Don't get me wrong, I actually quite like Miracle Day so far, it's just that to me it isn't Torchwood. And as most of the first few episodes had the idea of 'there is no Torchwood anymore', I thought I'd write a kind of epitaph for the old Torchwood. Some bits are more light-hearted than others, some bits verging on cheesy.
Torchwood is dead. Long live Torchwood!
Torchwood was there. There to defend and help the human race, mostly from aliens, but also from humans themselves.
Torchwood was in Cardiff. Gwen had always felt rather smug that out of the four Torchwoods in the British Isles it was the Welsh one that was still standing.
Torchwood was the smell of coffee in the morning. Specifically Ianto's coffee, which always seemed to magically appear whenever it was needed. Ianto always resented the nickname 'tea-boy'- tea was for the unsophisticated. Coffee was for kings.
Torchwood was a team. More than a team- it was a family. The only family Jack had left. Even Janet the Weevil was part of the family: she was the mad old relative kept under close watch in the attic. Or in Torchwood's case the basement.
Torchwood was ordering pizza at half four in the morning. Ordering pizza under the name of Torchwood was a tad more conspicuous than Jack would've liked, but the pizza was worth it. As well as saving the human race from numerous alien threats, Torchwood did a fair amount to put money into the local economy.
Torchwood was fun. Gwen couldn't remember a time she'd laughed more while working. Owen's constant pranks on Ianto and Ianto's continuous revenge never failed to amuse the rest of the team.
Torchwood was living off microwaved meals. Gwen always came back late from work, so Rhys had taken to eating without her and leaving plates of food in the microwave ready for her return. And Tosh never had much time for cooking. She mostly ate at work, but on the rare occasions she ate at home microwave meals were a godsend.
Torchwood was festive. A Christmas tree permanently stood in one corner, left over from a long ago Christmas. Since The Hub was on a rift through the fabric of time and space Jack figured it didn't matter if every day had a bit of Christmas in.
Torchwood was never really dying. Literally. Jack couldn't die, Suzie came back to life, and Owen continued to serve his planet long after he was shot dead.
Torchwood was driving around in an SUV, being less secretive than they should've been.
Torchwood was surreal. Gwen would never have dreamt of tuning up to her wedding with a gun concealed in her bouquet. But then she'd never dreamt of turning up pregnant, and ending up shooting an alien resembling her mother in law.
Torchwood was secret. Well, it was supposed to be- more people than there should've been knew about it. But The Hub was secret. Hidden underground, it served as a base for the team, as a home, as a sanctuary. Even on those rare occasions when The Hub wasn't as safe as it should be, it still felt like the safest place on Earth.
Torchwood was never really dying. Metaphorically. Gwen and Ianto would have died if Tosh's safety measures hadn't been in place; she hadn't needed to be alive to save their lives. And Jack could never forget Ianto. There had been countless lovers he'd long since forgotten the names of, but Ianto was different.
Torchwood was salvation. Torchwood had given new lives and new hope to Owen, Tosh, Ianto, and may others. Torchwood had been their second chance, the one they had wished for.
Torchwood was 24/7. Regular hours of nine to five didn't even enter the equation. Torchwood was always needed, and had to be ready.
Torchwood was fighting for the future, but the future wasn't fighting for Torchwood.
Torchwood was gone.