Author: gitania
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the BBC.
Author's Note: After a long coma, my Muse seems to have returned to me. I hope you all enjoy this one – I might do more with the Torchwood crew if my Muse decides to stick around! Oh, and please excuse some of my Australian spellings – I can't bear to let go of my language roots!
Background: This is slightly AU, towards the end of Season 2. Gwen got married, but Owen didn't die, and Ianto and Jack didn't get back together when he returned at the beginning of the season.
Summary: There's plans for a change at Torchwood, but who's pulling the strings? Is it the stranger with a link to Jack's past, or could it be one of their own?
Lost and Found
Chapter 1
It was freezing by the water tower at Roald Dahl's Plass. She couldn't feel her fingers inside her gloves anymore, and her toes were quickly following suit. Darkness was well and truly falling now, and she could feel tiny droplets of dew forming on top of her head as she waited. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and tucked it more firmly inside her coat.
She stamped her feet a little to keep the blood flowing, and the sound reverberated around the deserted square. Standing still again, she turned abruptly towards the sound of approaching footsteps that had been covered by the noise of her own stamping feet. Four sets of footsteps were coming closer, walking at a relaxed pace, bringing with them the sound of cheery voices.
"Still, got there in the end, didn't I?" laughed a woman, her Welsh accent cutting through the plaza.
"Only because of me," replied an Englishman, indignantly. "You would have been royally buggered if I hadn't been there."
She scoffed at him, and the sound echoed into the night.
"I happen to think I was the real hero of tonight's tale," came the lightly teasing tone of a Welshman as the footsteps approached from across the square.
"Yeah, mate, you drive us all around like you were born for it," said the first man sarcastically. "Most heroic chauffeuring I've ever seen."
"Play nice, children," a final voice warned, and her ears pricked up at the sound of it. A smooth, deep tone with an American accent. It brought back a thousand memories, and made her feel slightly warmer, despite the chilly air. She strained her eyes through the semi-darkness to get a better look at the approaching group.
The woman was walking arm-in-arm with a young, pale man who had a collar and tie showing beneath his coat. Her long, dark hair whipped around her in the wind, and she walked close to his side, hunched a little in the cold. Both of them were slightly flushed, and they walked with an air of easy companionship. He had a small frown on his face, but shook it off quickly as she nudged his side and smiled up at him.
A shorter man walked a couple of steps behind them, scuffing his shoes on the pavement as he crammed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He was more angular than the other two, with a large mouth that was twitching in a small smile.
Their leader was a tall man in a long, blue coat that swirled around his legs as he walked. He had dark hair and a strong jaw line, and was moving with long, purposeful strides across the square, slightly ahead of the rest. He had turned to look over his shoulder as he mock-scolded the others, and as he turned back he spotted her by the water tower. His blue eyes went wide, then immediately narrowed as he peered through the night.
He picked up his pace, taking in her appearance as he walked. She looked different than she used to. Her once-short hair had grown very long, and was plaited in a single braid that fell over her left shoulder and stopped at her waist. She was still slim and fairly small, but her face looked older than he remembered. More mature. She looked strong, too, holding herself with an easy confidence that she was still developing when he had seen her last. She had a dark grey coat wrapped tightly around her, with a thick scarf tucked into the collar. She watched him as he approached, her green eyes a bit uncertain.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in disbelief. His breath blew out in a cloud of mist as they looked at each other with growing smiles.
She didn't reply. She let out a short laugh, shaking her head as though she couldn't believe what was happening, and held her arms out to him. He enclosed her in a huge hug, wrapping his arms around her smaller frame and drawing her in close.
"I can't believe it's you," she whispered. Her crisp British accent was so familiar to him that he laughed out loud, and the soft, happy sound echoed around them.
She held onto him tightly, breathing him in, hardly able to believe it. Then they released each other, and he held a hand to her cheek, grinning uncontrollably as he took in her face.
His hand was warm and inviting, and she blushed a little under his gaze as she shook her head again. "My God," she grinned, "Jack Harkness!"