This was written before Torchwood hit our screens, and expands on the brief scene shown on Doctor Who Confidential. In hindsight, its clear I was wide of the mark, but I like to think this fic still stands up on its own.

WELCOME TO THE HUB

It had seemed like a good idea at the time – to track a member of a top-secret organisation to their headquarters. No one knew much about Torchwood, or if they did no one was giving anything away. So she had gone out on her own. Looking back now with hindsight, she realised that she had gone ahead with a half formed idea, with no real thought as to what she would do next.

"Sorry if I'm a bit late. I've brought the pizza," she'd announced.

"Who for?"

The hesitation was barely noticeable, she felt. "For Mr Harkness?"

The man facing her had spoken into an intercom system. "Jack, did you order a Pizza?"

"Yeah," came the reply. "Send it through."

The man turned to her. "You can go through."

Only when she had gone halfway down the corridor did the first pangs of doubt hit her – where the heck was his room? Presumably the regular delivery boy knew the route backwards. She felt as though she were caught in a trap, but not yet ensnared. If she could brazen it out for just a bit longer… "There you are," he'd called, just ahead. "How can you get lost walking down a corridor?"

She stepped forward, seeing him in the light for the first time. Not bad looking, she thought, then put that thought firmly to the back of her mind. "I'm new," she quickly replied. "I've never delivered here before."

"That explains it," he said. "I thought I hadn't seen you around here before - officer."

He had walked around her so that he was now facing her directly, with the door behind her now closed. "You're not from the Pizza place," he stated, matter of factly. "I know all the staff who work there – I make it my job to know – and you're not one of them. Plus, I didn't actually order a Pizza tonight." He opened the top box. "Mmm, not a bad choice, though." He nodded toward the chair beside her. "You might as well sit down, Ms Cooper. No point in being uncomfortable."

After a moment, she had sat down. So, he knew her name. What else did he know? And was there any point in asking? Not that she was exactly in control of the situation at that point, she reminded herself.

And all the while he had sat there, staring at her. Not in any demeaning way. "I can't quite make up my mind," he said at last. "I don't know if you're a security risk or not."

"Me?" she exclaimed, finding her voice. "I ought to say the same about you, and this…"

"Torchwood?"

"If you like?" She met his stare, saw the twinkle in his eyes, but there was something else – something deeper beneath the flippant attitude.

"I guess you've been watching us for a while, trying to figure us out," he said. "Would it surprise you to know that we've been doing the same?" He picked up a file from the desk and read from it. "Gwen Cooper – nice name, Gwen." He handed the dossier to her. "Maybe you should read it through, just to check we've got our facts straight."

As Gwen scanned through the contents, it was as if she were reading her whole life story. How had they managed to acquire so much information about her in so short a time? She would have protested at such an invasion of privacy, but then hadn't she been doing the same thing, albeit less successfully? "You've certainly done your homework," she said, replacing the file on the desk. "Why?"

"No, you first," he said. "Why have you been trying to find out about us?"

"I'm surprised you have to ask," she replied. "This Torchwood – it seems everyone knows about it, but knows nothing about what it does. And for the most part, people seem to accept it, as if it were part of the landscape."

He nodded. "And that's not enough for you?"

"Given my background – which you seem to know a lot about – do you think I could let it go?" She couldn't understand his attitude. "If some secret organisation like this sprang up out of nowhere, wouldn't you at least be curious about it – what its agenda was?"

"I guess so," he admitted. "So you're the one who's going to expose what goes on here?"

"If I have to," she rallied. "I've picked up a few bits and pieces of information – about this place, and about you. You were seen in Cardiff's Millennium Centre when a huge earth tremor struck just over a year ago, but some reports list you as being a member of the Royal Air Force at the height of World War II." She could hardly believe she was accusing him of existing in two different times, let alone the separate locations. "The same face, with the same name. What have you to say about that?"

He studied her from behind the desk, with that infuriating smile of his. "My, you have been busy," he commented. "Quite the detective – which is fair enough, given your line of work."

She was unnerved by that stare. And yet she felt under no threat from him, despite the circumstances. She was also aware that he hadn't denied her accusations. "So, what happens now? Am I to be sent away like some naughty schoolgirl, with a warning not to tell tall tales? Because I warn you, I don't usually respond to threats." She wished she were as brave as she sounded.

"No threats," he promised. "You're a bright girl, and persistent – you've pieced a few scraps of information together, and it's taken a lot of gall for you to make it this far. The question is, what do you intend to do next?"

"What would happen to me if I decided to go public with what I know?" she countered.

"That would be your choice," he told her. "But you need to look at the bigger picture. Okay, you know a little about us, but I doubt that you really appreciate what it is that we do." He thought for a moment, and then stood up. "I want to show you something," he said, crossing to the door. "If, after that, you still decide on a front page expose for the tabloids, then I won't stop you."

She looked at him, trying to find some trick behind the smile. But there was nothing. So she followed him.

Ten minutes later they were back in his office. "Well?"

She was still digesting what she had seen in those brief minutes. It was a life form that she could find no words to describe. But she had seen it. No hologram, no hidden camera tricks. It had stood there facing her, and had seemed to regard her with curiosity. "It was all real," she gasped, finding her voice. "What was that thing?"

"We don't know – well, not yet anyway. Apparently it's called a Hoix." He leaned forward across the desk, an earnest expression on his face. "I don't expect you to like what we do here. Hell, I don't always enjoy it myself. But Torchwood is not a threat to the world, Ms Cooper. We're here to do some good."

"All very fine words," she said, uncertain. "But you still haven't told me what is it that you do."

He relaxed slightly. "Well, you have to cast your mind back to the sixties. When America started its space programme, Earth got itself noticed. And if you accept that humanity isn't the only form of intelligent life in the universe, then you'll appreciate that there are many more life forms who want to make contact. Some good, some not so good. So we investigate stuff. The kind of stuff that the world needs to be protected from.

"You've probably heard of UNIT - the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce." She nodded. "Well, we're a step up from that, but like UNIT we're funded by the Government – and that can be a double-edged sword sometimes." He seemed lost in thought for a moment, as though recalling a bad memory. "Torchwood is run by the good guys, Ms Cooper. It's just that, given what we do, we don't want to advertise ourselves to the ordinary Joe in the street. And no one wants to start a panic."

It was a lot for her to take in. Certainly, her original beliefs about Torchwood had taken a severe knock-back. "Aren't you taking a risk in telling me all of this?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But I don't think so. Now that you've got some real understanding about our work here, you can see the need for secrecy."

"And you trust me enough to let me go?"

"Do you trust us enough to keep our secret?"

She hesitated. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "You've given me a lot to think about, and I need some time."

He nodded, then seemed to come to a decision. "Maybe you could think about something else too – a proposal, if you like. You've proved yourself to be resourceful and willing to take a gamble. Why no think about channelling that resourcefulness in a different direction, and maybe help us out occasionally?"

Now she was caught by surprise. "Are you asking me to come and work for you?"

"Think of it as working on the outside in," he suggested. "Remember what I said about working for the Government being a double-edged sword? There are always stories of cover-ups for the public good, but what if it's more than that? With your background, you're free to move around places that others can't. Who knows, you might be in a position to uncover a few home truths on your own doorstep."

She said nothing. Partly because she hadn't decided on her reply, but also because she agreed with what he had said about cover-ups – on more than one occasion questions had been left unanswered over certain Government decisions which had made her suspicious, though she had never been openly critical before now. Perhaps it was time for a change of tack.

Finally, she rose from her chair and extended her hand. He completed the handshake – she could have sworn he muttered something about a Doctor and the dangers of flirting – as he gave her a welcoming smile. "I guess we can take that as a 'yes' – Ms Cooper?"

"I suppose we can - Captain Harkness."

"Call me Jack," he said. "And welcome to the Hub."