The Grief Gauntlet

"What is it? What's wrong" Yaz's voice trembled slightly, as she stared down at the metallic glove in her hands.

"Drop it! Fucking drop it!" Gwen was shouting at her as she backed away, eyes wide and fearful.

Yaz stared at her, then down at the object she was holding. It felt cold in her hands – not like the cool kiss of metal, but endothermic, as though it was sucking the heat from her. She placed it on the floor and moved away, swallowing down a sudden wave of nausea.

"Gwen," she said slowly, eyes fixed on the gauntlet, as though it were a snake about to strike, "what is that thing?"

"Trouble," the older officer replied, also watching the glove. "We had one just like this in the base. Had to be destroyed."

"But it's just a glove? Like those armoured gloves that medieval knights and stuff used to wear, right?" Yaz was confused.

"No, it's alien technology, and it's dangerous as hell."

Yaz shivered, feeling as though cold water had been poured down her spine.

"What does it do?"

"The other one could bring people back to life," Gwen said in a monotone, not taking her eyes from the gauntlet.

"What? But that's brilliant, isn't it?"

"It was only ever for a few minutes," Gwen shook her head, wincing at the memories, "but then it got out of control. We brought Suzie back and it wouldn't stop. It opened up a link between us and she was draining my life-force. I nearly died."

Yaz frowned as she watched the older woman. Gwen had grown pale and her face was expressionless, fixated on the object between them. She shivered again, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, feeling as cold as if she'd dipped them in a bucket of ice.

"Who's Suzie?"

Gwen looked up at her at last, eyes not quite meeting hers.

"She was part of the team and now she's not," she said simply.

Sensing that this conversation was going anywhere fast, Yaz stepped forwards and bent to wrap the gauntlet back up.

"What are you doing?"

The younger officer jumped at the hissed response.

"Well we can hardly leave it here, can we?" Yaz reasoned, carefully folding the cloth back around the glove. "If we take it back to the base, the team can have a proper look at it?"

"Fine," Gwen muttered, tension still running through every line of her body, "but just don't touch it, ok?"

"Well, I've already done that, but ok, I'll be careful," Yaz muttered half to herself as she folded the object up and slipped it into her satchel.

She stood back up, swaying slightly and feeling a little sick. Great, she thought, two days in rainy Cardiff and I've already got a cold. Rolling her neck and shoulders in an attempt to loosen up, she followed Gwen out of the warehouse and back to the car.

The metal glove seemed denser than she remembered, the satchel weighing heavily on her shoulder, the strap tight across her chest. It lay against her side coldly. Yaz shivered again, swallowing down the acidic burn rising in the back of her throat, and pulled her jacket tighter around her.

The misting rain outside was bitingly cold against her cheeks, and she jogged quickly over to join Gwen, who was already warming up the car. She stumbled slightly, catching herself just before she faceplanted the gravel.

"You alright?" Gwen called out, opening the drivers-side window a crack.

"Fine," Yaz replied, walking over more slowly.

Shaking off the incident as tired clumsiness, she slid into the passenger seat, slipping her satchel off and settling it between her feet. It hit the carpeted floor with thick clunking noise. Gwen shot a sideways look at her.

"You sure? No offence but you look a bit peaky."

"None taken," Yaz gave a small smile in return, "Reckon I'm coming down with something though?"

"Welcome to Cardiff," Gwen smirked, putting the car into first and sweeping shale into the air as put her foot down, leaving the warehouse behind them.

The journey back was quieter and Yaz spent much of it gazing out of the rain-wet window and fighting back alternating waves of nausea and fatigue. What I need, she thought, is a really good night's sleep. Travelling with the Doctor was amazing, but between the constant adrenaline rush and the more recent night-time developments, she felt completely exhausted. What she wouldn't give to be back in the immeasurable comfort of the timelord's double bed, the thick duvet and the blonde wrapped tightly around her.

A smile played across her lips as she recalled the first few moments of that morning. She had felt deliciously warm and cosy, aching and sated, the Doctor's breath tickling her neck. Her cheeks burned with sudden heat, assuaging the cold for a moment.

"What's tickling you?" Gwen interrupted, an eyebrow raised in her direction.

Yaz bit her lip, inwardly cursing her body's ability to give away her every thought, "Nothing?"

"Yeah, right," the Welsh officer laughed, "you were thinking about the Doctor, weren't you?"

"Alright, so what if I was?" Yaz gave up, she hadn't the energy to play games.

"You're dead cute, you are," Gwen grinned, "so, spill, what's she like?"

"Warm, funny, total klutz, and she's got this weird thing about custard creams," Yaz smiled dreamily, thinking of all the adjectives that described the timelord.

"Yeah, but I mean the sex? What's she like?"

"What?"

"Sorry – that's totally crass," Gwen sighed, rolling her eyes, "I just wondered, being all spacey and stuff, is it different? She looks like she might have a few tricks up her sleeve."

"I… uh…" Yaz blushed hard, not knowing what to say, "We… well… she…"

"Oh ho," a look of surprise crossed Gwen's face, "you have done it haven't you?"

"Well, I suppose… we…"

"What? I just assumed you had. Wait, why not?"

"Honestly, it's all a bit new," Yaz found her voice again, concentrating on the conversation to ward off the creeping, cold nausea.

"What?" Gwen sounded confused, "But what all was that on my sofa then?"

Yaz flushed, "Well, I mean, we've done… some stuff…"

Gwen cocked her eyebrow, a wry smile playing on her lips again, "Oh, aye?"

Yaz snorted, the ridiculous teenage quality of this conversation hitting home.

"Yeah, we just haven't – you know –"

"Gone all the way?" Gwen smirked.

"Yeah," Yaz breathed, half-amused, half-cringing.

"Honestly, you two," the older woman laughed softly, "well I do not want to be around when you finally seal the deal. Not sure my sofa could take much more!"

They both chuckled, and Yaz felt some of the embarrassment float away.

"Aw, it's sweet that you get so wound up by all this, really," Gwen shot a quick grin at her, "I bet you were worse as a teenager though – your poor parents!"

"They're pretty cool most of the time – they're pretty liberal, all things considered, really."

"That's great – what do they think of the Doc?"

"Well mum's all for it – she already thought we were dating!" Yaz rolled her eyes.

"Smart woman," Gwen nodded her head with a smile, "has she always been that welcoming when you bring a girl home?"

"Well, it's not really happened before."

"Oh, right, men before was it?"

"No," Yaz frowned, the sick feeling in her stomach rising again, "it's just that I've never really brought anyone home before."

Gwen shot her a look, "Woah, so hang on – are you telling me you've never –"

"Yup"

"- not just not with the Doctor, but not with anyone?"

"Yeah…" Yaz could feel that creeping cold emanating from the satchel at her feet and she shivered.

"Fuck off," Gwen swore in quiet shock, "seriously?"

"Seriously – like I said, it's all new and I just – agh…" Yaz bent over as a sudden cramp tore through her.

"You ok?" Gwen dropped the smile and looked at her in some concern.

"Yeah, sorry it's just – oh god, I'm gonna be sick – pull over!"

With a quick check of her mirrors, the officer pulled in to the side of the road. Yaz tumbled out and knelt down over a metal grate in the road surface, emptying the contents of her stomach into the drain. She felt wretched, bile coating her mouth and a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

"Jeez, Yaz, you ok?" Gwen had put the brakes on and followed her out, patting her gently on the back.

The younger woman vomited again, clutching her abdomen and shivering.

"Right, we need to get you back to base," Gwen said firmly, "forget the other interviews, you're in no shape to see them today. We're only a few minutes from the quay – can you last that long?"

Yaz nodded, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve, and stood up slowly, her knees feeling like jelly.

Helping her back round to the passenger's side, Gwen gave her a plastic bag from the boot with a "just in case", before slipping back into the driver's seat and setting off at a pace. Yaz watched the town-houses zoom by and tried to concentrate on something other than the gnawing sickness. She closed her eyes, picturing the Doctor, enveloping her in a tight hug, stroking her hair, telling her it would all be ok.

Minutes later Gwen swung the SUV into its parking spot near the quayside and she was helping Yaz out of the car, the two of them heading across the Plass to the hub lift.

"Not far, nearly there," the Welsh officer lilted, soothingly.

Yaz tried to reply but a wave of dizziness overcame her, and she stumbled, catching herself against the water-tower. She paused, panting.

"So… cold…"

Gwen eyed her up, worried, "Can you stay here for just a moment? I've left the lift key in the glovebox. Won't be a sec."

Yaz nodded, leaning back against the railings, and wrapping her arms around her, and watching as Gwen jogged back to the car. She closed her eyes again as nausea rose in her throat.

Feeling another shiver run up her legs, she frowned and pulled her coat around her. When the icy cold lingered, she looked down, narrowing her eyes as she saw that her leg was soaked. She glanced up at the sky and quickly around her – no rain, no puddles – how was this happening?

Looking back down at her leg she saw a trail of water that seemed to have come from the water tower. Weird, she thought, I don't remember walking into it. Yet even as she looked, the water seemed to be flowing from the fountain – soaking up one leg, then another, over her knees, up her thighs and higher.

She stood up, trying to brush it off, shivering as the cold, damp jeans clung to her.

"Get off," she muttered, wiping her hands uselessly over the soaked material.

But it continued to spread, flooding upwards, darkening her shirt, her sleeves, her woollen jumper heavy and dripping.

"Gwen?" she called out, feeling panic rise up in her, "Gwen!"

The water was sliding across her skin, up her neck, soaking her hair.

Yaz shivered violently, trying to wipe the droplets away as they clung to her.

"GWEN!"

And then it was covering her eyes, trickling into her ears, pouring into her mouth and nose.

She coughed, spitting and spluttering as salt-water flooded her mouth.

"GWE-"

Her vision was hazy, heart pounding in her ears, and she clawed at her mouth, clamping fingers over her nose. But it wouldn't stop, the water rushed at her, pouring in, filling her mouth.

She choked, but even as she spat out mouthfuls of water, more came. Kept coming. She couldn't breathe.

She was drowning.

She had come so far, across universes, through time, and now she was standing in the centre of Cardiff and drowning on dry land. She would have laughed, but there was no air left in her lungs.

As she fell to the pavement, she was vaguely aware of shouting. Of a dark-haired person running to her, screaming into her phone.

Yaz lay there, water trickling from her mouth, no longer fighting it. Her chest was still, and an icy cold enveloped her, touching every part of her with its cold kiss. Like a lover. As her vision faded to a black nothing, she thought of her own lover. Of the Doctor.

"What's happening, where is she?!" the timelord was frantic with worry, throwing herself out of the car before Jack had even put the brakes on. She hurtled across the Plass, scanning around for them, the American's shouts lost to her.

Then she saw it – the tiny crowd around something on the floor. A puddle of water and a limp, leather-jacketed arm.

She felt sick.

"Doctor!" Jack had caught up with her, gripping her arm fiercely, "I don't think you want to –"

"Get off," she hissed at him, and pushed past them, shoving Ianto, Gwen, and Tosh aside.

Yaz lay there, her dark skin tinged with a blue, eyes closed, her head nodding in time with Owen's chest compressions.

The Doctor stared, not believing. This couldn't be. Yaz couldn't be – she refused to think it. She just watched as Owen sat back on his knees, pink-faced and panting with effort. Why was he stopping? And then he looked up, meeting her eyes, and she saw it.

The world span around her, its axis shifting suddenly with grief.

And Owen slowly shook his head.

*** TO BE CONTINUED ***