Chapter Four
Gwen explained to Catherine what had happened over tea, then explained it all again to Jack once he returned, covered in blood.
The two lived on a rather large and majestic estate ("inherited from my uncle, maintenance is hell, Weeping Angels in the basement and once we were besieged by oh no these demonic brakes!"). The tea service was fine china and silver, although the rug, table, and sofa were rather cheap. The reasoning behind this became clear when Jack came in and got blood all over them.
"You washed your hands, dear?" Catherine asked, an impeccable lady.
"Of course I did." They smiled at each other. Gwen hurt to know that Jack— her Jack— had lost this. Catherine was long dead and buried, this house— she wondered if he still owned it, still visited. She handed him a cup of tea and a scone.
"So, Gwen Cooper— if your shopkeeper was telling the truth, something important to my timeline's coming up soon."
"Yep." She bit a scone contemplatively.
"I assume it wouldn't just be normal world-saving?" Catherine stood to pace. "Could be anything."
"It could be a particular world-saving," Jack said.
"So we've got to make sure something happens, but we don't know what and could accidentally stop it instead?" Gwen asked.
"This is a bit of a predicament," Catherine agreed. She paced frantically, gesturing wildly. "The brakes!"
"The brakes?" Jack asked.
"Maybe he broke the brakes."
"Well, we need to fix them anyway," Gwen said, not eager to die in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
"I've got just the thing, anyway." Catherine nodded. "I'll fix them before dinner, in case the house catches fire." She looked at Gwen, taking one more step and then standing still. "I forgot to inform Lavinia we have company." She said it with dread in her voice.
"Is there something you forgot to tell me?" Jack asked.
"Well, you know Lavinia isn't fond of me…"
"She's going to quit when she finds out, isn't she?"
Catherine stood still as a deer in the headlights. "How many will that make?" she asked with a nervous grin.
"I don't think we really need a cook. I'll make dinner." Jack shook his head. "Now, if it was the maid…"
"We couldn't do without a maid, not in a place this big," she agreed, "Fortunately, Violet says she'd only ever want to work in the most dangerous estate in Britain."
"Not the most," said Jack.
"I was too afraid to correct her. She might quit if you do." Catherine laughed. "In any case, should I go fire Lavinia before she quits?"
"Might as well," Jack said.
"Lovely. I'll go ask Violet to prepare the guest room, too."
"Oh, I'll help," said Gwen, standing up.
"Violet abhors being helped by anyone at all," said Catherine, "They don't do things properly, and so she gets quite snappish, which she doesn't like at all. No, you and Jack try to figure out temporal things and I'll handle the mundane." She stuffed a scone in her mouth and swept out.
There was a moment of silence.
"2008, you said?" Jack asked.
"I don't think I can tell you anything about the future." Gwen sipped her tea. "I'm pretty sure that breaks something… timey-wimey."
"I'm a time-traveler. Twenty-first century. Everything changes."
"You've said." Gwen grinned. Then, thinking, she frowned. "Wait… if you've met me now, did you only hire me because you knew I'd be a Torchwood agent?"
"Don't try to figure it out." Jack laughed. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. I know I wouldn't hire you if you didn't impress me."
"Because if I fail, time collapses."
"Well, yes." He shrugged and ate a biscuit. "In which case, you have impressed me in the future."
Gwen smiled and watched Jack for a few seconds. "You're so much younger than my Jack."
"You are from the future," he said lightly.
"Not just that. Your eyes. There's less pain in them."
Jack looked at the doorway. "I haven't lost her yet," he said quietly, "that's what you're seeing. And when I do, I don't know how I'm going to love anyone again."
"You will." She smiled a bit, to make him feel better. "And I can't see you stopping."
He looked at her for a second, then returned her smile. "Well," he said, "let's save time."