LOST INSIDE

A long weekend on Jersey might have been the perfect romantic break. It wasn't the best time of year in terms of the weather, but the scenery was beautiful, the sea looked wonderful - if cold - and the hotel was the best that she had ever stayed in. As she stood outside, gazing at the breaking waves, Gwen almost had to remind herself that it wasn't a break; and certainly not a romantic one. To begin with she was supposed to be here to work, and for another thing her boyfriend was miles away back home in Cardiff. She felt bad about that, especially since she had lied to him about coming here. For one complicated reason after another, he thought that she was on an outward bounds course in the Lake District. Just another lie... she thought to herself, with a rather worrying lack of true guilt. It hadn't begun that way; not exactly. There was so much of her life nowadays that he didn't know about, though, and it was hard to stop the lying once it had begun. Her every day was a lie, as she set off to the job that he knew nothing about, in the secret subterranean headquarters that almost nobody knew anything about, with her colleagues that even she knew very little about. She certainly couldn't tell Rhys that she was going away for a long weekend to investigate something that possibly had extraterrestrial origins. So at some point the work trip had become a "training course", the investigation had become a "management exercise", and Jersey - because it was somewhere that they had always talked about visiting together - had become "the Lake District". Why there, she wasn't sure. Possibly because it sounded outward boundsy. And poor Rhys, who was sweet and kind and thoughtful, and really didn't deserve all the lies, would never find out the truth. It wasn't as though he knew any of her colleagues, so there was nobody to let anything slip. Barring catastrophe, he would probably go on knowing nothing about what it was that his wife really did.

That was another thing that she felt bad about, she supposed, when she stopped to think about it. Torchwood didn't exactly go in for parties, though. You didn't bring your significant other along to meet your co-workers, or invite them to meet you in the canteen to share lunch. The mere thought of Rhys with most of her new colleagues made her smile. She could probably count on Toshiko and Ianto to behave. Owen you could never be sure about. And Jack... Well, that was something different altogether. Gwen had no doubt that Jack would behave perfectly, and would be utterly charming. He was rarely anything else. To have him meet with Rhys, though, would be to bring the whole of her cobweb of lies falling down in pieces all around her; she was quite sure of that. There was no way to maintain even the pretence of normality when Jack was around. Somehow, whenever he strode into a room, a whirlwind of mysteries and weirdness swept in alongside of him. Her life changed every time he was with her. Doors opened, possibilities awoke, questions and answers and oddities blossomed everywhere. She was different, when she was with Jack, and she didn't want Rhys to see that. Not yet. Not until she was sure that they were ready. And if a working trip to Jersey still had to be an outward bounds course in the Lake District... well then they certainly weren't ready yet. Part of her doubted that they ever would be.

"Gwen?" It was Ianto, appearing beside her as he so often did, without so much as a sound. He had used to make her jump, when she had first joined Torchwood. Nowadays she was used to him, although he still succeeded in catching her by surprise. There was something almost unearthly about Ianto Jones. She had no idea where he lived, or what he did with his leisure time, and yet she saw him every day at work. He was always there when she arrived in the morning, and he was always still there when she left. A looming, silent presence in a neat, dark suit. He was still wearing the suit now, even though they were supposed to be blending in - although, being Ianto, he could probably blend in wearing a tutu and a fright wig. His talent for being unobtrusive was second to none. She smiled at him now, and wished that he was easier to get to know. Somehow there always seemed to be a barrier between them, that she could never quite define.

"Ianto." She smiled at him as warmly as she could, his response the same as always. He had a dry sense of humour, and she had seen him joke with Jack more than once; but all she ever seemed to get, especially nowadays, was this air of slight formality, with a hint of nervousness. There were bridges that needed mending; she knew that. She just wasn't sure how to go about mending them. Perhaps she should ask Jack. Perhaps she should just let things be. It was frustratingly difficult to know.

"Jack wants us." He was gone again almost as soon as the message was delivered, striding off the patio and back into the hotel, his neatly shined shoes reflecting the bright sun at every step. Like a butler, she mused to herself - or like she had always assumed a butler to be. She had never actually met a real one.

"Hang on, then!" She hurried after him, but he had already managed to get almost impossibly far ahead. He waited politely by the lift, and then stood in silence all the way up, somehow discouraging conversation. It wasn't easy, she supposed. After all, she had recently conspired with the rest of their colleagues to kill his girlfriend, which wasn't the sort of thing that would usually improve workplace relations. Probably. The fact that his girlfriend had turned into a cybernetic monster that intended to destroy humanity didn't appear to make him feel any better about the loss. She sympathised with that, she supposed. Fortunately she had never had a lover turn into a murderous cyborg, so there wasn't much frame of reference; not that she wanted any. For a moment the image of Rhys lying dead in Lisa's place crept into her mind, and she shut down that train of thought in an instant. She wanted conversation, to help keep such thoughts at bay, but Ianto seemed to prefer the yawning silence. She didn't blame him for that, either. In the end she faced the doors all the way up, waiting for them to open. Nearby, Ianto did the same. Neither of them was sorry when the lift jerked itself to a halt. The sighing of the opening doors make it sound as though the lift was glad to be rid of them.

They all had rooms on the fifth floor, in a row with windows facing the sea. One of the perks of Torchwood's impressive budget, perhaps, or possibly of their oddly widespread reputation. Ianto knocked sharply on the door of Jack's room, between Gwen's and his own, then opened the door without waiting for an answer. He held it open for Gwen, like the perfect, mannered butler, and she offered him a brief smile of thanks. He didn't seem to be watching. Typically his attention already seemed elsewhere.

"Jack?" Their leader was nowhere to be seen. Gwen looked around the room as though expecting him to appear out of nowhere - which, Jack being Jack, wouldn't entirely have surprised her. The room already looked well lived in, though they had been here for little more than a day. The coffee table was covered in computer print outs and cardboard files, there was a lap top on one chair and a palm top on another, and several larger sheets of paper were stuck to a nearby wall. One was a map, another a sea chart, and a third was a series of technical specifications, detailing a number of pieces of alien technology. Gwen had studied them several times, both before and after leaving Cardiff, but they still didn't make any sense to her. She consoled herself with the thought that they were alien, but she couldn't help thinking that they would have been just as unfathomable to her if they had been the specifications of her own fridge.

"Sorry about the mess." He had been standing on the balcony, and for a moment she wondered if he had been watching her, perhaps amused at her obvious lack of comprehension. She quelled the thought immediately. That infernal wrist gadget of his was open, and one hand rested on its keys. He had been working, then; scanning for something, probably. She might have been better able to guess had she known anything at all about what exactly the wrist gadget thing did - other than everything, which seemed to be the case. Even Toshiko, the team's resident gadgetry expert and self-confessed techno-geek, didn't have a clue. Gwen rather supposed it to be alien, which was something of a contravention of Torchwood rules, at least as she understood them. It was easy to pass off as something ordinary, though; it wasn't as if any ordinary civilians would see a man wandering around the streets with alien technology strapped to his wrist. Most of the time it looked like a wide leather wristband, brown and slightly battered. Only when he opened it up was the full array of buttons revealed. He seemed to know how to use it. There were lots of things that Jack knew how to use. Gwen tended to file roughly half of the things that she encountered with Torchwood as "Things that Jack understands". The other half she was still working on.

"Made any progress?" she asked, nodding at the wristband. If she treated it as something ordinary, and pretended that she understood its basic function, maybe he would let something slip. It was a good theory, or seemed it. Not that it was showing any signs of working as yet.

"Some." He flashed her one of his usual dazzling grins, the kind guaranteed to make knees melt and hearts beat faster, though as usual there wasn't any follow through. It was a flirtation of a kind, sure enough; but she had come to the conclusion that Jack Harkness flirted with everyone and everything as a matter of course. It was like an instinctive reaction.

"So is the stuff still on the island?" asked Ianto. The question caught Jack's attention immediately, and his bright blue eyes switched their gaze to the younger man. As usual, Gwen felt a burst of disappointment. Jack was weird and unfathomable and distant and difficult, and very probably dangerous - but to feel the warmth of his stare, or to be the target of his smile, was somehow special. No matter how many strange things she found out about him; no matter how often he confused or even frightened her; there were still times when he could make her feel like a schoolgirl caught in the bright heat of a new crush. She had tried a hundred times to tell herself to grow up, but it never did any good. Like it or not, she was attracted to him. She just wished that she knew how he felt about her.

"I don't think so, but the readings are good." Jack tapped a few buttons on his wrist device, then after a brief glance at the screen, and an apparently satisfied listen to a series of sharp beeping noises, he flipped the thing shut and strode over to the sheets stuck to the wall. "I got some strong signals earlier, and I'd say they were about here at the time." He tapped a point on the map, and Ianto nodded slowly. Knowing Ianto, he had probably already memorised the layout of the entire island, and knew its geography intimately.

"There are some good places to launch a boat in that area," he observed, for all the world as though he had heard Gwen's unvoiced suspicions, and was confirming them. Jack nodded.

"I know. I thought we'd hire a boat today. Take a trip out, and see what we can see."

"I'll get right onto it." Ianto headed for the phone, apparently needing no further prompting. Jack gave a satisfied nod.

"Thanks. Gwen?"

"I've talked to the receptionist and several other staff members. A few guests as well. None of them show any signs of knowing anything." It was always good to slip into such familiar territory, and give herself the chance to feel like a real professional again. This was the sort of thing that she had been trained for; police work of a sort. Even now, after all that she had seen and learnt as a member of Torchwood, she was still out of her depth far too often. This, though - this she understood. Asking the right questions, watching as carefully as she listened, eliminating suspects all the while. It was always nice to find your feet, when you spent so much of your time trying not to flounder. "It's not easy, mind, questioning people when I don't really know what we're looking for."

"Smugglers," said Jack, as though this was the answer to everything. She shot him a dirty look, and he smiled. "Yeah, I know. But it's all we've got."

"But are they the type to sell their wares out of the back of a van, or are they more respectable? This is an island of businessmen. There are always deals going on here. A lot of money changing hands, and easy access to mainland Europe. If they're the dodgy kind they're going to keep to themselves; and one more group of respectable businessmen wouldn't necessarily turn any heads. Either way, it doesn't help us all that much."

"Yeah. That's what I figured." Jack turned back to look at the map on the wall, absently tracing a path with one finger. "There's a lot of technology on the market these days, too. Most people won't know what's human and what's alien. We can't really rely on witnesses here."

"Then why get me to question people?" asked Gwen. He shrugged.

"Covering all the bases. You're a good police officer, Gwen. Might as well use that."

"But as you're so fond of reminding me - this isn't police work."

"I don't know." He turned to look at her, eyes bright, lips twisted into a half smile. "We're hunting smugglers. That's almost police work. Just because it's alien technology that they're smuggling doesn't really change that."

"Maybe we should liase with the local police, then," she suggested, only half-joking. "We needn't tell them what it is that we're tracing. They know the area. They might be able to help."

"Er, yeah." Sarcasm gleamed in the bright blue eyes. "Any luck with that boat, Ianto?"

"There'll be one ready for us in an hour." The younger man set the receiver down with a sharp click, rejoining the other two. "Do we have a plan?"

"Other than floating about at sea, and hoping that we spot something, you mean?" Gwen couldn't resist the jibe, though she knew that she probably should. Jack smirked, apparently sharing her amusement.

"You might wanna try remembering the sort of equipment we've got," he pointed out. "That alien tech so much as beeps, and we're going to get an exact fix in seconds."

"And if it doesn't beep?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Well then we'll float about at sea for a bit, and hope that we spot something. It's a nice day."

"... Right." She couldn't help smiling at that. Even Ianto's lips twitched, in something approaching a upward movement. Gwen hadn't seen Ianto smile at anything much since the death of his girlfriend, Lisa - and whilst that was understandable enough, it was a relief to think that the ice might be melting again. Jack clapped him on the shoulder.

"Bring the car around," he ordered, keeping his tone light. "We'll get the stuff together and meet you out front in a few minutes."

"Right you are, sir." With a brisk nod, Ianto was gone, the swinging door making more noise than he had. Gwen watched it click shut before turning back to her companion - by which time he had moved half the room away, and was busy rummaging through a big black bag.

"Why'd you bring him along?" she asked. She had been wondering for some time why Jack had made such an apparently eccentric choice of travelling companions for this mission. Her answer was half a shrug and a bright smile.

"You gotta admit he's nice to look at on long car journeys."

She sighed, faintly exasperated. "That's not the reason you brought him." An eyebrow raised itself in faint amusement, and she scowled. "Well it's not the only reason you brought him. I thought he was... I don't know. The office type."

"There's no such thing as the office type in Torchwood. I didn't want there to just be two of us, and I wanted Tosh back at base to watch the computers. And Owen gets seasick."

"He does?" This was news to her, and interesting. It had potential teasing value. Jack just shrugged.

"Maybe. Here, take these."

"What are they?" He had thrown her two black bags, and was already busy with some others. It amazed her at times just how much equipment they managed to store in their car - and she still didn't know what much of it was.

"Scanners." He tapped the first bag that he had given her. "More scanners." He tapped the second. "And a first aid kit."

"Oh, that's encouraging." She slung one of the bags over her shoulder. "What sort of first aid? Given that we've left our medic sitting in a cave underneath Cardiff."

"Hey, you get a splinter on that boat, and we're more than tooled up enough to pull it out." Pausing only to sling on his beloved RAF greatcoat, Jack collected up a pair of bags and headed for the door. "Come on. Don't want to keep Ianto waiting."

"I'm sure he'll find something to clean to help him pass the time." She followed on, down the corridor and back towards the lift. "Jack..."

"What?" He flashed her a smile, just as usual, but the distant look was in his eyes again. The one that meant he was thinking of other things. Work-related things, or alien-related things, or whatever exactly it was that occupied so much of his mind. She had every intention of finding out one day. All she had to do was work out how.

"These smugglers. Do they know what they've got?"

"Good question." He shrugged. "Met a guy once... very tall. He was selling Cryon energy units on the black market, and didn't have a clue what they were. Had to work my way round half of Cardiff trying to find out who he'd sold the things too, and get hold of them. One mis-pressed button and it could've led to a new ice age." He grinned suddenly, a memory making blue lights spark in his eyes. "He was a piece of work, though. Stole my watch and my wallet. Mind you, it was fun getting them back."

"And these people?"

"If I'm right about what they've got, they can't think that it's human technology. Even given humanity's instinct for self-deception, it'd take some imagination to explain it away as anything other than alien. No, I think they have some idea of what they've got. Whether they know what it does, though - that's a different question."

"So who are they selling it to? I mean, who is there who'd want to buy alien technology, knowing that it was alien?"

"You know that. You got the briefing back at base." The lift doors opened, and they stepped out into the lobby of the hotel before Gwen could answer. A passing tourist blinked uncertainly at the sight of the tall, RAF-greatcoated Jack, with his forties apparel beneath, and Gwen offered her a bright smile in return.

"I wouldn't exactly call that a briefing," she shot back, as soon as the tourist had moved out of earshot. "Tosh said something about private collectors, and Ianto had some photographs of some confiscated equipment. I mean, who are these private collectors? Are there other organisations like Torchwood out there? In other countries?"

"The Americans and the Russians have been trying to study alien tech for years, yeah, but this isn't them. They respect British sovereignty on the alien issue, and they always have." He grinned. "They're scared, actually. Britain's been an alien magnet for years. Anyway, organisations like that have their trademarks. This is nothing like that."

"So it's somebody hoarding stuff in his basement, then? Like an art collector who buys stolen paintings?"

"There are quite a few of them about, yeah." Jack shrugged. "Every so often one of them buys something really stupid, and disintegrates somebody. Hopefully themselves. Most of the time it's just about having bits of machinery on shelves, and trying to guess what they all do."

"Like us then." She couldn't hold back a smile. He gave a short laugh.

"Except we usually guess right, or don't need to guess at all. I don't remember the last time I sent a square mile of English countryside into another dimension by pressing the wrong button on something I'd stuck on a shelf."

She winced. "Oh. Did it ever come back?"

"Did what ever come back?"

"The square mile of English countryside."

"Oh." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing yeah. Otherwise England might be a bit worried about the big hole in the middle of it. Fortunately it wasn't exactly a population hotspot, so it didn't really get noticed in the meantime." He frowned. "Only ever found half the people, though."

"Still a bit like us, then." She blushed slightly, oddly eager to change the subject even though Jack was clearly amused. "I see Ianto."

"Yeah." Jack headed for the door of the hotel, and held it open for her. The bags were large and ungainly, and she was relieved when Ianto suddenly took them from her, heaving them into the back of the SUV as though they were no burden at all. Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll drive. You take a look through the computers, see if you can dig up some information for Gwen. Private collectors."

"Are we doing the hole in the middle of England story again, sir?" Ianto had one eyebrow arched in dry amusement. Jack grinned.

"Hey, it's a classic."

"Yes, sir. If you say so." Sliding into the back of the big vehicle, Ianto folded down one of the computer consoles, and tapped in a few commands. The others climbed in as well, and Jack gunned the powerful engine. "You'll have to excuse him," Ianto observed, as the SUV pulled out onto the road. "Tends to get a bit excited when he gets the chance to leave Wales for a bit. Give him another five minutes and he'll give you the story about the bloke in Aberystwyth who managed to send the cliff railway train into orbit."

"Best thing to do with it if you ask me." Jack eyed them both in the rear-view mirror. "Adaxian thruster, in case you're wondering. Luckily there was nobody on the train at the time." He smirked. "We never did get it back. The railway people still call every so often and ask where it is. I could tell them that it's well on its way to Venus by now, but I don't think that's the answer they're looking for."

"Venus?" She couldn't help thinking that they were joking with her, but Ianto nodded with unexpected enthusiasm.

"It's true. You can follow its progress on the scanners back at the Hub. It looks rather happy, sort of chuffing away across the solar system."

"You're insane, both of you." She folded down another of the computer screens, so that she could look properly at whatever data Ianto had called up. "I'm stuck on an island with two madmen who are determined to anecdote me to death."

"Some other time, maybe." Jack had one eye on the road and another on the dashboard. "Did you program in our destination, Ianto, or am I following some random route here?"

"I programmed it in, yes. Sorry, should have said." The young Welshman leaned forward, so that he could see out of the windscreen. "Shouldn't be all that far."

"No more than a couple more minutes, no." Jack glanced at Gwen in the rear-view mirror. "Read anything interesting yet?"

"It's incredible." She had seen no more than a few sketchy reports, but it was enough to show her that there was a far bigger trade in alien technology than she would ever have imagined. "All that time before I met you people, and I never even imagined that aliens had been to Earth. Well, of course I imagined it. Believed it, maybe. But this? There are people all over the globe who could be sitting on collections more deadly than all the weapons in the world."

"Yep." Jack swung the car off the main road, and headed down a far narrower turning. "Which is why, whenever I get wind of somebody smuggling alien tech, I shut them down. Some of this stuff is dangerous enough in the hands of people who don't know what it is. The wrong person gets hold of it... somebody who really wants to use it... and we'll be looking for a new planet to live on."

"Ouch." Somehow, with Torchwood, each new day seemed to bring at least half a dozen new revelations, and all of them had a habit of being off-putting. Her jokes back at the hotel seemed horribly misplaced now. Jack just flashed her a half smile in the rear-view mirror, before bringing the car to a halt.

"Looks like this is it." He was opening the door of the SUV and climbing out before the others had been able to make a move, both of them left behind, shutting down the computers and folding the keyboards and screens back out of the way. Gwen clambered at last out of the car, in time to see Jack striding away down a wooden jetty, his long coat swirling about his legs. At first, at the start of those impossibly long few months since they had met, she had thought that he was wilfully dramatic. Since then she had come to realise that it was just the way that he was. Jack Harkness didn't try to be dramatic. He didn't try to turn people's heads or command their attention; it was just the way that he was made. In a way she envied him. It suggested at a confidence that she had never possessed.

"We're supposed to find a Mr Roberts," said Ianto, already busy unloading the bags. "Do you see an office?"

"I assume that's it." Gwen nodded at a prefabricated building nearby. "Not exactly upmarket, is it. Is it a sense of solidarity that naturally leads Torchwood to haphazard organisations?"

"Very funny. I wanted somewhere close by, that didn't ask for too much paperwork. Anyway, I think it's got charm." Ianto dumped the bags in a pile, then instinctively straightened his suit. "Where's Jack?"

"Over there." She nodded towards the end of the jetty, were a man stood watching Jack's approach. He was dressed in the sort of clothing that tourists expected of the sailing fraternity, and held a clipboard in one hand and a mug of something in the other. "I wonder if that's the manager?"

"Probably. I doubt he has much of a staff." Ianto sighed, looking down at the pile of bags at his feet. "Oh well. We'd better get going then, I suppose."

"Let me take a couple of those." She headed around the car to join him, but by the time she reached him Jack was already on his way back down the jetty, the other man in tow. They were chatting like old friends, Jack's familiar warm grin melting its way through the usual social reserve. The grin turned itself onto Gwen and Ianto as Jack approached, and he reached down to lift up two of the bags almost without breaking stride.

"This is Toby," he announced, for all the world as though he were introducing an old friend. Toby nodded a greeting.

"I think you'll find the boat easy to handle," he said, revealing a rich Jersey accent with a pleasantly melodious tone. "It's the blue one. More than big enough for the three of you, and your..." His eyes trailed to the four big bags, "your equipment." He didn't ask, though his curiosity was plain. "Well, if you'll just sign here, er, captain."

"Sure." Jack took the clipboard, signing with a flourish and a smile. "See you later. I don't know when we'll be back."

"I'll be here." For a second Toby seemed about to say more, then smiled awkwardly and nodded a brisk farewell. "Weather reports are good. Good day to you." With that he strode away. Jack grinned rather roguishly at his retreating figure.

"Always did like sailors."

"I doubt he's ever been to sea in his life," commented Ianto. Jack shrugged.

"Details. Come on. We need to get moving. You did lock the SUV, right?"

"Locked it, set the alarm, and even remembered to bring the keys, sir." There was a trace of dry humour in Ianto's voice. Jack nodded.

"Just checking." He retrieved the two bags, and strode off towards the waiting blue boat. "Come on, then. Don't let's keep the smugglers waiting."

"Right you are, sir." Ianto collected up the last of the bags, and gestured for Gwen to precede him. She felt bad about leaving them to carry everything, but neither of them seemed exactly encumbered by the load. Possibly they were being chivalrous; possibly they were just being practical. She wasn't entirely sure that she cared.

The boat proved to be sturdy enough, and with more than enough room for the three of them and their bags. Ianto set about storing everything away almost as soon as his feet touched the deck, and Jack had the engine going almost as quickly. Gwen untied the lines, glad to be doing something useful, then settled back out of the way. It wasn't exactly a warm day, but the sun was bright, the sea was calm, and there didn't seem to be many other boats out. She was more than happy to relax for the time being. With all that she had just heard about the trade in alien technology, she had rather a lot to think about.

"Coffee?" It was Ianto of course, offering her an enamel mug filled with his by now familiar special blend. She couldn't help but smile.

"Do you ever go anywhere without coffee beans, Ianto?"

"Of course." He smiled his quiet little smile. "No coffee beans on the boat, so far as I know. I made this back at the hotel."

"I don't know what I did without you all those years." She took the mug, and sipped carefully. The coffee was hotter than she had expected. "Tastes like you just made it."

"Special Torchwood flask." He raised an eyebrow, and waved a black bottle at her. The ergonomics looked peculiar somehow, as though it hadn't quite been designed for a hand the size of Ianto's. Gwen blinked.

"Is that..."

"Alien, apparently. Not what I expected to find in the debris of a crash, but Jack says aliens like their hot drinks too." The young man shrugged. "And it works. Some sort of gel inside. Smells of roses."

"Fine..." Here they were, tracking down smugglers to prevent the possible dangers from the misuse of alien technology, and they were using some of that technology themselves, just to keep some coffee warm. She could almost have been uncomfortable with the implied hypocrisy of it, were it not for the fact that she trusted Jack. If he said it was safe, then it was safe. Somehow he just seemed to know these things.

"Something wrong?" asked Ianto. He was pouring a mug for himself, his dark eyes alternating between watching the level of the liquid, and watching Gwen. She shook her head.

"No, not really. It's just... well how does he know? You find a black bottle at a crash site, and he says it's a flask, and everybody just believes him. How does he know?"

Ianto shrugged. "Just knows, doesn't he. That's Jack. Anyway, just because they're aliens doesn't mean they're all that different, I reckon. Be nice to have a flask of coffee on a long journey like that, don't you think? Or whatever it is they drink on other planets."

"I suppose." She was momentarily amused by the idea of three-eyed, tentacled creatures sipping coffee, and gossiping on their way across the universe. The thought appealed to her. "You going to stay for a chat?"

"Maybe later." He suddenly looked awkward again, the way he did sometimes; as though he didn't always know what to say or how best to say it. Owen referred to it as the Shy Schoolboy Mode, but then, mused Gwen, with more than a trace of fond irritation, Owen would.

"Hey, Ianto!" Busy steering the boat, as though he had been doing so all his life, Jack suddenly called out. Ianto was back into Business Mode in an instant, somehow managing to pour a fresh cup of coffee for Jack, hand it to him, and cover the distance between them in what seemed to be little more than a blink of the eye. Jack took the coffee without the slightest hint of surprise.

"Thanks. Dig out the portable scanner, would you? The medium range one."

"Right." Ianto hauled the gadget out of one of the bags, setting it going with a flick of a big red switch. Gwen knew the long black box well, having watched Tosh build it more or less from scratch. Well - scratch and some small, orange, lozenge-shaped object that Jack had said was part of Deronovian assassination device. He had explained it with his usual flair, as though it were some new piece of office equipment - which in effect was what it now was.

"If we're scanning for alien tech, aren't we going to set off our own scanners?" she asked, going over to see if she could help in any way. Jack laughed.

"Thanks for the tip. We're lucky we've got you along, Gwen Cooper."

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere." She joined him by the wheel. "Shouldn't you be doing something clever with your wrist thing?"

"It's programmed. It'll tell me if it picks anything up."

"Other than us?"

"Other than us." He smiled at her; the usual smile that always warmed her deep inside. "Go ask Ianto for the radar gun. You can sit up front with it. Point it at things."

"And that'll do what exactly?" In her experience, radar guns were strictly for traffic control. Jack's eyes glinted bright blue over the rim of his coffee mug, as he paused to take a drink.

"It's not exactly an ordinary radar gun. It'll help us see what's out there, so we'll have some idea of where everybody is - whether they've got alien stuff with them or not. Just mind the setting. I want to detect boats near us, not in the Mediterranean. Level three ought to do it."

"Okay." She left him to his steering, and made her way back to her fellow countryman. Needless to say Ianto had heard, and had already fetched out the radar gun. It looked much like the kind used by the police, save for its rather more complex controls, and ubiquitous Torchwood "T" logo.

"Do you know how to use it?" he asked her. She nodded, hoping that it wasn't an outright lie. She knew how to use radar guns, certainly - and it was long past due that she started behaving less like a newbie who didn't understand everything as well as the others. He handed it to her and she headed off to her post. It was hard not to enjoy this, she realised, even though she was supposed to be here to work. She had a mug of coffee in one hand, a souped-up, interesting gadget in the other, and she was bobbing about on a beautifully clear blue sea. It was shaping up to be a rather fine day. Only then did she realise how long it had been since she had spared a thought for Rhys. And even then, she acknowledged, with a pang of regret, it was hard to summon any guilt.

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In a cave, where the sounds of the ocean filtered softly through the layers of rock, something stirred. There was no natural light in that place. The sun could find no cracks through which to shine. No phosphorescence lit the walls, and it had been a long time since any passing adventurer had brought a torch to see what was there. It was a lonely place, all but unknown. And yet it was not all darkness, for scattered about the ground, small, flickering lamps burned. Lamps to light the work of a creature that knew no night or day; a creature with senses that were not hindered by earth and solid rock. Feet scraped on the uneven ground; a ragged, drawn-out breath cut hoarsely at the silence. Something listened to the world outside; waiting for what was to come. A tongue flickered in the air. Black lips muttered unheard phrases. In the dank space beneath the earth, something was growing more impatient by the hour.

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