The first thing to greet Tosh when she opens her eyes is the sight of a disheveled Ianto.
So obviously she jumps to the conclusion that they have about five minutes to avert impending doom.
As a woman of science, Tosh doesn't put too much trust in signs and portents. But she does put stock in the idea that the universe fundamentally operates on patterns. The last time Ianto's clothes were this dirty, they'd all nearly been eaten by cannibals. And there was the time before that when he'd ruined his suit and a Cyberman almost deleted them.
Patterns.
The sense of disaster approaching is only heightened when Tosh realizes that it feels like her skull is about to re-enact John Hurd's famous scene from Aliens. She means to ask the appropriate questions like, "What's going on?" "What's trying to kill us?" and "How many are there?" But she can only groan pitifully.
"Tosh, you awake?" she hears Ianto asking. Normally his voice is soft on her hearing, but right now, it feels like a Weevil is gnawing at her ear drums. There's also the noise of what sounds like a cat dying in the background.
She manages to get out a "What happened?" and is able to pay enough attention to Ianto's answer to pick up that everyone's back at the Hub and there actually isn't a crisis happening, despite appearances. The word 'Simleetian' is mentioned and vague parts of the events prior to this start filtering through. Something about clowns shooting people downtown with ray guns? But before she can think on it any further, she notices that Ianto's holding out a cup toward her.
"You'll need to drink this. It'll make you feel better," he says, although Tosh is wondering why there's an apologetic look on the Welshman's face. She takes a sip from the cup whose contents smell like coffee and nearly spits the mouthful back out.
"Oh, god!" she gasps. "That's vile!" Maybe the world was ending. Since when did Ianto make such terrible coffee?
"It's mixed with some herbs they said would help with your head."
"They?"
"The Simleetian."
That word again and Tosh's memory sharpens a little more. Right, the Simleetian. The things downtown with ray guns.
"Clowns?" Tosh manages to croak.
Ianto gives her a slight smile. "Not really. They were in disguise. Their research told them humans responded favorably to that look."
"They need to do better research," Tosh mutters. She grimaces when Ianto pushes the cup in her hands toward her face again, but takes another sip. It tastes as terrible as before, but she starts to feel the pounding in her head fade a little. Looking at her surroundings again, she realizes that she was sitting on the couch in what was once Jack's office and now in the midst of remodeling. Mainly meaning most of Jack's belongings were halfway in boxes. "Where are they? Did we…"
"They've gone off," Ianto says, watching her take another mouthful of the coffee. "Gwen's talking to the PM now about it," he adds, nodding toward the boardroom. "They weren't here to attack us apparently. Just came to Earth looking for a party."
"Then why did they shoot at us?"
"Those weren't weapons. They're chemical stimulators. A big recreational fad on their planet, apparently. Supposed to give you a nice, pissed feeling."
Taking one more gulp, Tosh feels the last of her headache dissipating. "That wasn't nice. And I didn't feel pissed at all," she says sourly.
"Apparently it's a little too strong for human bodies at full blast. You skipped pissed and went straight to pass out and hangover," Ianto replies, taking the cup from her. "They were very sorry about the whole thing."
Tosh eyes the state of Ianto's appearance. "What happened to you?"
At the question, Ianto self-consciously straightens what's left of his tie. "Hugging's a big way of saying hello for them, apparently. Only they're a little too overenthusiastic. Owen stun gunned one before it cracked any ribs."
"Stun gunned?" she asks, worriedly.
At that Ianto gives her a lopsided, bemused grin. "They enjoyed that. We gave them one as a going away gift."
"Sounds like I missed quite a party."
"Not exactly what I'd put down as a good time, but they didn't try to eat us or annihilate the human race so it's a nice change of pace.
Looking at the smile plastered on the Welshman's face, Tosh notices that despite how rumpled he appears, he looks pretty pleased. Granted, he also looks exhausted, but he seems almost relaxed, which is a marked shift from how he normally seems after a field mission. The thrill of not nearly dying must be working on him, Tosh thinks. This is the first job they've gone on since Jack where they all made it out without bleeding. Tosh wonders if she should be disturbed by the fact that she feels a little melancholy about that. Like the end to a chapter in their lives.
Now that her head's a little clearer, the howling sound in the background is all the more persistent. "What IS that noise?" she demands.
A smile on Ianto's face becomes a slightly pained smirk. "That's Owen singing. He got sideswiped by one of the chemical stimulators himself."
Singing? Tosh strains her hearing a little and can now make out what she thought was an alien mating ritual is indeed the physician, caroling at the top of his lungs about being a lumberjack and how that was okay. Seeing the agonized look on Tosh's face, Ianto gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "He has to get tired and fall asleep sometime."
"We could always stun gun him," Tosh mutters, pressing a hand to her eyes. She can hear Ianto chuckling a little and gives him a wobbly grin in return.
"Want anything?" Ianto offers. "I think Gwen's probably going to send us home soon, but I can make you a proper coffee."
The thought of good coffee is tempting, but Tosh's tongue is still recovering from the mixed sensation of coffee beans and what tasted a lot like oysters gone bad. "I don't suppose you can do me a tea instead?" she requests.
"Black, green or barley?"
"I'll take green, thanks."
After Ianto goes, Tosh presses her hands to her face to try and push out the last of her headache. Owen's loud braying about putting on women's clothing and hanging out in bars doesn't help, but she smiles nonetheless into her fingers. The couch she's still on dips a little and Tosh looks up to see Gwen sitting next to her.
"Alright?" she asks, keeping her voice thoughtfully low. At the small but kind thought, Tosh feels a small spike of warmth toward the other woman.
"Much better now that I've drunken that concoction the Simleetian left behind," Tosh answers.
Gwen makes a sympathetic face. "We had to give those out to all the affected bystanders along with the Retcon. It looked like it tasted awful."
"I won't be able to drink coffee for a few days, I think."
The conversation trails off a little as Tosh runs out of things to say. Despite being the only other woman on the team, she never found it all that easy to talk to Gwen. The former policewoman was certainly nice, but her life seems so different from anything Tosh has ever known. Not just her having a nice, normal fiancé, but her abilities to be so personable and to be able to fit right in so easily. For all the years of experience Tosh had over her as a member of Torchwood Three, it had taken Gwen all of one week to make her feel (albeit unintentionally) like an outsider amongst the team. She'd envied and maybe even resented it before, being the last person to fully let go of the idea that the old team and the old system was gone. Now, Gwen's ability to be so well-integrated is keeping them all from losing focus in the wake of Jack's abandonment of them.
Tosh wishes she could hate Jack a little more readily, like the way Owen seems to these days. She wishes she didn't still consider this area his office. She wishes that she didn't immediately think he would have loved meeting the Simleetians and their ray gun chemical stimulators. Or regale them with a story about how he already had once met them and how the encounter ended with everyone ending up naked or in jail or hanging upside down or having sex or a combination of all those things.
She wishes that sometimes she didn't feel like she was again, the last person to let go.
"Honestly, aliens disguised as clowns to make themselves appear non-threatening?" Gwen continues on, next to her. "Most bloody terrifying thing I've ever seen."
She hears Gwen expel a huge breath and realizes this is the first mission Gwen's done as leader where the actual public got dragged in. It wasn't one of the smaller alien-related incidents that Torchwood could just intercept and quietly tuck away. Mass hysteria, chaos, government officials going spare were all involved. And she'd handled it. They had handled it. The thought gave Tosh some pride.
"Why did they think Earth responded well to clowns again?" Tosh asks conversationally.
"They'd gotten hold of some transmissions for a children's program that had a clown in it."
"Shame they didn't get a hold of something else instead to base a disguise off of. Like the Pirates of the Caribbean films maybe."
"Oooh, a spaceship full of Johnny Depps," Gwen beams. "Lovely."
"Or Kiera Knightlys," Tosh adds without thinking.
Gwen's surprised, but warm laughter is interrupted by something crashing near the autopsy bay.
"Oi! Who moved the table HERE?" Owen's voice demands.
"I got it," Ianto's slightly exasperated tone states before Gwen or Tosh can move from their seat. "Owen, you throw up and I'm going to leave you to drown in it."
"Then you'd have to clean up the vomit and a dead body, Teaboy. Let's see how you like that."
Tosh shakes her heard. Only Owen would use his own dead body as a threatening leverage.
By the time Ianto reappears, he's even more disheveled from having dragged Owen toward the main area couch, but manages to look dignified as he presents Tosh with her tea. Taking it, she smiles at the thought that somethings just never really change.
"Do you two want to run along home?" Gwen asks. "Owen'll probably crash here and I'm nearly done with the paperwork."
The way Gwen asks the question, it sounds more like an unspoken request for them not to go. It had been a big night for her, especially with having to deal with the PM. And the only ones she could really share it with were all under the roof at the moment. Suddenly Tosh finds she doesn't want to go home just yet herself. Her bones are aching and a hot shower about now sounds superb. But the idea of just leaving doesn't appeal to her very much. She gives Gwen a quick smile. "I'm not so tired," she lies a little. "I could help with the report if you need me to."
Gwen gives her a grateful grin. "That'd be brilliant, Tosh, thank you."
"If you're hungry I can order from the Chinese place. They're still open, I reckon," Ianto offers.
"Why don't we all have dinner first, then," Tosh suggests and then glances at her watch. "Or…a midnight snack? We can try and sober Owen up. Give him some of that horrible drink if we have to."
"That's just for the hangover," Ianto corrects. But he pauses when he hears sounds of Owen launching into another Monty Python song. "But why hold back?" he revises. "Might as well try."
As ludicrous as it is, the evening is starting to remind Tosh of a night in university when she and a few mates stayed up all night just after exams, minus the whole non-lethal clowns segment. Ordering takeout and relaxing after such a grueling few weeks and cramming into one person's room, almost like a sleepover.
But as it was like that night all those years ago, Tosh feels warmed. And amongst friends. Even if one is missing.
THE END