but she doubts any of the others really notice. She’s privileged, lucky to be the one who gets to see him like this, even if she still doesn’t understand why he lets her. He sighs heavily, eyes darting around the room, “One day we’re going to run out of space.”
She hesitates for a long moment, watching him while pretending to still be focused on the paperwork that she really should be filling out, considering her options. More than anything she just wants to feel alive again and, if she’s reading him right, he’s in need of the same. She swallows, licking her lips before squaring her shoulders and looking up at him, “If you’re interested, I’ve still got that stopwatch.” She comments, making it sound idle.
He frowns, glancing at her, shaking his head slightly and she fights the urge to laugh. Of all the people to not understand what she’s getting at. “So?”
“Well, think about it, lots of things you can do with a stopwatch.” She tries again, making sure to arch an eyebrow suggestively, shifting her weight a little.
“Oh yeah.” He grins, eyes loosing their focus a little as the light comes on in his head, “I can think of a few.”
She smiles, just a little, “There’s quite a list.”
“I’ll send the others home early,” He’s grinning, obviously already planning what he going to do to her once the others are gone, he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I’ll see you in my office in ten…”
She smiles, pulling the stopwatch out of her suit Jacket pocket and holding it up, “That’s ten minutes,” She presses the button with an exaggerated movement, “and counting.”
She has to bite back the urge to laugh at the speed he makes for the door, he really shouldn’t be quite this easy, moving around to where he was standing previously, determined to finish her work before followed. She glances down at the form and curses herself quietly, she should have asked him before, there are rules about mixing work and sex, damnit, “Oh, Jack,” he freezes in the doorway, turning back to her, raising an eyebrow, “what do you want me to say on the death certificate.”
“Good question.” The smile fades from his face and she searches for some way to make the conversation lighter. She really should have asked before propositioning him.
“She had quite a few deaths in the end.”
He nods faintly, his mind clearly elsewhere, “I don’t know,” He stops for a moment before he seems to come to a decision, his voice never wavering as he continues, “Death by Torchwood.”
She nods faintly, swallowing against the slight lump his answer has raised in her throat, “I’ll put a lock on the door,” she motions with her pen, keeping her voice light, “just in case she goes walking again.”
“Nah, no chance of that, the resurrection days are over, thank god.” He replies smiling and suddenly she can’t stop herself, even though she knows she should. She really should.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. That’s the thing about gloves sir, they come in pairs.” She kicks herself mentally, but it’s said now, she can’t take it back. She ducks her head as soon as he turns back to face her, writing frantically, trying to ignore the disappointment she’d sure is there in is gaze. She swallows hard once she’s sure he’s gone, sagging slightly, gaze drifting back to Suzie’s body, the bag still open.
She drops the clipboards onto Suzie’s covered chest and pulls the zip closed angrily, she refuses to let this get to her any more. It’s over, it’s done, she isn’t going to be scared of could have beens. Suzie Costello is not going to beat her, from beyond the grave or otherwise.
She picks up the clipboard again, quickly finishing the forms before sliding the drawer in and slamming the door with a satisfying click.
--
