Chapter 9: Torchwood London, 2044
General Trefor Williams stood, staring out the window of his sister's office. Under other circumstances, he wouldn't have said anything about his sister's love life. He had enough problems dealing with his own. Anwen entered wearing jeans, a t-shirt and cowboy boots. Finding the time for her horses was healthy at least. He had no idea how to start the conversation.
"What worries my baby brother?" She was using that tone.
Trefor smiled. Whenever she was annoyed with him, he was her baby brother. It didn't matter he was twenty-seven or in charge of the Global Defense Force. It was her way of comparing his behavior to a toddler that threw tantrums and building blocks.
"John Hart."
Anwen groaned. "Why do you care?"
"He's an unstable, homicidal addict who once tried to kill mum."
Anwen opened her closet where she kept extra work clothes. "John is motivated by money and emotion. Give him a place to belong, an income and a person to love, and he's solid." A beat. "With Keara gone, he's out of control."
"John Hart is a rabid dog." Trefor couldn't believe what he was hearing. When they dragged John back to Torchwood the last time, he had overdosed on drugs and alcohol. "I know you took care of him." Drying out an addict with multiple malfunctions was intense. "Are you sure about your motivations?"
"Yes."
"You're manipulating a violent sociopath by sleeping with him."
"I've been alone a long time, Tref." She selected a suit. "Dating outside of Torchwood is impossible. Dating a subordinate is a bad idea." She folded the outfit over her arm and shut the closet. "John doesn't want control. Or a promotion." A beat. "The arrangement works for both of us."
Anwen Williams returned to her flat at Torchwood London wondering if she had the energy for dinner. One government leader said he didn't recognize the authority of Torchwood because he didn't believe in aliens or the Rift. A Middle Eastern ambassador refused to speak with a woman; she refused to give into to the misogynist arse. The other leaders, politicians and representatives also acted like small children. She was suppose to be arbitrating and negotiating, not babysitting a bunch of spoiled brats.
She smelled pot roast as she opened the door. It reminded her of coming home from school and dad cooking. She missed her parents, and silly conversations with Jack. After her mother died, Jack retreated. They still talked now and again, but it wasn't the same.
"You cook?"
John was in the kitchen area connected to the main room. He waited until she crossed the room to respond. "No." He smiled. "I told Cynthia you were overworked and losing weight."
Anwen laughed.
"Pot roast, vegetables from the vertical garden and a homemade pie."
His ability to charm people reminded her of Jack. A charming, mischievous rogue. Seeing him standing in her kitchen with dinner, made it hard to believe he'd pushed Jack off a roof, caused the deaths of two Torchwood people and left her mum to die.
"I need to change."
"Cynthia dropped off your laundry this morning. The basket's on the bed."
Which explained how he met with the head of housekeeping and charmed her into dinner. "Thanks."
Anwen changed and returned to the main room. John had already set the table. All she had to do was sit and eat. Trefor wouldn't understand. When he wanted company, he went to a pub or a club or a coffee shop and found someone for the evening or the weekend. Even if that appealed, she was too recognizable. Men could get away with casual dating. If she tried it, the media would have a field day.
"How was daycare?"
That brought her thoughts back to the table. "What?"
"The arbitration with the 'adult tantrums.'"
Anwen smiled. She'd forget she told him that the night before. "A bunch of wankers. A friend of Jack's told me during a break that one of the representatives said I'm the head of Torchwood because I'm shagging Jack."
John laughed, almost choking. "You did say it was the family business."
Anwen threw a roll at him and hit in the head. He threw it back. Anwen laughed. John caught it the second time. He moved around the table and jokingly threatened to crush the roll against her forehead. They laughed and kissed.
More importantly the day faded and the stress with it.
Anwen Williams woke and rubbed her face. "What time is it?"
John stepped into the bedroom. "1000."
Puzzled, she pushed herself up. The curtains were drawn, but she could see sunlight beyond them. "How?"
"I called your assistant at 0600 and told him your phone was off."
Anwen laughed. "What did you threaten to do to Langford if he woke me?"
"Nothing you want to know about."
"Did he ask why?"
"I told him you were indisposed."
"You didn't." She was still chuckling she climbed out of bed.
"No." John smiled. "He would have died of embarrassment."
"Yeah. I met Landford when I was twelve. His late wife watched me and Trefor while our parents worked." She headed for the bathroom. "What time am I expected?"
"After lunch."
She peaked her head back out the door. "I thought I had an appointment with a representative."
"Javed Halim insisted on speaking with Jack."
"For the best. Halim is an old school women-should-be-seen-and-not-heard type. Sudan is having trouble with extremists and he's in London seeking help because he pissed off Aman. Torchwood Nigeria is obviously closer." Anwen returned to the bathroom.
"Do you dislike the man?"
She didn't respond for a few minutes. "Oh yeah. The last time I dealt with him, I walked into the meeting carrying a puppy and set it on the desk."
John laughed. "What happened to diplomacy?"
"He angered Aman by making anti-gay comments and offering him a bride along the lines of conversion therapy." She sighed. "He was incapable of understanding how offensive he was. The puppy stated my case." A beat. "The man is an arse."
"I'd rather see your arse. Can I wash your back?
Anwen laughed. "We have a couple hours, right?"
