Chapter Eleven:

Closure?

By the time Owen and Diane order their food, they've exhausted their small talk. Both of them are nervous and make a few feeble attempts at eye contact, but at this point, they understand a successful evening is one that doesn't end in shouting or in tears.

They sit in silence for a bit until Owen asks, "Why did you come to see me this evening?"

"When you think of me, I don't want you to feel resentment or anger. It might be nice if we could be friends."

"Friends?" Owen repeats with the slightest hint of sarcasm. "I'm not sure if I can ever be your friend."

"Then why did you agree to take me out?" Diane asks.

Owen doesn't reply right away. Instead, he tries to find the right words, but finds it difficult. "I'm about to do something that I'm not used to. I know I'll feel better once I've done it, but that doesn't make it any easier," he replies. "I'm sorry."

Unable to believe what she's just heard, Diane leans in closer, "You're what?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats just a bit louder. The second time sounds more sincere. "I'm sorry for yelling at you in the lift. I was pretty awful."

"Apology accepted," Diane replies. "I really didn't mean for your colleagues to get sick."

"I know."

Her bottom lip begins to tremble, but she wills herself not to cry, "I wanted to love him."

"The man who was married to the woman who poisoned my friends?"

"Yes. I hoped that maybe I found my place in time and the man that I could grow old with."

"Even though he was married?"

"Maybe I was tired of being alone all of the time. I even started to try to convince myself he'd leave his wife, that he would chose me. I never had any illusions that we would have a conventional life with a house and children, but I believed that we could forge some sort of life together."

"Did you love him?"

"No," she whispers. "As much as he did for me, as much as I desired him, I knew I didn't love him. The most that I could muster was merely gratitude. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am shallow and incapable of love."

"Forget what I said."

Her voice cracks in her frustration. "I should have left him sooner, and no one would have gotten hurt. Maybe I did deserve your anger."

"No. I don't want to feel that way. I'd just like to feel…calm."

The waiter arrives with their meals which both use as an excuse not to speak for a while. A man at the table next to them proposes marriage to his girlfriend, and they both clap politely.

"Better him than me," Owen mutters.

"You don't think you'll ever…"

"No, not really my style. Besides, who'd put up with someone like me?"

"Dr. Templeton doesn't seem to intimidate easily."

"Not my type," the doctor says, and there is some truth to that statement since Owen had never thought about dating someone as unapologetically quirky as Rory.

With some effort, Diane concedes, "She is pretty, not gorgeous nor beautiful. Just very pretty."

"She's…" And for a moment, his face lights up as he thinks about her, but the thought of entering a relationship with her - or anyone else, for that matter - frightens him. When it doesn't work out, then what? "She's a bratty, bossy snob. She only follows rules when they are convenient for her. And she's always so happy. No one is that happy." But he knows that last part isn't true. He's seen her at her most vulnerable and that look sent shivers down his spine. "Plus she has a fashion sense that would even perplex Sienna Miller."

Diane is confused. "Who is Sienna Miller?"

"Never mind."

"I just thought that you and she…Forget about it."

"Forget about what?"

"Well, if she isn't your girl, then what was happening on the sofa at your headquarters?"

Desperate to change the subject, Owen asks, pointing to the cart, "Dessert?"

"I suppose it's none of my business," Diane says.

Owen waits for her to make a cheap joke, but she doesn't. It occurs to him that the people that he cares most about in the world would have taken a shot at him, but not Diane. Rory would have taken a shot easily and followed it with that naughty smile of hers that makes him want to… He reminds himself not to think about her. "Would you like some tiramisu or not?"

"No. I should probably just call it a night. I really should look for a job tomorrow morning."

"You could ask Dr. Templeton -"

"She's already doing enough. I don't want feel more indebted to her than I already am, nor do I want to feel like a charity case. I think I'll find my way." Her voice cracks a bit, "I hope I will."

"You could always write your stories down and publish under the guise of science fiction," Owen suggests.

"I suppose I could," Diane actually smiles.

At the end of the evening, Owen and Diane sit in the car in front of her building.

"I suppose I'll see you around," she tells him, not wanting the evening to be over because she knows that this may be the last moment she spends alone with Owen.

"Maybe."

She places her hand on his. "I wish you nothing but the best, Owen. I do."

"Yeah, you, too," he whispers, and he can honestly say that he means it. But he adds, "If you should need our help again, I'd rather that you didn't call me. I'm sure that Gwen or Ianto or even Jack will be willing to assist you."

"So this is it?" she asks, trying to be strong. "Why can't we start over?"

"Because I can't afford to make the same mistakes." Owen takes her hand off of his. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye." And just like that, she gets out of the car and goes inside.

xxxxx

The purpose of Friday lunches - as proposed by Ianto - was to give the staff a chance to address any issues that have surfaced over the week in a relaxed, stress-free environment. However, the discussions have a tendency to become about sex. This week the topic of celebrity crushes has come up, and it's Gwen's turn to reply. "Brad Pitt, definitely Brad Pitt," she says over Thai food in the boardroom.

Owen rolls his eyes. "That is so original."

"Hey, I said nothing when you said Pamela Anderson," Gwen protests. "I mean, that's a bit obvious. What about you, Ianto?"

"Juliet Binoche," he replies. "She's so sophisticated and feminine."

Owen sighs heavily, "Leave it to Ianto to pick someone foreign and artsy."

"My male pick is Daniel Day-Lewis," the Welshman adds.

"You get two picks?" Tosh asks.

"Covering all bases," Ianto says with a wink. "Jack got two."

"Daniel Day-Lewis?" Jack mutters.

"What's wrong with him?" Ianto asks. "He's so intense, dark and brooding."

"He's a bit - I don't know - stringy," Jack replies in a huffy voice.

Ianto chuckles. "Stringy?"

"Scrawny," Jack insists. "The guy is a stick."

"I didn't realize you were judging," Tosh says in Ianto's defense.

"Well, he's old," Jack pouts.

"You're one to talk," Owen says with a laugh.

Jack points to Owen with a fork, sending a piece of squid flying across the table. "I look good for my age!"

Ianto pats Jack's arm reassuringly and takes away the fork. "Yes, you do."

"You know, the woman from the tourist board sort of looks like Juliet Binoche," Tosh comments.

Jack clears his throat. "Does she?"

"She looks more like Dame Judy Dench," Ianto says.

"All right, she does," Tosh admits. "It's just funny seeing Jack actually jealous."

When Tosh and Ianto burst out into laughter, Jack shouts, "I'm not jealous! Who started this game?"

"You did," Gwen says quietly, which makes the computer expert and the Welshman laugh harder. Gwen and Owen hold back their laughter successfully - for about two seconds until they crack.

"Look at the time," Jack says. "Back to work."

"Aww. Spoiled sport," Gwen mocks as she, Toshiko and Owen head to their work areas.

While Ianto cleans up the plates, Jack grabs him from behind by the waist, whispering menacingly in his ear, "Tonight, you're gonna to get it."

The blood drains from Ianto's head and into other parts of his body, making the Welshman feel just a bit dizzy. He stumbles forward bracing himself on the table, but Jack refuses to let him go. Only one word escapes from Ianto's lips, "Promise?"

Jack responds by kissing Ianto's earlobe before slowly releasing him and making a casual exit. Unable to focus on work, the young man collapses into a chair and exhales deeply.

xxxx

Back at his computer, Owen checks the clock one more time. Rory is due for her weekly blood test monitoring the toxin, but is almost twenty minutes late. She hasn't even bothered to call, or if she did, she certainly didn't call him. He tries to busy himself with paperwork, but he hates bloody paperwork and begins to tap his pen on his desk

Jack steps out of his office and opens the cog door with his wrist strap.

"Sorry, I'm late," Rory says as she enters the room. "I just got caught up with…lunch."

Owen catches his breath when he sees Rory who has obviously put a lot of effort in her appearance that day. She wears a early 1960's white dress with a red floral print on it paired with a red jacket that compliments the naturally tanned color of her skin. Her hair is swept away from her face and tucked in a soft, red brimless cap. It's over the top, vintage Rory, but the result is charming. The doctor thinks she's never looked better.

"How was…lunch?" Ianto asks, now fully recovered from the spell that Jack cast over him. He takes her jacket and drapes it over his arm.

"Lunch was very, very nice," she replies with a sweet little smirk.

"What was lunch?" Jack asks with suspicion.

"Rupert Epstein," Rory replies coyly. "Are you ready, Owen?" When she walks to the autopsy room, everyone follows.

"Rupert?" Jack asks.

Rory hops on the exam table. "He's just a guy that my assistant, Max, set me up with. We had a nice Greek meal, and then he took me back to his office so he could show me his Moog."

Jack rolls his eyes. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"A Moog is a synthesizer," Ianto states.

"Not just any synthesizer," Rory adds. "It's a hand-crafted, vintage, analogue piece of heaven. It's a cute, mini one." Owen snickers. "What?" she asks.

"Nothing," the doctor mutters as scans her with his alien tech.

"So is he nice?" Tosh asks with a giggle.

"Very nice," Rory beams. "And cute."

"Some of us have to work here!" Owen barks.

"Fine," Tosh replies. "We'll talk later, Rory."

"Okay," she says, waving at the rest of the team as they go back to their tasks.

"You seeing this guy again?" Owen asks once they're alone.

"I don't know," his patient replies. "Maybe."

"You're still on a sex ban," Owen reminds her.

"In that case, I think I might actually get to know him before anything happens. Usually, I just shag them straightaway, and then take the time to actually learn names and see what's what."

"Such a fucking brat."

"I know."

"This Rupert could turn out to be an incorrigible mama's boy or a complete psycho," he says.

"Glad you wish me well," she replies.

When he draws blood, she turns away and whimpers when he pricks her. She also clutches his shoulder. He places the blood sample in the machine for analysis. "Sorry, I haven't got a lolly for you," he tells her as he places a bandage on her arm.

"But I've got something for you," she says, pulling out something from her dress pocket. She pins a button with a little robot on it on the lapel of his lab coat.

"Cheers. You kept that in your pocket throughout your date?" he asks while looking down at the floor.

She lifts up his chin so that his eyes meet hers. "What if I did?" she asks softly.

Owen turns away quickly, much to Rory's frustration. "Your GI track looks fine. I think I can lift diet restrictions. Just go easy for a while. You know, go spicy instead of extra, extra spicy. I'll get you your blood results in a bit. Why don't you go up and chat with Jack or Tosh?"

"Right," Rory responds.

Owen examines the button she gave her and realizes that it's the same design that was on her t-shirt the day they first met, the day they made their first connection. He knows that she was trying to flirt, but if she could be happy with someone else, perhaps she was better off. That's what he kept telling himself as he waited for the test results.

As soon as he tells her that she's gotten rid of at least thirty percent of the toxin and should be clean in another two or three weeks, she announces that she has to leave. "I've got interviews to conduct. I still have to hire Vikram's replacement."

"Still haven't found anyone?" Jack asks.

"Who knew it could be so difficult to find someone new?" she replies.

She kisses Jack and Ianto goodbye, and as she leaves Jack's office, she awkwardly makes her way around Owen.

Jack notices the new button on Owen's lapel. "You didn't ask her out, did you?"

"I did not," he says respectfully.

Jack shakes his head in disbelief and tells the doctor. "You idiot."

While Owen stands about like a deer in the headlights, Jack googles Rupert Epstein. "Hmm. He is cute."

xxxx

In the lift, Rory chastises herself for getting emotional over another rejection from Owen. Well, at least she walked away with her pride. However, it was her pride that prevented her from asking him out when she probably should have. But the moment was over, and she resolves to get over it and meet other people. She resolves that she shouldn't get excited when Owen was near. She resolves not to fantasize about reading the paper in bed with him on Sunday mornings, cooking for him after he's been chasing aliens all day, holding hands with him while they shop at the market, or mercilessly beating him at video games in order to gain sexual favors. She allows herself to laugh as she thinks about that last one. She rationalizes that it's his loss, but, of course, it's her loss as well.

The part that really makes Rory feel uncomfortable is that she spent lunch with a perfectly nice gentleman and all she could do was think about Owen. The truth is that she agreed to meet him to get Max off her back. Rupert deserves better, she thinks to herself. Perhaps I could give it a second shot.

xxxx

At the end of the day, Gwen goes over her desk and searches for anything that's been left unattended. She's faxed the cover story to the police that contains a plausible explanation for the rolling blackouts that Cardiff suffered the day before. Stupid space tourists and their alien hair-dryers. The Weevils are quiet that night and so is the rift. There's nothing left for her to do, and Jack has told her to go home over an hour ago. Owen and Tosh have already gone, but Ianto stays behind to go over the budget with Jack. She watches the men for a bit and finds their interactions completely professional. They look nothing like lovers. That is until the younger man passes another statement to the Captain and takes the opportunity to run his fingers along the inside of the older man's wrist. It's such a small gesture, but it's enough to make Jack look up at him. And there it is: Jack's face is full of love. He says something to the Welshman that Gwen can't decipher. It could be about expenditures, for all she knew, but he's never looked at her that way.

"I'm off then," Gwen says.

"Good night," Jack replies.

"If I don't see you, have a safe weekend," Ianto says.

" 'Night, boys."

Once the cog door has shut, Jack slams the books shut and tosses aside his pen. "Interrogation room. NOW!" he orders.

I thought she'd never leave, Ianto thinks to himself as he complies.

xxxx

As soon as Tosh enters the classroom, she immediately wants to run outside. It's a dance class so it makes sense that there are mirrors on the wall. However, it makes her feel uneasy to know that they will reveal all of her missteps. She looks around the room and easily identifies the teacher. She's the lithe beauty with the steady gaze, who looks over her pupils with an appraising eye. Tosh feels sick and for the first time in a week, it's not the toxin that makes her feel this way. But she promised herself in the clean room that she would take time for herself. She will try new things. She will gain confidence. She will learn to love herself even if she throws up from fear. She tries to remind that she's been in more dangerous situations and faced them with courage. She reminds herself that dancing is all about counting. She can do that. She can do anything. She's brilliant. Jack tells her that all the time.

"You work with Gwen Cooper?" she hears a voice say. The owner of that voice is a wide-eyed young man with curly blond hair. "I'm Andy," he continues. "I used to be her partner when she was a lowly PC."

In the past, she would have blown him off, but this is a time for change. "I'm Toshiko."

"You wouldn't mind if we partnered up, would you? I mean, I'm not going to grill you about work or anything like that. It's just… I don't know anyone in this room."

"Neither do I," Tosh says. She notices that most people have paired up already.

"Have you danced the salsa before?"

"No. You?"

"No," Andy says with a chuckle. "Never taken a dance class before in my life."

"Neither have I," she confesses.

"So what do you say we give it a go?"

Tosh bites her lip and nods. "Okay."

The teacher takes her position at the center of the room and says in an authoritative Russian accent. "All right, let's begin."

Tosh takes Andy's arm, and they move towards the rest of the group.