Day 2.
Next morning, you wake up at six, taking a shower, washing your hair, then drying it, and dressing up. You put on a white skinny jean, a white printed shirt with a black heart that looks like it's melting, studded black moto ankle boots, a pair of black camera-shaped earrings, an edgy star cuff, and your usual silver watch.
You pass some files into your USB driver, and sync your iPhone with new music before you put on your black blazer and head out.
When you're walking out of your appartment, you're so lost in your thoughts that you walk into someone. It's your neighbor. He's a few inches taller than your, has short brown hair and blue-gray eyes.
"Sorry," you apologize immediately.
"That's all right," he says with his Welsh accent. You feel out of place with your American accent, something that's been bugging you since you got to Cardiff, but what can you do? "I'm Gareth." He introduces himsellf, smiling.
"Lucy," you smile back.
"Heading out for work?" He asks you.
"Yeah," you reply. You both start walking toward the elevator. "You?"
"Yes. Busy day. You know, something weird happened last night," he starts, and you don't stop him. "So, the mall was closing and I was shutting the gates when a guy runs past and ducks under it and then this girl follows him. The gate's just about to reach the ground, you know? And she rolls under it and the gates close. Then these two guys come, one wearing a military coat, and they scream at me to open the gates…" He shakes his head. "Maybe it was the police."
You resister the urge to laugh, but you can't help but crack a smile. "Not exactly." He looks back at you in confusion. "The girl running? That was me."
His eyes widen. "Really?"
"Yeah. Tiring job, let me tell you." You say. You exit the elevator and walk into the street.
"Hey, I was thinking, what do you say we go out tonight? Have dinner or something?"
You're taken aback by his request, but honestly? You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to got on a date with someone, let alone someone this attractive. "Sure." You smile.
"Is tomorrow night all right?" He smiles back, looking almost relieved. You exchange numbers, and look at the time. You're late for work.
"Sure. Gotta go now. See ya around." You wave him goodbye and head toward the Hub. That was interesting.
Jack's researching the guys identity. He smiles, satisified when he gets the results. "Our friend with the alien machine in his pocket is... one... Sean Harris aka Bernie."
"That's his name," you snap your fingers in frustration. "Damn. I need a new brain." You put up a photo of Sean on the board. "Can't believe it. He's just ninteen yet he has…" You stop, reading his file out loud. "A string of convictions—burglary, shoplifting, credit cards..." You trail off. "I take it back. I can believe it." Your mind drifts to the show Supernatural, but you still manage to catch Ianto's words.
"Do warn me if he's dropping in."
"The theft conviction—he was stealing tires off a car when the owner turns up, gives him so much grief, he apologizes. Starts putting them back on again which is when the police show up! And here—shoplifting conviction. Bottle of vodka and three Pot Noodles."
Owen, who's playing an arcade game, much to your disapproval, decides to drop in his usual comments. "A criminal mastermind." Then he turns to Jack. "Got anywhere with that not-so-mysterious object?"
"Alien, of course... Gorgeous nanotechnology, makes NASA look like Toys 'R' US." Jack answers vaguely.
"Well, you've really narrowed things down, haven't you?" Owen asks, sarcastically.
"I could find out more if I could," he mumbles a bit bitterly. No, not really. Or at least that's what you think, you've told them all you know about it.
"No cheating," you say loud enough for him to hear but low enough for it to seem like just a mumbling to everyone else.
"So, what next?" Tosh turns to Jack.
"Where does the kid live?" Jack asks.
"Splott," Tosh answers.
"Splott?" Owen questions, obviously wondering why there's a place called that.
"I believe estate agents pronounce it 'Sploe'." Ianto says and you can't help but chuckle.
You insisted they wouldn't find out much, but they decided to go anyway, Ianto staying behind, obviously. You and Tosh go check out his place. His mother opens the door, like you knew she would.
"Hi, I'm looking for Bernie, is he in?" Tosh asks timidly.
"Friends of his, are you?" Bernie's mom—mum?—asks.
"Yes, I'm from—" Bernie's mom cuts her off. Rude, you mentally point out.
"I'm his mother. He's a robbing little bastard who won't set foot in here till he pays me the fifty quid he owes me!" She slams the door on you, and you give Tosh an I-told-you-so kind of look.
Under the other's insistence, you keep interrogating people, but it's all useless. You end up buying something to eat at some weird place. You and Tosh are waiting at a table while Owen brings the foor.
"'Bernie Harris, the Scarlet Pimpernel of Splott.'" You remember Gwen's nickname for him, and mumble it, louder than you expected.
"Tell me about it. Give me aliens any day." Tosh says. Before you can say anything, Owen arrives with food. "Any luck?"
"Nope, but I got four pasties for a pound—anyone?" Owen offers. You take one and start eating it. You're the only one who notices Jack approaching, looking unhappy.
"I did tell you we wouldn't find anything on him." You point out.
"Yes, miss I-know-everything-and-everyone," Owen says sarcastically.
"Maybe you'll listen to me next time," you say, as you bring the food to your mouth again.
Jack approaches you and the others finally notice him and his unhappy expression. "We did try," Tosh says.
You folow Jack under a bridge, and you get the urge to get out of there soon. You remember what happens, what Owen saw, and you shiver at the thought.
"What's he gonna tell us? 'Got it off an alien down the market.'" Owen says.
"Where are we going?" You ask, absent-mindedly, too busy thinking about how you want to get out of there as fast as possible.
"Back to the railway station. Controlled experiment. We replicate the original events as far as possible. Observe and analyze the results." He explains.
"What? That's useless," You say before you can stop yourself. Jack glares at you.
"Any volunteers?" He asks, with a deep commanding voice. He tosses the device to Owen.
"Whoa!" Owen says, catching it.
You start worrying, and getting a bit scared. This is when it happens. "Okay then, let's go," you agree with him, wanting to leave the place immediately.
Owen stops and looks at the machine. You stop too.
"Uh, I don't mean to be picky, but I think I can spot some flaws in this—"
He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Jack interrupts him, irritated. "I'm sorry, I thought you gave up looking for a 19-year-old kid this morning? I figured maybe you were after something more exciting. A bit of a challenge."
Jack turns around and starts to leave.
"This door-to-door stuff never gets us anywhere." Owen comments, then says, "Guys, come here!"
You turn around as fast as you can and scream a little too loud, "Don't press the button!"
Too late.
He's pressed it. Even if it won't seem like it. You walk toward him, Tosh and Jack following you, alarmed by your sudden scream.
Soon, you're all surrounding him, as he comes back with you, panting. He looks terrified, and you know why. You can also understand why he looks so shaken.
"Owen, are you all right?" Tosh asks.
"She—she was so scared! I-I-I couldn't—I couldn't move! I couldn't help her!"
You take the machine away from him, and gulp. He did see that after all.
"The victim's name was Lizzie. It was maybe 40, 45 years ago. Toshiko, do we know anything about her yet?" Jack asks. You're back at the Hub, looking for Lizzie—Elizabeth—and even though you could say it all by yourself, Jack has warned you not to tell the rest, so you can't just go on, telling everything you know. Not to the team, just Jack. And he's cross at you—all of you—because you couldn't find Sean. But you know it's not the right time. You'll find him later, but not now.
"Elizabeth Lewis. Lizzie. Only child of Mabel Ann Lewis of Hafod Street. Died March 29th, 1963. Raped and murdered on Penfro Street, under the bridge. Seventeen years old." Tosh reports.
"He killed her." Owen says, sounding far away. You feel really bad for him, you wish you'd taken his place.
"No one was brought to trial," Tosh points out.
"She told her Mum she'd be home by nine. So what about Ed Morgan? That's what she called him. 'You're a bad one, Ed Morgan'. Look him up." Owen asks her.
You want to say something about Ed, but you don't need the warning look Jack gives you to think about it again. If you do tell him, Owen will kill him. If anything, you want that guy to live, because he obviously regrets what he did.
"It's kind of a common name," Tosh says.
"So is Elizabeth Lewis," you point out.
All of a sudden, Jack exclaims, "Quantum transducer!" He points at an image in his computer's screen. "Look."
Tosh abandons Owen's request and looks at what Jack is pointing. Owen, though, is still looking through files.
"Wow. I'd kill to get one of those. Transducers convert energy from one form into another. They're in headphones. They convert electrical signals into sound. And they're in this device too converting quantum energy and amplifying it." Tosh explains.
"It's emotion. Human emotion is energy. You can't always see it, or hear it, but you can feel it." You say absent-mindedly. This time you're not quoting Gwen, but Jack.
"Exactly," Jack says. Tosh goes and sits next to Owen.
"What else have we got on Lizzie Lewis, what else have we got?" Owen asks.
Tosh heads back to her computer. "Um. 1963—the records aren't always that detailed."
"What about newspapers? Witness statements, coroners' reports." Owen asks, frantically. He's desperate, and you know it. You sigh.
"Owen!" Jack says, but Owen ignores him.
"What do you want me to find exactly?" Tosh asks him.
"Well, there must be something!" Owen exclaims, frustated.
"For the case to be re-opened, you need new evidence, or a new witness." Jack says.
"I saw it happen," Owen says angrily.
"No, you didn't! You weren't there. You saw the echo of a moment, amplified by alien technology. So just tell me how that will play in court?" Jack says.
"Technically he did see it," you point out. Jack glares at you. Not helping, you can hear him saying. "Won't help in court but still."
"Well, since when did we care about court?" Owen demands.
"Tomorrow we go looking for Bernie Harris and find out what he knows about this ghost machine and get the other half. We do our job and find where this thing came from. Now, go home." Jack orders. Owen doesn't move though, and you know he's not going to drop the subject. Understandable, you think. "Lucy, with me!"
You follow him through the corridors until you reach the firing range. Even though this happened to Gwen, you hadn't expected this to happen to you. You grin. "This is awesome," you mumble.
Jack raises an eyebrow at your words, but doesn't comment. "You need to know how to use these. Though I hope you never have to."
"With this job?" You ask and he doesn't reply. You shake your head a little, incredulously. "Can't believe it. I don't even kill spiders." They're too frightening, I can't even get near one, you think but don't say it out loud.
"Nor do I, not with a gun." Jack says, and you chuckle. Jack motions the target. "It's all yours."
You put on eye and ear gear. Jack shows you how to insert the cartridge. He offers you the gun and you take it. It feels strange, out of place, in your hands. Suddenly, you're all nervous. What if you fail and kill someone in the process? Jack? Yourself? At least Jack'll come back to life, you think.
You mumble Jack's instructions to Gwen as you turn towards the target. "Target's that way—let's leave the roof in one piece." You remove a hand from the gun, just before Jack can point that out to you. "One hand, not two."
That's it, that's all you remember. It's like your mind's been wiped clean. You stand in front of the target and point your gun at it. Jack turns your shoulder so you're facing the side. "Turn sideways to the target." He says.
Right, you think. He stands behind you and brushes your hair away from your neck. He puts his hand on your shoulder and guides his hand down your arm and toward the gun.
"Looking along your shoulder, down your arm, a straight line to the sights." He instructs, and you do what he says. He pretends he's holding a gun and brings it up toward the target. "Bring up the gun." He says.
You try not to do it as fast as Gwen did, but you end up doing it so slow, Jack grabs your arm.
"Too slow," he says. He puts his hand over yours and brings up the gun toward the target. "It's all in the breathing. Hold it firmly, don't grip it." He reaches over and cocks the gun, taking up his position behind you again. This time, he holds your hips firmly against his and you gulp. "Breathe in." He says, taking a breath in with you. "Focus." He holds your hand steadily at the target. "Breathe out." You do. "Squeeze gently." You fire. The bullet hits the bullseye on the right shoulder of the attacking weevil. Not a lethal shot.
"Awesome," you mumble. He hugs you to him, and you roll your eyes. "You're just like Cas." You can't help but slip in a reference of one of your favorite TV shows. "Do you know what personal space is?"
"Don't pretend you weren't enjoying it." He says.
"Like Ianto said once, that's harrassment. And I've got a gun." You show him the gun, as if to prove your point.
"And I can't die." He points out.
"True. Doesn't mean that I can't shoot you repeatedly… Not that I'd do that, though. 'M not that cruel."
Jack stays quiet for a minute. Then says, "Try it again. On your own, and remember, breathe in."
He lets you go this time, and gives you your personal space back. You fire twice. Then he teaches you how to replace the cartridge, how to cock a gun, gives you some advices, then shows you other type of guns and also teaches your how to use them. You even try firing with two guns, one in each hand.
When you're finished, you're grinning, and you both remove your gears.
"That was awesome," you say, again.
"Nice work! Like I said, I hope you never have to use 'em." Jack says.
"Doubt it." You singsong. You look at your watch. It's nine pm already. "Jesus Christ. It's late." You look around. And remember how the conversation with Gwen went, the one about him living at the Hub. "Gotta be ready, the 21st century's when it all changes," he'd said. "And I hate to commute." You smile to yourself and shake your head. "Good night," you wave at him before going back up.