'Oh, God, this place …' It was like a dry, empty wind howling over an unending desert. It was like the deep places in the ocean, the floor of fathomless trenches where the light could never reach and life could never be sustained. It was like the vacuum of space, where stars burned unfiltered by atmosphere and light was so absolute it didn't quite exist, without the contrast of the shadows.

It was empty. She hung in the void, and there was nothing. Nothing but the memories.

There was no Heaven, and there was no Hell. There was only constant reliving of what came before, what was done to her and what she had done, the things she should have done yet didn't. Words that should have been said. Fences that should have been mended. Throats that should have been slit.

She had perfect vision, 20-20 hindsight, yet there was nothing she could to fix things. Because she was finished.

And it was painful, tortuous, but she clung to the memories as hard as she could, because she could feel them slowly starting to fade away, gradually draining out of her and into the thirsty black.

And she knew, she just knew, that when the memories were gone, she would be, too. There'd be nothing to distinguish her from the dark. Nothing left of Suzie Costello.

She would have given anything to go back. She would have done anything to go back. To do what she hadn't had the courage to do before. To set right the worst of her wrongs. To read another poem, drink another coffee, take another walk.

So when someone offered the opportunity, she made her final deal with the Devil.

The void seemed even emptier than before, after her brief return to the land of the living.

She supposed she could be comforted. It's not like there was any risk that the name Suzie Costello will be forgotten anytime soon. She could wish it would be for a better reason than that she returned from the dead like some modern-day Innana, with Gwen playing the part of Dumuzi, killing her father (though she rather thought that if they knew him at all, they wouldn't count it against her), then fleeing to the wharfs for no they would understand (Suzie had just wanted to see the ocean one more time. She'd been born there, after all – she thought it was rather poetic that she die there as well).

There was no way to escape, now. She would spend eternity, howling in the trackless dark, screaming her former existence to the unhearing black until she ceased to exist.

'I suppose I should feel lucky that my eternity is likely to be cut short,' Suzie thought sardonically.

She'd used up her last chance, but it was worth it, to know that she had managed to right the greatest of her many wrongs. And worth it, to know her father was out here as well. 'You can't hide out here,' she thought, with dull glee. 'Can't disguise what you are. All the comforting half-truths, all the bald-faced lies, stripped away … No-where to hide.'

She might forgive him, now. She just might. Because he would be reliving it all, everything he had done to her, to her mother … no alcohol to blur the edges, no drugs to relieve him of the guilt.

Suzie pushed him out of her mind, for now. He didn't want to go, he'd been foremost in her thoughts for some time, but knowing he was here, knowing he was paying for some of what he had done, made it easier.

Aside from the second chance, there was another thing to be grateful to Gwen-bloody-Cooper for.

They'd been driving along a lonely road, past stands of trees, paddocks wired fences, and the woman switched the radio on. Her mum's favourite song. If she hadn't known what came next, Suzie might have convinced herself that it was a message from her mother's spirit, a blessing for what she was about to do, a gentle benediction, a final goodbye.

But, sitting by Gwen Cooper, who was so foolish in her determination to see the best in people, so optimistic in spite of the depths of depravity and violence that Torchwood bore witness to, Suzie found the hope that, maybe, her Mum had ended up somewhere different, somewhere bright and warm where she was loved as she deserved, and that Suzie's fate was reserved for the wicked alone.

So, for what time she had left, Suzie dove into the depths of her earliest memories, into thoughts of warm sunshine and wet grass, the smell of baking bread and the feel of play-doh squished between her fingers, the touch of gentle hands and sight of loving eyes framed in cheerful wrinkles, recollections of playful moods and protective arms.

She was recalled from the past by the sense of something approaching through the darkness.

'Too soon, too soon,' her soul shrieked, but Suzie had known this was coming.

It wasn't something that could be seen, or tasted, or scented. It could only be sensed. It was like an extreme concentration of the void - instead of the constant, steady hunger that gradually sipped at her memories, it was voracious. It was sentient, a living vacuum, a yawning pit starved to the edge of madness, and Suzie knew it wanted nothing more than to consume her in one foul bite.

You failed.

"I tried," Suzie thought, trying to project her mind's voice as loudly as possible, in the foolish hope that doing so would prevent it from digging further. 'Bloody Gwen. Her optimism must be contagious,' she thought, quietly. "I said I would try. I never promised I would succeed."

You failed.

"What did you expect? It's all I've ever done, my entire life," she 'shouted' bitterly, knowing that her mind's voice was like the squeak of a mouse in comparison to that monstrous roar. "I try, and I try, but everything always goes wrong."

The Rift-Keepers destroyed the Gauntlet.

"And how is that my fault? I did not tell them that breaking the glove would break the connection." Suzie did not lie outright, because the creature always knew when she did. But, if she were careful, she might be able to mislead it. It might never find out what she had done - its servant would have been watching her interaction with Torchwood, she knew with certainty, but acting was one of the few things that Suzie knew she was good at.

Jack had been a bit thick, though. It'd taken him awhile to get it. She supposed she couldn't really blame him. The creature's spy would have been watching, she was dead certain, and she knew he was no ordinary man. He would have killed them all if it thought she was wavering, then forced her to do the creature's will.

She wondered what Jack thought she meant, about there being a 'little bit of Gwen' in her? They thought she betrayed them, no doubt. And yes, she did, but that was before she'd died.

'It's all your fault, Jack. You recruited me.' That's what had made him realise. Reminded him of that old, worn-out discussion they'd kept having, about the odd set of coincidences that had led to him hiring her, their old arguments about destiny and serependipity and plain old chance. How Jack had kept insisting that everything was interconnected, and Suzie had teased him about it. 'I don't think anyone's more connected than you,' she'd always said. Jack would raise his eyebrows. 'That's what you kids are calling it these days?'

Jack, the undying. At least now she knew what the creature wanted with him. Not that it would ever get it's chance, now. Not by using the glove, anyway.

'You're trapped, now,' Suzie thought with satisfaction. 'As trapped as I am, as trapped as you made me.'

It had whispered to her, when she used the glove. It had used the connection to sink hooks and barbs into her mind, keeping them bound even when the glove's connection was broken. It had stirred the memories, awoke the repressed sounds of screaming and the pounding of fists on flesh. It had sent it's servant to the Pilgrims - Bilis, the oddest oddest of their members, who spoke of bleak things, dark and despairing. A creature out of its time. It had prodded her to ask of the first of her victims, what, exactly, happened when you died?

Suzie had recognised the voice as the devil on her shoulder when it approached her, soon after she'd placed the gun to her chin and pulled the trigger. She'd had plenty of time to put the pieces together.

Twenty-twenty hindsight.

You warned the Fixed Point.

'Oh, and wouldn't Jack get a giggle out of that title?' Suzie thought, and felt a surge of regret, that she'd never see him again. Jack had been something special. He'd never have looked thrice at her (it seemed that, for Jack, looking twice was mandatory), but she'd loved him, in her own way. Not that she would ever have told him - to be loved by Suzie Costello was to be cursed, she knew through harsh experience.

Well, now she knew for sure that his cravat-wearing servant had been spying, somehow. There was no other way It would know she'd told Jack that it was coming for him.

"I made him fear you. As he should."

And that statement was nothing but truth.

There was a pause, and if she'd still had a body her heart would have been pounding with fear.

That is as it should be.

It sounded … smug.

Suzie allowed herself a moment to (quietly) savour her triumph.

I have no further use of you.

The creature seemed to come closer, it's approach felt as an increase in its hunger, which had been quieted during their conversation.

Shit.

'We had an agreement!' she shouted, and she knew she sounded exactly like the bad guy in a film that has made a deal with the Devil and only just realised that the Devil was treacherous. Which was a tone she felt was rather well-suited to this situation.

But she had absorbed the legendary sagas when she'd been a teenager like a plant absorbing sunlight, studied myths and legends with fervour. And everything said that creatures such as these were bound by their word. Possibly not the most reliable source of information, but it wasn't as though there were many sources to choose from.

You failed. The Rift remains closed.

My success was not a condition of the deal! The fear and anger gave her voice strength. The agreement was that I would go back, and that if the transfer of energy from the Summoner to me was completed, I would attempt to open the Rift. The agreement was that if I did that, you would leave me alone. You gave your word.

I stayed as long as I could, but the connection was severed before the transfer was complete. I kept my side of the bargain, so leave me the fuck alone!

You will fade. Your energy will disperse. I would take you. I would use you.

I am content to fade

There was a few moments of silence. Then the hunger began to fade, and she knew the Beast was moving away.

Suzie would have gasped with relief, had she been able.

It wasn't much of a life, strictly speaking it wasn't a life at all, but after all the horrible things she had done in order to stay alive, back when she had still been alive, she wasn't going to throw away what she had left, even if it was a mere echo of existence.

She would remember the evil she had done, and the evil that had been done to her, and, apart from slowly losing pieces of her memory, nothing would ever change.

She pushed regret aside firmly. This was her punishment. She had let the monster guide her actions, and people were dead because of it.

Though, when Suzie thought about it, maybe things had worked out for the best. Perhaps the glove would never have been used, if she hadn't done what she did. Might have lain in the Archives forever. But, then again, someone else might have dug it up, found out how it worked. And what if the next of the creature's victims hadn't been able to resist at all, or had understood what was happening too late to do any good?

The creature would have been freed from the it's prison, would have been loosed upon an unsuspecting and vulnerable world, and the list of victims on Suzie's conscience would have been nothing in comparison to the carnage.

She wrapped her memories around her, both dark and light, and sank into them, burrowing so deeply it felt almost as though she was living them all again. They would fade in time, she knew, and it would hurt, reliving all her mistakes and missed opportunities and knowing there was nothing more to be done.

But she had put right the worst of her sins, and that was enough to make it bearable.

Call upon Abbadon when you see sense and seek oblivion

The Beast's parting shot fell upon unreceptive ears.

Suzie was content to fade.

So, what do you think?