Hi you lot! So… it's raining here and I've just watched Torchwood, and I'm off school, so this just wandered into my head. Don't ask me who this girl is… I have a vague idea, so I'll carry this on if you guys want. But this could stay as a one-shot unless things really go pear-shaped. Janto, if anything, but… well, lets say romance is one of those things I can't write. Maybe later, I could give it a go if it comes into it. So here goes…

Disclaimer: Believe me when I say it's a good thing I Do Not – Repeat DO NOT- Own Torchwood. It belongs to the BBC and Russell T Davis. If I did, let's just say that it would be really, really bad. I'll just leave the Torchwood magic to RTD.

Maybe

Owen peeled his gloves off and sighed. The latest corpse was of a fifty-three year old man, one Barry Densey. The man had met a messy end in what Ianto was now going to call a car accident. In his defence, it had involved a car. Only… being roasted over your own engine by a bunch of - well, Jack called them Abrasoors, but Owen just thought of them as those giant spider-shaped liquid things. He was just filling out the relevant paperwork, when Ianto came to take the body down to the mortuary, somehow still pristine in a black suit, lilac shirt and silver tie.

"Jack says not to worry about doing an autopsy on those Abrasoors, the death certificates done, and you can go home if you want." Ianto reeled off, casting a gaze down at the unfortunate man on the slab.

"Poor sod." Owen followed his gaze. "Anyway, I'm off then." Flinging the half-done paperwork on his desk, he dived for the exit.

"Owen!" Jack yelled, stopping Owen in his tracks. Damn…

"What?" He yelled back, rolling his eyes, for the benefit of anyone watching.

"You need to see this." Jack began to bring up the CCTV of the cells on the nearest monitor. It showed, a girl in a cell next to a weevil. The last time he'd looked, she'd been chatting to it, behaviour Owen classed as weird, but not to be suspicious of. Now, she was crouched on the floor, coughing, struggling for air. She was shaking, and from what Owen could tell, attempting to breathe deeply, with little success. Owen swore.

"Where's her bag?" The girl had carried a purple bag over her shoulder when they'd brought her in. Owen had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was happening. Ianto grabbed the bag off the sofa and began to rifle through it. Finally, he pulled something blue and plastic from the pocket.

"She's asthmatic." Owen swore again, and, snatching the inhaler off Ianto, ran towards the cells. Ianto reached into the cupboard, pulling out a blanket, he snapped it open, and shook it out.

"What are you doing?" Jack looked bemused.

"If she's having an asthma attack, it's probably being brought on by the cold and damp down there, sir, not to mention if she feels stressed by being imprisoned in a secret base in the middle of Cardiff by a bunch of people who no one knows much about." He paused "What is she doing here?"

"I thought we talked about the sir?"

"Avoiding the question, sir?"

Jack glared. "How come you know so much about it?"

"Still avoiding the question, sir." Ianto relented "My sister has asthma. She was worse as a child, and I noticed what my mother used to do." Ianto grinned. "Your turn."

Jack grimaced, torn between asserting his authority as the boss and telling him the real reason.

Finally he said, "She didn't seem surprised to see the Abrasoors. She looked at me like she knew who I was, and I have a niggling feeling I've seen her somewhere before." Ianto looked beyond sceptical.

"So we've locked up a person- a child- on grounds of an expression, and a "Niggling feeling"?" Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"It sounds stupid when you put it like that…" Ianto didn't say anything more, but picked up Owens stethoscope, and turned towards the cells. Jack groaned. He could practically taste the instant decaff. Nice one Harkness.

Owen opened the cell, and took it as a bad sign when the girl didn't even look up. Supporting her back, he handed her the inhaler, and watched as she took first one puff, then another, with difficulty. Owen began talking, the way he did in these sorts of situations. Finally her breathing eased slightly. Ianto came in with a blanket, and Owens stethoscope, which Owen took from him gratefully, and, muttering something about cold, placed it on the girls back.

"Why didn't you tell us, you stupid..?" Owen listened intently. Then he gestured to Ianto "Help me get her to the med bay, yeah? You just keep breathing." The girl nodded, not yet having quite regained the power of speech, and coughed again.

Tosh was ignoring him, Jack was certain. Gwen had given him a lot of grief about the girl in the first place, no doubt when she got back tomorrow morning, he'd get another earful about her. And from Owen. Tosh and Ianto would just ignore him. Jack wasn't sure which was worse. There was something about he, and he had to know what it was. Something familiar…He ran after Ianto and Owen, who were dragging the girl into the med bay, and Owen strapped an oxygen mask to the girls face, and instructed her to breathe normally. Ianto left to get her a cup of tea.

Jack looked down on the scene. Owen checking the girls pulse, keeping up a flow of Owen-style comments throughout. When her breathing was almost normal, he began asking her questions.

"What's your name?" Something clicked.

"Ally Thomas." Owen looked up at him.

"Do you know each other?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"We shouldn't. You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you." Ally's voice was raspy, but loud enough to be heard. "Then again. I knew you'd be all over the place."

"But… what happened? How are you here?" Ally coughed again.

"I can't tell you."

"You were in-" he glanced at Owen, then carried on. "You were in the trenches, Ally. How can you be here now? You've got to tell me."

"I knew it'd click eventually." Ally sighed and leaned back. Within minutes she was asleep. Owen looked at Jack, then Ally, and decided to talk about something he knew about.

"She'll be tired for a bit. From what I've heard those attacks really take it out of you."

"What was that about the trenches? Could she have been taken by the Rift? Jack!" Tosh's voice brought Jack back to earth.

"Team meeting. Now." Jack headed towards the boardroom. Ianto left the mug of tea on a table, and went after him.

"Jack? Should I get Gwen?" Jack hesitated, and looked at his watch.

"No, it's late. I'll brief her tomorrow."

Owen put the CCTV of the med bay up on the screen, and took a seat. Jack stood, pacing the room, Ianto standing in a corner. Tosh took the chair beside Owen.

"I know her." Jack began, and shook his head. "I knew her. In 1916, I was…fighting. I always figured… I couldn't die, so rather me than them right? And she was there. In the trenches. She shouldn't have been, women on the front line and all that, but somehow she managed it. She… kept our spirits up, talked to us, ferried letters back and forward, helped us through. She tried to treat me for a chest injury once. Only basic first aid, but it was better than what most of us had. She tried to help them understand shell-shock… good kid. The war ended, and she disappeared. I never found out about her family." He looked out of the window. "Then, second world war. I brushed it off at the time, but I was in London. The station was full of evacuees, crying mothers. I'm sure she was there, it was only a glimpse, but…" Jack shook his head disbelievingly.

"And now she's here." Owen finished.

"Yes." Jack smiled to himself.

"And… she was in the trenches? I haven't detected any unexplained rift spikes lately." Tosh began tapping away on her PDA.

"Leave it until tomorrow. It's past midnight, go home you lot."

"If she gets worse again, ring me." Owen instructed, before leaving. Tosh smiled vaguely in Jacks direction, and left as well. Ianto put an arm around Jack.

"Do you think she might know what's happening to you?" he asked softly.

"Maybe."