Gwen did not watch how they brought in Abigail Williams, who had no relation to her whatsoever, although they would soon ask her.
She didn't watch as they carried her unconscious body through the Hub.
In the soft light she looked like a sleeping princess, dreaming a beautiful dream which was never meant to be.
Gwen did not see a single dried tear which had flowed from the corner of her eye on to her pale cheek.
Gwen refused to see it; she didn't want to remember.
Instead her shivering fingers typed in a number on her cell-phone and put it to her ear.
Curled up in a dark corner, with her back against the cold wall, her own breathing sounded the roars of an engine, and she tried desperately to ignore her own sniffling as she wiped her eyes time after time, until she could hear a dial tone on the other end of the line.
"Pick up," Gwen muttered as she brushed a strand of her hair out of her face.
Answering machine.
"Rhys, are you there?" Gwen said, sniffling. "Please pick up, Rhys. I really need to hear your voice right now."
She wiped her nose and shivered as a cold chill went down her spine.
She wiped her hand on her trousers and as she did so she brushed her fingers unintentionally on the gritty, cold texture of the bricks she was leaning on.
It itched and hurt.
"Pick up!" she cried, before another taking a deep breath of snot.
"I need your strength. I have to be strong, but I'm not. I need to be. For Owen.
"I always thought he could handle himself, but he's losing it. He's losing everything.
"I'm losing him! And I can't help him. Rhys, please! Are you there?"
Her wet eyes, filled with tears, reflected the damp lights inside the Hub.
She was so incredibly tired, but she neither said it or admitted it to herself.
"There's nothing I can do," she concluded upset.
She realized he wasn't going to pick up, that he'd listen to this later and not hear her cries for maybe a long while.
Where had he gone?
"I'll see you when I get back, all right?" she said. "I…"
She swallowed.
"I love you," she finally said, before he hesitantly ended the conversation by pushing that tiny button with her shivering nail.
She put that same nail against her quivering lip as she sat there in the darkness, waiting for the sun to break through.
His hollow footfalls echoed through the dark dungeon and Owen slowly forgot how long a time he had already spent here, pacing in front of sleeping beauty's cell.
The Weevils were howling softly in the shadows, sensing the hollow void which was or surrounded his soul.
Owen didn't feel it, nor did he know in any way if it was there, but if he would've ever named the state of his mysterious consciousness which now inhabited this dead man's body, he'd named it that.
His soul.
As a man of science the idea of magic not only appalled him, it frightened him.
The unknown, the impossible, everything he now embodied.
All he could do now was try and find the truth, to make everything make sense, to find the logic within the magic, and the rules of the universe.
"I wish this could've just been a bad dream," Owen said to the unconscious girl inside her cell.
He put his fingers inside the many holes of the glass walls of which her cell consisted, and he playfully pushed himself away, before pulling himself back towards the blonde girl who lay asleep on her grey bed.
Then he let go and continued his pacing, up and down her cell.
"Just a nightmare," Owen said. "We'd wake up, and everything'd be back the way it used to be, perhaps even the way it should be."
He stopped and gazed at the shadows, scratching the hole in his chest and shirt as he ignored the ominous breathing of the Weevil who was gazing at him, grunting and howling as he bowed his monstrous head.
"Tosh would be alive." Owen dared dreaming. "I would be alive."
Then he poked his finger even further through, inside his very flesh.
"And your fiancée would be dead."
He lowered his hand as he glanced at the cold, wet stones at his feet.
"Now I know I'm being selfish," he said to himself.
"Owen," a voice spoke to him, and Owen saw it was Ianto, who had entered the dungeon.
Owen noticed the sad gleam in his unwavering eyes, although his resolve and loyalty remained strong and unbreakable, and Owen knew that this was his path, his penitence.
He was the perfect soldier to Jack's grand general.
"It's time," Ianto said as he stood in the shadow.
Owen's face remained unmoved, like stone, although in his eyes a feeble candlelight flickered, when he subtly nodded his head.
Later he would look back on this moment and wonder why he did not say anything, why he did not try to stop what they were about to do.
But there was no more adrenaline to fire him up, and no more passion to rage through his heart.
There was only the cold.
He closed his eyes, knowing something had to be done, but he just didn't know what.
The destined future remained silent and shapeless in those moments when that long awaited dawn seemed ages away.
Rhys had heard her call as he was taking a shower.
With his hair and eyes full of shampoo he quickly rushed to wash it off as the phone kept ringing.
He dried himself up a bit, but was still dripping water from the top of his head as he tied a towel around his waist and hurried into the living room.
But by then the answering machine had already taken the call and Gwen was already talking.
"Rhys, are you there?" Gwen said, sniffling. "Please pick up, Rhys. I really need to hear your voice right now."
Rhys cursed as he saw what wet stains he left in the rug beneath his feet, gasping for breath as he manoeuvred past furniture to get the phone.
"Pick up!"
He knocked over a tiny statue of an elephant which stood on the edge of the large counter which separated the kitchen from the sunny living room.
Bright sunlight was shining through the curtains, but it was already dimming as the hours of the afternoon grew older.
"I need your strength."
Looking back and forth between the tiny statue on the floor and the phone which was within his reach, he decided to pick up the elephant first and then grab the phone.
"I have to be strong, but I'm not."
Water was dripping endlessly off his body and head as the rug tickled his bare feet.
"I need to be. For Owen."
Rhys had reached out his hand to get the phone, but then he suddenly stopped.
His hand hovered in mid-air as if he had suddenly turned to stone.
"I always thought he could handle himself, but he's losing it. He's losing everything."
Rhys retracted his hand.
He was shivering and almost shocked by his own decision.
His eyes shifted as he listened to Gwen's voice.
"I'm losing him! And I can't help him. Rhys, please! Are you there?"
He almost opened his mouth to respond.
His lips had already separated, before his brain finally told him not to speak.
He could hear her sniffling at the other end, and wiping her snot on her trousers like she always did.
"There's nothing I can do," she finally said.
Rhys sat himself down next to the phone as he listened to her breathing.
Sunlight blinded him now, so he tried to face the other way, meaning he unintentionally gazed in the direction of the phone with narrowed eyes.
"I'll see you when I get back, all right?" she said. "I…"
He knew what came next, and he always loved hearing it.
But it just didn't sound the same as it used to.
"I love you," she said.
Then she hung up, and the machine silenced.
Instead, a red light started flickering, signalling the presence of a remaining voice message on the device.
Rhys sat there for a while, with his mind lost in thoughts, before he suddenly got up, leaving a large, dark stain of water on the place in the couch where he had sat just down.
He decided he had to get to Gwen as fast as he could.