Normally I love a woman who can drink, but the fact that Gwen Cooper hadn't come up for air yet had me a little worried. It wasn't that I couldn't understand her wanting a little alcohol. What she'd seen in the past forty-eight hours was enough to make most people mainline stronger stuff than what they keep on tap in the local pub. My only concern was that she'd finish her drink too fast and the retcon I'd slipped in as I passed her the glass would take effect sooner than I'd like. Fortunately it looked like she wasn't going to chug the entire glass in one go. I still had time.
"The thing, is I just don't understand-"
"No, I'll tell you what I don't understand. You're going to rattle on with this, 'How can this be true?', kind of shtick. What is it going to take for you people? If you want evidence of aliens, how about that great big spaceship hovering over London on Christmas day? What about the Battle of Canary Wharf? A Cyberman in every home?" If even intelligent people like Gwen Cooper had trouble accepting the truth, what did that mean for the world in general?
"My boyfriend says it's like a sort of terrorism." Boyfriend? Funny, I hadn't remembered that from her profile. Tosh must be slipping. "-drugs in the water supply. Psychotropic drugs causing mass hallucinations and stuff." No, wait, I think Tosh did mention a boyfriend this morning. A boyfriend Gwen lives with.
"Well you're boyfriend's stupid." The file definitely hadn't mentioned that.
"Oh you've met him." The file also hadn't mentioned Gwen was funny. Strange how incomplete profiles can be. Uh oh, she looks serious about something. I hope this doesn't mean we were heading back to the 'what are you going to do to me?' line of questioning. I don't want to tell her the truth and I'm running out of evasions.
"So you catch aliens." That was pretty painless. From the look on her face, I would have guessed she'd ask something much worse, like "Do we experiment on ET down in the basement?"
"Yep."
"You catch aliens for a living."
"Yes I do."
"You're an alien catcher."
"Yes I am."
"Caught any good aliens?"
"Tons of them."
"That's a hell of a job."
"Sure is." I was enjoying this bizarrely repetitive conversation. I don't think it was what we were talking about that mattered. I liked our rhythm, two different parts of the same duet.
"This is so weird. And who are you then." The one topic I don't discuss with anyone, amnesia pill or no.
"Captain Jack Harkness."
"I did some research and there's only one Captain Jack Harkness on record and he disappeared in 1941."
"Well that couldn't be me. Could it?" How deep are you willing to go Gwen Cooper? How much will you believe? God I needed to mentally slap myself. Jack Harkness are you doing? None of that matters. Finish what you started.
"We don't just catch aliens. We salvage the stuff they leave behind, find ways of using it. Arming the human race for the future. The twenty-first century is where everything changes and you've got to be ready." Would she be one of the faceless millions to fall? She stuck me as a survivor, not a victim, but who really knew?
"But who's in charge of you? Is it the government?"
"We are separate from the government, outside the police, beyond the United Nations 'cause if one power got hold of this stuff, they could use it for their own purposes." I'd seen too many governments become corrupted by power to trust the weapons we've collected to anyone else, but me.
"But so could you." Yes, but I trust me. And I trust my team.
"All alien technology stays on the base. No one's allowed to take anything outside." The rules keep us honest. Torchwood is not a threat to the human race.
"So, go on then, how the hell did you end up in Cardiff."
"This is Torchwood Three. Torchwood One was London, destroyed in the battle. Torchwood Two is in Glasslow, a very strange man. Torchwood Three, Cardiff. Torchwood Four has kind of gone missing, but we'll find it one day." Hopefully with all of its staff relatively sane. Or as sane as they were before they when missing.
"So you just fancied Cardiff?"
"There is a rift through space and time running right through the city. The weevils didn't come in a space ship, they just slipped through. All sorts of things get washed up here, creatures, time shifts, space junk, debree, flosom and jetsom." Tidal wave after tidal wave of bad news.
"Sounds like Cardiff." There's that wit again. It's odd how natural laughing with her feels.
"Don't knock it, I'm a citizen."
"But where are you from?" You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
"All sorts of places." Most of which I'd like to forget.
"The thing is we could liaise on this. The serial killer. I could be your liaison with the police." Tempting thought. Unfortunately the only thing we ever need the police to do is get out of our way. Although after meeting Gwen maybe I'll ask a little more politely.
"Right, I can see the mistake. You think because we showed up at the scene of crime we are out to catch the killer." A logical presumption. Wrong, but logical. "Sorry, nothing to do with us."
"Then what were you doing there?"
"Testing the glove. We need murder victims, it's as simple as that. The glove only works on the recently deceased and the more violent the trauma, the stronger the resurrection." I've often wondered why that is. Maybe those who go peacefully don't want to come back.
"No, you were asking that man, John Tucker, I saw you. You were asking him about his killer."
"He'd just been murdered. What else you going to ask?"
"You could get an ID. You could help." She's known about us for all of two days and she already thinks she can us tell how to do our jobs better. Ballsy. Very, very ballsy.
"We're busy." Even if we could to help, it's not like we've gotten anything useful out of the victim's so far.
"And your work is more important?" Let's see, six billion live versus three? I'd say on the importance scale the odds are a little weighed in our favor.
"Now you've got it."
"Well that's tough shit 'cause if you let me go, I have a duty, I can tell them what you've got, 'cause that glove could help us." She doesn't seem to be as scared of me anymore. I wonder if that's because we're in a public place or because she's started to trust me. Maybe it's neither, maybe her drive to do the right thing outweighs her fear. I guess I'll never know. It was almost time to pull the plug anyway.
"If you remember."
"What d'ya mean?"
"How's your drink?" I could feel the change in atmosphere so acutely, I wondered at rest of the pub for not shivering. Her smile was gone. Her wide green eyes had iced over. I wasn't a man she was having a drink anymore. I was a threat.
"Have you poisoned me?" I was actually feeling guilty. That's practically unprecedented.
"Don't be so dramatic. It's an amnesia pill, my own recipe with a touch of denial and a dash of retcon. You'll wake up tomorrow morning and you will have forgotten everything about Torchwood. Worst still, you'll have forgotten me. Which is kind of tragic." I didn't mean just for her. I didn't like the thought of Gwen Cooper forgetting me. I really didn't like it. Great, now she was bolting away from me like I was Jack the Ripper, instead of Captain Jack Harkness. Bit of an overreaction to one measly amnesia pill.
"Don't think you can fight it by staying awake. I've mixed in a bit of sedative too."
"Then I'll tell someone!"
"Do you want to do that? Do you really want us to find them too?" Exchanging threats was not how I wanted this night to end. She couldn't have played nice for another twenty minutes?
"You bastard!" She's got a bit of a mouth on her.
"Language! Nice knowing you Gwen Cooper." Despite the last few minutes, it really had been nice. I had to fight the temptation to turn around and watch Gwen sprint down sidewalk in the direction of her car. I wasn't too worried about the sedative effecting her driving. I'm pretty precise with my measurements and the dose I gave Gwen was a little on the light side. She'd still pass out but she'd definitely be safely home when she did. Still, didn't hurt to take precautions. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Ianto, who of course picked up after one ring.
"Ianto, Gwen's heading back to her car right now and she's a little under the influence, if you get my meaning. I want you to follow her with the traffic cameras, make sure she gets home alright."
"Of course, sir. Will you be needing any other assistance with …Gwen?" I could have been imagining it, but it sure sounded like Ianto was putting quotations marks around Gwen's name.
"Yeah, I would guess she's in the mood for typing a diary entry before bed. If you could take care of that, I'd appreciate it."
"Whatever you think is best, sir."
"Thanks." I pressed the call end button with a little more vigor than usual. I just wish for once Ianto would come out and say whatever it is that he's thinking. I swear he's got layering innocent comments with subtext down to an art form. Some days it was enough to make me want to slam him against the wall and- no, another first, but I actually don't want to think about that particular fantasy right now. I must be coming down with something. What I did what to do was take a long walk, enjoy the night air and think about someone with wide green eyes and an adorable grin that she covers with her hand as she laughs. Funny, I think I'm going miss her. But how can I miss something I never had.