Timeline – pre season one.

Disclaimer – I don't own the Torchwood characters or concepts.

4/8/10 – Made some minor updates. I watched Fragments again and realized I had some details wrong. (Tosh did have a window in her cell!)

The Toshiko Sato who joined Torchwood wasn't the same woman who'd been dragged into the Unit prison. Not completely.

Same body, of course. Same brilliant mind within. But she was different. Broken, and pieced back together. Afraid. So afraid. The only thing holding her together was the unshakeable determination that this would never happen to her again.

How long had she been locked in this cell? Tosh had soon lost track. She slept so much it was impossible to mark how many days or nights she'd spent there. The sun struggled through the bars of her window every day, the moon sometimes marked the nights. But if she slept, and woke up to the dark – how did she know how many days had passed in between? The Toshiko she had been burrowed deep inside and hid, screaming out her fear and loneliness.

That cell. That guard. And the most terrifying thing of all was she'd never even known his name.

The first few times he'd come to her, he'd spoken softly. Brought her tiny things. Soap that didn't stink. Shampoo. Food that was hot, instead of lukewarm from waiting who knew how long before being delivered. She'd thought he was decent. Trying to bring some comfort into the miserable lives of his prisoners. Ha.

Toshiko knew about the Stockholm syndrome. In a way, it had been interesting feeling it work within her. But before long, she'd become obsessed with, well, she just called him Him. He never told her his name, and his name badge was always missing when he entered her cell. Oh, those moments. She literally lived for the moments He spent in her cell. Grateful for the tiniest attention. Delighted by those touches, to begin with. She craved human contact, felt almost herself again in His arms. But it didn't last. As soon as He had her submission, the tenderness stopped. And she couldn't protest, because if she so much as hesitated in his embrace or pulled away from his probing hands, He punished her, simply by His absence. She couldn't bear being alone, not now He'd addicted her to his presence. Before long she was nothing more than a vessel to be used as He wished. Tenderness turned to callousness. Callousness to brutality. Never enough to leave a mark – not on her physical self, at least. But inside Toshiko was scarred forever. And after all that, the time came when she supposed she wasn't even an amusement anymore. The visits stopped. The loneliness returned.

Toshiko lost herself in planning for a future she scarcely believed would happen. She had nothing but time to think. To decide how it would be, if by some miracle she ever escaped. It seemed to her that there were two main factors that had been her downfall. Love, too much of – and Power – not enough of.

Love. Love had been her downfall. Love for her mother had made her play into those terrorist's hands. The yearning for love had made her easy prey for HIM. Love, therefore, was dangerous. So Tosh would never feel love again. Or anything else, perhaps, just to be on the safe side. Not if she could help it. This, she realized, was what it truly meant to know your heart was breaking. This knowledge that it would never be safe to truly feel again.

Power. She'd been powerless. Unit had the power to lock her away for ever. The guard - He had the power to abuse her as he wished. Tosh had no power against them. So she would never be powerless again. That would take a bit more work.

Then one day Captain Jack Harkness strode into her life. He radiated power. He had taken her away from Unit. Therefore he must have more power than Unit. A mixed blessing, because Toshiko was in his power, now. Totally and completely. Existing at his whim every bit as much as she'd existed at the whim of Unit. She owed him her freedom, her sanity, if not her life. And she was boundlessly grateful for her freedom, but fear tempered her gratitude. There was a streak of ruthlessness in this man. He wouldn't have freed her if he hadn't had a use for her. Her freedom depended on working for him. And deep within Tosh was the abiding fear that if she didn't please him, he'd cease to protect her. And she'd be back in that cell again.

But she did please him. The Torchwood software and databases grew and flourished under her care. She expanded them, polished them, bringing the power that is knowledge to her fingertips. Before long she had made herself invaluable to Captain Jack Harkness. The fear receded. Tosh was able to take a real interest in this new world. This new world, this new life that was Torchwood. She lost track of the days, the weeks, the months, losing herself in her work.

The Hub was amazing. So much technology. So advanced. And the work they did was fascinating. All artifacts came to her first, for examination. Tosh found an alien artifact that absorbed knowledge. And she wasn't alone any more. Apart from Jack, who still scared her somewhat, there was a woman called Suzie and a man called Owen.

Suzie was strange. Bright and friendly on the surface, hard as diamond beneath. And she was obsessed with the afterlife. They'd had many discussions about the afterlife, this strange team she found herself in. Jack maintained there was nothing but darkness, arrogantly, as if he knew beyond doubt. And how could he possibly? How could anyone? Toshiko had been raised with an unshakeable faith in Christianity. And she still believed it. After all, she'd prayed every day in that cell, for someone to rescue her. And it had happened.

The resurrection glove fell through the rift. They all tried it. Tosh felt it drawing something from her as her hand slid inside the strangely warm metal. She had no problem with taking power from artifacts, but she would not give them anything in return. Giving would make her vulnerable. Giving would end in hurt. She pulled her hand away, insisting she felt nothing. Suzie took the wretched thing, embraced it, sold her soul to it.

And Owen. There was something in Owen she recognized. Something about the way he hid behind that veneer of sarcasm. He'd been hurt too, she decided. But his way of handling it was poles apart from hers. While she had withdrawn from the world, Owen drowned himself in excess.

It occurred to Tosh that perhaps she and Owen could help each other break through their self-imposed barriers. But when her tentative approaches resulted in jealous rages from Suzie, Tosh withdrew. For the best, really. She didn't really want to feel anything, after all.