A/N: Hello! This idea struck me a while ago, but I just started writing it now. It's my second rewriting of the series, to be honest, but my first one without any OCs involved, mostly because... Well, I'd like to try my hand at writing stories only featuring canon characters. For those who've read my other fanfic, "Torchwood", this story will not be exactly the same. Mainly because, like the Summary said, the reader will follow Gwen throughout the entire series, as she tries to make things right. I sort of wanted to give Gwen a second chance. She's not a perfect character by any means, even if she's older and wiser, mentally. I suppose I'll let you find out for yourselves.

I just wanted to write this author's note as a warning: I'm not going to be posting very often. And if I do, it won't be soon. I'm posting the prologue and the first chapter today, to see how this idea is received. I'll still be writing this story for myself, but my other stories are my priorities right now. Mainly "Torchwood". I'll let you read, and let you form your opinion on it, but, like I said, updates won't be often, if at all. Sorry about that.

Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or its characters, etc. I don't own the plots of the individual episodes either. That's all BBC.

Spoiler alert: Pretty much for the entire series. I'm sorry.

Prologue.

By some miracle of life, Gwen Cooper had lived until she was fifty years old. She had joined Torchwood in the prime of her life, and she had always thought she would die young, perhaps even before her thirties, but those came fast enough. And then came the forties, and before she realised, she was fifty years old. Perhaps all those years she hadn't spent as a Torchwood employee had helped increase her life expectancy. But it wasn't just her age that had changed.

She was wiser now. She knew many of the things she had done as a young woman had been wrong, and on her own head. Her fragile relationship with Rhys had been her own fault. All those civilian casualties, they had mostly been her fault. Sometimes even hostile aliens being released had been her fault. Oh, what she wouldn't give to go back and change it all. But she had learnt long ago that time-travel was a tricky business, and it was better not to dwell on the past too much, but focus on the present and the future. But for God's sake… what present? What future? Ever since 2017, she had let Torchwood become her life again, and almost repeated the same mistakes all over again.

Except Rhys was with her this time, helping her out. Jack was long gone, in another world, doing whatever immortal men do when they're grieving. But she carried on, protecting the Earth, because someone had to. And that had to be her. The only Torchwood member standing. She had rebuilt it on her own, recruited people she thought would be up to the task, but it wasn't the same. Without Jack, without Ianto, without Owen, without Tosh, none of it was the same. It was Torchwood, yes, but it wasn't her Torchwood.

Still, they made it through, and Torchwood grew. Slowly, but surely, the Torchwood Institute was rebuilt. Torchwood Cardiff was the first of many bases to follow, not just in the United Kingdom, but in the entire world. And she was the leader of it all. At times, it felt so surreal. Other times, though, she was tired. Tired of sending people to their deaths. Because this job was fun, was exciting, was the best job in the world, but it was also dangerous, lethal, and the worst job in the world. Death by Torchwood is just a fancy way of saying Killed In Action. And who had sent the recently-deceased person to that mission? Why, Gwen Cooper, of course.

She often wondered if Jack felt this way, when he still led Torchwood Three. He certainly didn't let it show. No, Jack Harkness had been a very closed-off person, and she had pushed his buttons more times than she cared to admit, not always coming up with an answer, but always coming up with an angry or tired Jack Harkness. But she had been trained to ask questions. At the time, when she was new, asking questions was the only thing that came naturally to her. The rest, she had to learn. How to shoot, how to recognise aliens, how to… how to everything. She had to learn how to approach certain aliens after failing certain first diplomatic missions. She had to learn… everything.

And now here she was, doing the one thing she never expected to do: lead the entire Torchwood Institute. Like Yvonne Hartman did, except better. Because after all those years working for Torchwood, Gwen never lost one thing: her humanity. But sometimes, oh, sometimes… she had to make hard decisions. And after what seemed to be a lifetime of losses and gains, Gwen Cooper was ready to die, to just let it all go, being wiser than what she would have ever expected. Because in the end, what was life, but a joke? A big joke on part of the universe. She had lost everything, and gained more than she could possibly think, but none of that could ever fully repair her, and replace what she had lost. But that was okay.

And now, at fifty years old, she was dying. She could feel it. Every cell of her body was disintegrating because, once again, she pushed the wrong button on the wrong alien artefact. They'd just recovered it, no one could have known. But that was okay. Despite all her knowledge, despite all those years of training, she supposed her bad habits would never go away completely. She was dying in a way that was just so Gwen Cooper… she bit back a smile at the thought.

Her only regret would be her family: Rhys and Anwen. What would they think, when they found out she had died of a stupid mistake? Gwen didn't know. Gwen wasn't sure she wanted to know. She didn't want to cause them any harm, but the time had come. The brunette closed her eyes, as her cells dematerialised one by one until…

The first thing she felt was the rain. It wasn't just small drops falling on her according to a regular pattern. It felt more like a shower, really, and she had no umbrella to protect herself from the falling rain. The brunette blinked, which only surprised her more. It was nighttime, and she was surrounded by police cars and officers. When the brunette looked down on herself, she noticed she was wearing the uniform she wore back when she was a PC. Her heart started pounding, and the brunette was suddenly frightened.

She had died. She knew that. She had felt it. Felt the darkness embracing her, the one Suzie had described so long ago. So why the hell was she out in the rain, wearing a PC uniform, surveilling a crime scene? This couldn't possibly be real, right? But the sound, feeling, and smell of rain was just so real and so grounding Gwen wasn't sure how to answer that. She knew time travel was possible, but she had never experienced it. How could she know she had time travelled? Was there even a way for her to find out about it? She felt fear bubbling up in her, threatening to swallow her completely and—

"Gwen?" Andy's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Wait, Andy? Her head turned sharply towards him as she inspected him. He was wearing his usual police uniform and he… he was young. He looked young again, in his late twenties. And judging by what was going on around her, she was, at the very latest, in September 2007, when she was still working for the police. Again, Gwen started to panic internally. She had thought, after so many years of working at Torchwood, she wouldn't be bothered by time travel, and she would accept it with ease… But this was not time travel. This was… life. And she was dead, she knew that, she felt it. Unless… "Gwen, are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Been a rough day," the brunette answered, only to startle herself. That voice… She had a hard time recognising her own voice. Too many years had passed, she was fifty years old, for God's sake. Except she wasn't anymore, was she? No, she was in her late twenties now. Again. She shuddered.

Andy seemed to think it was because of the rain and cold. "You should've come here earlier, Gwen. You'd have ordered a coffee."

Gwen noticed the policeman who usually took the coffee orders in times like these. He had only one cup left. Gwen would've taken it, but that was something her younger self would do. At fifty years old, would she do that again? Granted, she wasn't exactly fifty anymore, but she felt old. Older than she had ever felt before. The brunette shook her head, and let the policeman walk past her, taking the coffee to its rightful destination. She didn't intercept him and steal it. No, she was far too worried about what she would do now. She wasn't even part of Torchwood, for God's sake, and she seemed to be in her younger body. What was she going to do?

Her eyes rested on the murdered young man lying on the street. The brunette had a hard time seeing clearly, what with all the rain. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be in her office, or at home, with Rhys and Anwen… She felt her stomach drop. Anwen didn't even exist by now. Her daughter, one of the two people she loved most in the world… she just didn't exist. Forget coffee, what Gwen needed right now was a strong drink. "Who is it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, as she focused on the murdered young man. Perhaps if she did that, then she wouldn't be thinking about her past — er, future — right now.

"Dunno. Some bloke. You going to Slimbo's on Friday?" Andy asked, as if that was more interesting than the murdered young man on the street. For a moment, Gwen stared at him. More often than not, Andy had been the one to remind her of her humanity, when she was too caught up in Torchwood and how they thought, how they acted, how they dealt with everything. And she, in turn, was who reminded the team of their humanity. And now he was distracted by something as mundane as going to Slimbo's on Friday?

"A man has just been murdered and that's what you're worried about?" she asked him, facing him, only to see a startled expression on his face. Quite right too. It's true, after seeing so many dead bodies, one might get used to them, as horrible as it sounds, but that's what made humanity so precious: it's incredibly easy to lose it.

"No, er… Gwen, are you sure you're all right?" her partner asked her. Gwen paused. No, she wasn't all right. She had time travelled and, somehow, she'd ended up in her younger self's body. After years and years of working at Torchwood, here she was. Starting all over again. Wouldn't death have been easier? Wouldn't the darkness have been preferrable to dealing with this heartbreak again? Gwen swallowed, unable to answer that question without lying — which was the last thing she wanted to do.

She didn't have to answer anything, though.

Some officers were telling SOCO to leave the scene. That caught both Andy's and her attention, and the blond soon asked another question, one Gwen could actually answer. "Aye, aye. What's happening there, then?" Just then, his radio told him SOCOs had to leave the scene. Gwen stayed put as Andy joined the other officers in evacuating everyone from the crime scene.

No, this couldn't be it, could it? This couldn't… this couldn't be happening. Of all the times where she could have been transported to, it had to be that one specific day, didn't it? The day she met Torchwood. "Bloody hell," she mumbled, as she got out of the crime scene herself. She stood aside as a black SUV made its way to the yellow tape, and a group of people she thought she would never see again appeared. She almost started crying, right then and there, but she kept her composure, her face a blank mask, one she had perfected after years of leading Torchwood.

Owen was the first one out. Gwen took a step back in fear and surprise. She felt like running and hugging him, hugging them all — except Suzie who, much to her displeasure, was still there. Seeing Tosh was worse. Not only had she died right in front of her, but her goodbye video made her cry every time she thought about it. The brunette brought a hand to cover her mouth, as she saw Jack — Jack fucking Harkness — as the leader of that fantastic team, the people who had come to be her family. God, she felt like crying and rocking backwards and forwards. What had she done to deserve this? It was curse. Seeing the very people who had died in front of her, some of then not even once, but twice. Why? Why was she brought here? All of time and space and she had to be brought to the one moment who started it all, and sent her life downhill.

"Torchwood," she whispered, as the team made its way to the body. That was… that was her Torchwood. Not the one she had been leading for all these years, but the one which had welcomed her and showed her the wonders of the universe. Her beloved Torchwood, and she could finally see the team reunited again.

The first time around, she had headed off to the level five of the car park next door, to get a better view of what was going on, trying to find out what Torchwood was and what they did. But now… Now it was different. She did the exact same thing, but for different reasons. She wanted to see her Torchwood again. She wanted to see them in action, hear their voices. It wasn't a curse. she was wrong about that. It was a drug. Definitely worse than a curse. She hated it with all her being, but she couldn't stop the urge to just talk to them, see them again after all these years. It was just impossible.

Now, she was doing it again, running up the stairs and making her way through the deserted parking lot, running a lot faster than she thought she would be at this age. Then again, she was in her younger body. She wasn't sure she'd be able to run this fast at age fifty. She hadn't tried at the time. Running like this… It was refreshing, exciting, and soon, she felt it. That excitement that came with working for Jack's Torchwood, one she hadn't felt in years due to the nature of her job. Oh, how she had missed it.

She reached the edge of the parking lot, cautiously looking down at her would-be teammates. She was desperate to hear their voices once more, to see them, with all their mannerisms and what not. She so desperately wanted to see them all alive and kicking again. "There you go. I can taste it. Oestrogen. Definitely oestrogen. You take the Pill, flush it away. It enters the water cycle, feminises the fish." While Jack spoke, Suzie took out the glove and put it on. Gwen shuddered. She never wanted to see that blasted glove ever again. "Goes all the way up into the sky, then falls all the way back down on to me. Contraceptives in the rain. Love this planet. Still, at least I won't get pregnant. Never doing that again. How's it going?"

"Nothing yet," Suzie answered, unable to get that feeling of access the glove gave her. Gwen had known that feeling for just an instant, and it was enough for her to never forget about it. It was electrical and tiring. Like there was electricity surging through her body, draining her of one of the most important things to her body: her life-force. At first she hadn't felt how tiring it was, running on adrenaline and what not. And then, she was too focused on trying to help Suzie to notice her own fatigued state. "It's got to connect. I've just got to feel it."

Owen, who was filming, spoke up next. "Hurry up and feel it. I'm freezing my arse off here." Gwen gasped. It had been so long since she'd heard his voice. One of her best friends in the world… Died. Twice. Oh, she remembered both his deaths very well, despite having just been told what had happened the second time 'round. Oh, how she hated it. She hated and loved the possibility she was given: to see her friends once more.

"I can't just flick a switch. It's more like access. It grants me access," Suzie explained, irritated, as usual, by Owen's behaviour and impatience. Bloody hell, Gwen was just happy to have him back alive, his negative traits included.

"Whatever that means," Owen dismissed his colleague's claims.

"It's like—" the brunette started, but soon she cut herself off, as the glove started working. "Oh, oh, oh."

"Positions," Jack ordered.

"If I get punched again, I'm punching him right back," Owen warned, and Gwen chuckled. God, how she had missed him and his sarcastic comments. After his death, the Hub had never been quite the same. She smiled sadly, as she looked upon her old friends and colleagues. It felt almost like a dream, so surreal she doubted she was living it, even after having come to terms with her situation. Rather quickly too, although that might have been because she had no choice: she woke up surrounded by policemen, in her old police uniform. She should've been dead, but she wasn't. Might as well make the most of this curse or drug, or whatever it was.

"Just concentrate. Suzie." That was the cue. The young woman had positioned herself behind the victim's head, and her right hand was now going underneath it, to give him life for a few minutes, if they were lucky. Gwen's smile disappeared, and her stony mask returned. She hated having to see this, but she couldn't look away.

The rain stopped as soon as Suzie's hand went underneath the dead man's head. The lights the police had placed around the body shone brighter, and a few seconds later, the young man gasped back to life, panicking as soon as he opened his eyes. He struggled, trying to breathe, and he started to speak in that panicked way, characteristic of everyone who's gone through a traumatic event. "There was — what was — I was, I was... Oh, my God. I was going home."

"Listen to me. We've only got two minutes so it's important that you listen, okay?" Tosh spoke, softly, but commanding. Gwen gasped again, her hand covering her mouth once more. Oh, she had been so devastated after her death, she found it hard to both keep looking at her and look away. This was Toshiko Sato, one of her best friends in the world, who had died right in front of her… And here she was. Alive and well. Gwen wanted to cry.

The victim gave her a confused look. "Who are you?"

"Trust me." The sentence she was about to say certainly didn't inspire much trust. "You're dead."

"How am I dead?" the young man demanded.

"You were stabbed," Owen informed him.

"I'm not dead. I can see you." Gwen wanted nothing more but to go down there and reassure the young man, but she knew that wouldn't happen. Jack would get her out, and it would cost Torchwood precious time to talk to the victim, despite the very clear fact he had no idea who had murdered him. But Gwen knew. She had never forgotten. Every time she glanced at Suzie, she couldn't help but glare at her. For the murders she'd committed, and for those she would commit, if the opportunity arose.

Gwen had lived long enough to know it was good to show people kindness and compassion, but some people would take advantage of that, and she had to be very careful to whom she showed those human qualities. And Suzie Costello was certainly not one to deserve compassion. At least not to the point Gwen had been willing to give her last time.

"We've brought you back, but we haven't got long. I'm sorry, but you've got to concentrate. Who did this to you? What did you see?" Toshiko insisted. It wouldn't work, they were doing it wrong. They were telling him the truth, yes, but they were going about it badly. They were too direct, and people who had just died and come back for two minutes at most didn't like to be told that. Gwen sighed. In truth, she wasn't sure what she would do in her situation. After everything she had seen, everything she had lived, she didn't know whether she would tell them the truth or go for a white lie. A white lie would calm them and give them peace and hope, but they deserved to know the truth, no matter what they had gone through.

"Why am I dead?"

There was no answer anyone could possibly give him, except for Suzie, the killer, so Tosh asked a question of her own. "Who attacked you?"

"I don't want to be dead." Gwen knew how that felt. And yet, at the same time, seeing what had happened when she had, in fact, died… Wouldn't it be better if she had died, after all? Old wounds would remain closed, and time could carry on as it should be. Gwen swallowed, trying to keep herself in check. She knew Jack was aware of where she was, and was keeping a discrete eye on her. She needed to be strong, the same way she was strong for her employees at the Torchwood she led.

"Sixty seconds," Suzie warned.

"You've got to think. Just focus on me. What was the last thing you saw?" Tosh asked, now under pressure at the reminder of how little time they had before John Tucker — Gwen finally remembered his name — returned to the shadows of death.

"I didn't see. I don't know," the young man admitted.

"Who killed you? Did you see them?" the woman of Japanese descent insisted.

"I don't know." After a tiny pause, he seemed to remember something. "There was something behind me." Of course he wouldn't have seen his killer. Suzie was too smart to let herself be seen once, let alone twice. She always positioned herself behind them to kill them, and then she positioned herself behind their heads so they would never see her properly. And they were too focused on Toshiko, who was asking them questions, to care about who was holding their heads.

"Police said one stab wound in the back," Owen informed them. Perhaps they should've started with that, instead of bothering to bring back someone who hadn't seen their killer. Then, perhaps, Suzie wouldn't have to keep murdering people like she did, just to continue her research on the glove.

"So you didn't see anything," Tosh told the victim, just to confirm the facts.

"No." There was a small pause, during which the team exchanged looks, unsure of what to do next. That uncertainty was shared by John Tucker, who asked, "What happens now?"

"Thirty seconds," Suzie warned, again.

"But he didn't see anyone." Clearly, Toshiko was at loss. She had no idea what to do know. She was an expert at faking deaths, to protect Torchwood half-secrecy — thank you, Owen Harper — but when it came to simply being human… Wasn't this why Jack had hired her in the first place? In the end, though, Gwen had forgotten that part of her job. Torchwood had become her life. Even her death had been very Torchwood. Death by Torchwood. She thought she would die in a mission, perhaps capturing a rogue Weevil or something. But no. It was by pressing the wrong button on an alien artefact. How brilliant was that?

"Don't waste it," Suzie told her.

"What else do I say?" the tech genius asked Jack and Owen. The former crouched in front of the dying victim, a clear thought in his mind.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"John. John Tucker," the young man answered.

"Okay, John. Not long now."

"Who are you?" Tucker demanded.

"Captain Jack Harkness." Oh yes. "Tell me, what was it like when you died? What did you see?" The young man didn't answer. "John, tell me what you saw," Jack insisted. Of course Jack would want to know. Despite all the times he'd died, he never really stayed, did he? So, of course, he wanted to know what death was like. Because he didn't really remember what it was. He remembered dying, and then waking up. But that was it. He had told her once. And it certainly explained his question to poor John Tucker.

"Ten seconds," Suzie counted down.

"Nothing. I saw nothing. Oh, my God. There's nothing." With those last words, John Tucker returned to the shadows of death, all alone. Gwen swallowed. She had never thought she would see this again. His death was simple. He exhaled one last time, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he lost consciousness… for good. Those words panicked her. If there was nothing, then why the hell was she here, watching her fallen comrades, the very first time she saw them? Why was the universe doing this to her?

It started raining once more, but the brunette barely noticed it. "Shit. I said it was stupid, telling him he was dead," Owen commented, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Well, you try it," Tosh shot back as she got back up.

"'Trust me', like that's gonna work!" Owen stood up as well. Gwen was reluctant to admit he was right. There was no way he would trust her if she told him he was dead. But what else could Tosh have done at the time? She wasn't an expert at talking to people who'd recently died. Wasn't this just the third murder? Dear God… She had scolded Andy for not thinking about the dead man, and here she was, talking about it as if it was something simple, of little importance? Another thing she realised at her age was how hypocritical she could be at times. And clearly, that included now that she was young again. Gwen took a deep breath, focusing back on her old friends.

"Told the last corpse he was injured, he wasted the whole two minutes screaming for an ambulance. Maybe there's no right way of doing it." Jack looked up just then, looking at her right in the eyes. "What do you think?" he shouted, loud enough so she would hear him over the sound of the pouring rain. At first, she was frozen in fright. Next, she wanted to run off. But she wouldn't do that again. No, she knew that look. He was challenging her, sizing her up. He wanted to see how she would react. Well, Jack, Gwen thought, challenge accepted.

"Bringing people back from the dead is wrong. Of course there is no right way of doing it," Gwen shouted back, well aware the rest of the team had laid eyes on her the moment Jack shouted his question. Before he could answer, Gwen ran away, like last time. Jack was planning this whole little game down to the smallest detail. But Gwen knew exactly what he was doing, and she knew better. Suddenly, instead of feeling old, older than everything around her, she felt young. She felt she had been given a chance to fix her mistakes, and do the right thing. Only a fool would reject that opportunity.

Whatever you're planning, Jack, I'm ready, she thought to herself as she ran back to the police station. Bring it on.