Disclaimer:

I in no way, shape or form own Torchwood/ Doctor Who or any of the characters therein. These shows belong to the Beeb and I'm just borrowing the characters for... uh... fun and frolics? There is no profit being made here, people, only wasted time :P Many thanks to Hiril Moon for her kindly and timely beta-reading. Concrit/ readers' thoughts greatly appreciated. Enjoy!


Left: Cold coffee and no diamonds

"So we're working with UNIT?" Gwen asks, looking away from the files she's piling up and raising her brows. "I thought you didn't like them."

Jack skims off the topmost file, flicks through it and then tosses it aside. "I don't." He leans both hands on her desk and gives her his roguish wink-and-grin combination. "I just reckon Ianto'd look cute in one of those red berets."

"I believe the phrase used was 'working with', not 'joining', sir. I don't think the uniform is mandatory." Gwen gives Ianto a tired smile as he approaches with two huge guns slung over his shoulders. "For you." He places one on Gwen's desk. "And for you." He places the other in Jack's hands, who hefts it and then fixes Ianto with a shrewd blue eye.

"And what about you, Ianto?"

Ianto pats the holster at his waist, beneath his suit jacket. "It's what I trained with, after all." He shrugs. "I know what you said, but I'm a pretty good shot."

Jack offers the gun back to Ianto, who shakes his head sharply and steps away, hands clasped behind him. Jack nods, eases the gun's strap over his shoulder.

Ianto taps his earpiece off. "UNIT are almost here. One of the officers was making a bit of a fuss, though, sir. She wants to talk to you."

Jack leans close and plucks off Ianto's earpiece, walks off a way while he fits it to his ear and then speaks briskly to whoever's on the other end.

Ianto and Gwen both watch him a moment, and then Ianto puts his palms on the edge of the desk and leans back against it, looking at the gun. "You're almost ready?" he asks.

Gwen nods, looking at the gun too. She wonders how heavy it is. "I got together all the files you wrote out."

Ianto nods, and then his gaze catches tentatively at Gwen's. The coffee is cold at her elbow. "Have you spoken to Rhys?"

Gwen shakes her head and squares the files with efficient hands. "Not since I told him to stay out of the car. I mean, we were all running around. Didn't really have the chance to tell him anything, now, did I."

Ianto says nothing.

She says quietly: "I don't think I can."

Her voice is too raw. "Dad thinks I'm in MI5 or something," Ianto offers with a self-deprecating smile, not looking at her.

"Jones, Ianto Jones," Gwen says, perhaps meaning to sound like Sean Connery, and grins. Familiar, when nothing else is. She bumps his shoulder with hers, lightly. "Suits you."

"Cheers," he says.

"You're not going to call him?" Her eyebrows draw together; the shadows round her eyes show how little sleep she's been having lately.

"Don't reckon so."

Gwen's never asked much about his family; she regrets it now.

"Ianto," she says, but then her mobile is ringing, vibrating across the desk. She bites her tongue, makes no move to answer it.

He twists his head to read the screen. "It's Rhys."

She picks up the phone automatically, but it takes an effort to press the green button. Ianto pushes off from the desk and takes a few paces away.

"Hullo lovely," says Rhys, bright and beloved in her ear. His voice is tinny and crackles- he must have got to his mam's all right, then. "Aliens on the news again, I don't know, in the bloody sky- you off to sort them out?"

"Yeah." She tries to moisten her mouth. "Yeah. UNIT have found a way to get us up there." The last few words shiver and crack and she says them loud, strong to cover it.

"Oh, well. That's good then."

Gwen pauses for just a moment, and she's trying to find the words- honestly she is- but they're tangled around her vocal chords.

"Gwen," he says. "Gwen. I love you." She closes her eyes.

"I love you, Rhys. Oh God, I love you."

"Good," he says, voice thickening a little. "Now, I reckon you'd best hang up now, love. Don't you have a job to do?"

"Kicking alien arse." It's well-worn, but they laugh; the two of them together, static on the line. Gwen pushes the back of her hand against her forehead, and swallows the words back and in, back and in, though it hurts. There is silence, just with the two of them breathing; one, two breaths.

"Hang up now, Gwen," Rhys says, gentle and firm. She does, and he's gone. Gwen weighs the phone in her hand, probing the knotted pain in her chest. She can still breathe, still run, still fight and if this hasn't broken her heart then she doesn't think anything can. From the tip of her eye she sees Ianto and Jack kiss delicately.

She pockets her phone and turns. Ianto is setting the Coat straight on Jack's shoulders with a professional, proprietary air. She walks over to them, the Sontaran files tucked under her arm, gun over her shoulder.

Jack kisses them both on the forehead, and if Gwen's eyes are a little brighter than usual and Ianto's hands clench in Jack's shirt—well, Jack will never tell. There are some secrets he keeps close: courage is one such. Valour, Jack thinks. His valiant little team.

"Are we off, then?" Gwen asks, once she's stepped back and recovered herself a little. "Reckon we've got a job to do."

"Ma'am," Ianto says, quite serious, except for his eyes.

"Yep," says Jack. He nods in approval as Gwen slips off her engagement and wedding rings and zips them into a pocket. Rings catch in things—why, he can remember this particularly nasty degloving…

He bites back the reflexive story; no, now isn't the time. They look back at the hub for the last time and then Ianto's handing out breathing apparatus, and this is it. There's no Doctor to fix this; they'll just have to do the best they can. Jack ushers the last two members of his team out of the cog door ahead of him and swallows. They'll see this through. "Time to go."


Good, bad, indifferent? Kindly let me know what you think; this is the first time I've written in this fandom. Cheers for reading :)