Set almost immediately after Children of Earth – I have yet to watch Miracle Day. *spoilers for series up through Children of Earth*
Gwen had lost the baby. The thought had banged around in Rhys' head for days, one minute he knew it was true and the next he didn't believe it. But every time he looked at her, he knew. She had yet to go into labor, but they both knew it would come, and the baby would never draw a breath. Gwen was sitting on the couch, staring into space, imagining who knew what. Rhys sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned her head on his. They sat in silence for a moment before she burst into tears. Rhys wrapped his arms around her and started crying himself. This is, basically, how the next week went.
A few days later, the pain started. Gwen gasped at the intensity and suddenness of it all. She phoned Rhys, and then a cab to take her to the hospital. A long while later, her baby was born. Dead. The doctor had tried to warn them about the emotions that would come. "I'm sorry," he said. But that wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Gwen was hollow. Useless. Rhys was her anchor in the following months, as they went through the depression together.
A year later, things were back to normal. Mostly. A walk through the baby or toy department to get to the women's would occasionally set her off. Her and Rhys's friends 'growing up' and having kids never failed to bring back the hopelessness. The automatic mailings from diaper companies she had signed up with- 'Your baby is three months old!' 'Your baby is six months old!' 'Your baby is nine months old!'- Always threw her into despair, but she didn't have the heart to cancel them. She needed to remember. Rhys needed to forget it. All of it. The thing with the 456, the children, their child. Torchwood. His method was to forget, but she needed to remember.
If she couldn't remember the bad, how could she remember the good? The joy, greater than anything she had ever felt, at seeing that tiny blip on the monitor at the Hub. The sense of togetherness and understanding with the Torchwood team. The love of Captain Jack Harkness for their dear coffee boy, and their sacrifice. The magic of learning there really was alien life. The wonder of meeting the more intelligent ones, even as they generally tried to kill each other. With the good memories came the bad. The loss of her baby. The bomb. The deaths – Toshiko, Owen, Ianto. The horror of the 456 using the children as drugs, as well as the utter disgust at what both humans and aliens were willing to do to save themselves, or even for just a bit of fun. She never talked about it with him. Any of it. If she tried to bring it up, he gently shushed her and tried to change the subject. "That's in the past, Gwenny. It's time to move on," he would say.
Since she couldn't talk about it, she wrote it down. She'd write a page or two in a notebook, then rip the pages out and burn them. She never saved any of it. Why would she want to save the despair she felt? So she watched it burn over a candle in the sink, imagining her despair shriveling up with the lined paper and leaving more room for laughter and joy. It always helped, at least for a while.
Then came the accident.