A/N: Sort of an alternate possibility for the outcome of Gwen's affair with Owen. I like her character, but I lost a lot of respect after she admitted it to Rhys, then retconned him, so I thought it'd be interesting to explore what might've been, incorporating some aspects of that scene, especially with an attempt to limit the endless Gwen-bashing opportunities this presents.

Also this is unbetaed, so please let me know about any grammar issues, typos, Britpicks, anything at all. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood and really don't have any money should you attempt to sue me.

Gwen fell to her knees, sobbing as the door slammed shut. The sound lingered in the room momentarily but soon that last trace of Rhys was gone and all she had was her own choked sobs.

It had started with a text message. One foolish, innuendo-laden message from Owen, which she had forgotten to erase from her mobile. Rhys had picked up her phone, mistaking it for his, and hadn't realized his mistake until he had gone to open his messages. She had run to the Hub to pick up her wallet, (resulting in a quickie in the parking lot) and when she had returned, Rhys was sitting on the couch waiting for her.

The fight had lasted all of ten minutes. He quietly demanded to know where she had been. She told part of the truth, that she'd left her wallet on her desk. He clearly hadn't believed her. Then she got defensive and it was then he had shown her the message.

There was no denying it then. The words glowed on her screen, clear and absolute. She said nothing for a long time and Rhys had broken down crying.

"Please tell me you didn't," he said, "You wouldn't do that."

Her mind frantically went through her options and she wished fleetingly for Retcon. But the damage was done and even if she'd given him the answer he wanted, he'd have never believed her.

So she bowed her head and sobbed, the words "I slept with Owen" coming out between ragged breaths. Rhys froze and the look on his face made her want to die. She cried harder, choking now, just wanting him to hold her and forgive her. A hand on her shoulder gave her slight hope, but when she looked into his eyes, she knew that wouldn't happen.

"I trusted you," Rhys said, his voice calm despite the tears on his face, "I put up with your long nights, your secrets, even your lies. I wasn't happy, but I did it because I loved you."

She couldn't look at him any longer; the shame burning in her chest was too much. That past tense.

"Not anymore, Gwen," he continued, "I'm done. You can have your special ops and your late nights and your – and your Owen. I'm finished with it."

He'd left her there on the couch, going into their room and closing the door. He emerged a few minutes later, wearing his coat and carrying a knapsack. She stood up.

"I'll be back tomorrow for my things," he said, his voice wavering slightly. He smiled. "But I suppose it doesn't matter, since you'll be at work anyway."

"Rhys…Rhys, please!"

His eyes narrowed and he looked at her, disgust evident. "No, Gwen." He said, "It's always about you, isn't it? All about Gwen's problems and Gwen's troubles. You never think about me. You fuck this Owen bloke and expect me to never find out. But I did, Gwen. I found out."

He flung his bag on his shoulder. "I'll be at Banana's. Don't call me."

With that, he walked out and she sank to her knees as the door slammed. She didn't know how long she stayed there, screaming and sobbing on the floor. It wasn't until what seemed like hours later that the buzzing of her phone reached her.

"Yes?"

"Gwen, it's Jack. We've got a Weevil or twenty spotted at St. Mary's. Can you meet us there in fifteen minutes?"

"Yeah."

"Good. See you there."

He hung up before she could respond and she sat there a moment longer, getting her bearings. Then she stood and headed toward the bathroom to wash up. She needed to hurry if she wanted to look presentable and get there on time. She couldn't screw this up, she realized as her stomach turned sickeningly. The job was all she had left.