Every night I'm destined to wake with it, or so it seems. One of three drowning and gasping. Then dark canyon of brick and paint, blocking a horizon unseen. No escape. Thrashing. Seizing and snatching. The jaws that bite, the claws that catch. Territory. Dark territory. Alone. Always alone. Glenwood of Cardiff, much business here? Wouldn't think so, closed. It's shuttered door the last rest after one final scream. My hands on a throat, a pressure point on its neck. 30 seconds is so long. Keep her teeth from your throat. Giving her a headache… and I still don't care. Three of three. Stalking, unaware. The weevil tries to get away, but I'm too quick. Growling now, a shrill and harried timbre. Stun gun in the rain, amateur mistake, one I won't repeat. Will I ever dream about anything else? Anything… pleasant, again?

Alesha called. Apparently I'm in trouble with her. She ran into Owen in a pub last night and he had told her about my bout of pneumonia. Brilliant. So it seems she's doubly mad at me, first for not taking better care of myself, and secondly for not telling her about it. She said that since I've been looking after her and Jade, the least I could have done was allow her to return the favour. She yelled at me for a good five minutes. It was like talking to Mam on the phone, "Yes… sorry…well…sorry… yes…okay…sorry…I know you care…" This all would have been rather heartwarming, if she hadn't chosen to call in the middle of the morning meeting. Jack just laughed… and of course so did everyone else. And still no Rift storm to open and swallow me whole. Such is my life.

Call this morning from Eve with the police. Seems Kyle's finally put in for that transfer, so at least someone's getting over his commitment issues. We'd been chatting for a good few minutes before she finally remembered why she'd called. RTA, lorry with 'suspicious' cargo. Not much in the way of details, she's trying to get more, but it's sketchy right now. Jack's waiting on Owen before they head out. Quarter to one and he's still not back from his appointment this morning. Probably stopped off somewhere. That's okay Owen, we'll just tell the world to hold off on getting destroyed for a bit. In your own time.

Tosh just limped up to Jack and told him that she got her foot caught in some loose cabling, twisted it. She asked him if I could take her spot when he went to investigate the lorry. Jack said sure not a problem and called over to me, 'Suit-up! Oh wait, you already are.' Jack has the cheesiest grin when he thinks he's being amusing. Tosh seemed to be walking just fine as she returned to her station, until that is, she noticed me watching her. Nasty delayed limp you've got there. I think she was just trying to give me a chance at some more field experience (as Jack seems reluctant to trust me in the field, he still doesn't send me out much.)

Jack's taken to assigning seats in the SUV. I'd reckoned that it was to avoid the usual squabbling. This afternoon, however, he admitted to me that it's so he can look at me in the rearview mirror while he drives. Flattering as that may be, it also explains his often erratic driving. Eyes on the road, Jack.

When we had arrived to the crash site, Jack had assigned duties before pulling to a stop. Owen and Gwen were to be with him in the van; He told me to check with the police, get what I could from them. Gwen questioned why she wasn't assigned to liaise with the police. My guess, it's because she insists on using words like 'liaise' all the time. Jack, however, answered, 'Cause I said so, and I'm the boss. I am still the boss, aren't I? If there was a memo, I didn't get it.' At that point, Gwen actually stuck out her tongue at him. Maturity is such an attractive trait. Anyway, Jack continued, 'Ianto's talking to the cops because he's the one they refer to as the 'nice, polite one' and they might be more inclined to tell him things.' Yes, of course that caused me to blush and Jack to grin. As we got out of the SUV Jack resumed, 'Of course, I've heard the cops say more about Ianto than just that, but for now…' What? What are they saying about me?

The rest of the team had entered the truck as I went to speak with the officers. When she called, Eve hadn't told me Ioan had been dispatched to the crash. Brilliant. As I approached, he offered me his hand and that dazzling white grin of his. He didn't seem inclined to let go of my hand anytime soon, until I indicated I needed to reach for my notebook and pen. Pleasantries exchanged, I managed to ask him about the lorry and details of where it was headed, cargo and the like. There weren't any details. Ioan showed me the vehicle's paperwork, largely blank. I'd asked him if that was common, for a manifest to be left so incomplete. Apparently it can cause some rather impressively exorbitant fines as well as some driver license points and administrative nightmares. So that'd be a no, then. Hopefully Harwood's Haulage has honest hardcopies at headquarters. (Abundant alliteration… I really need to get out more.)

When we had gotten back in the SUV, Owen mocked my notebook. Said I've been watching too many cop shows. Is it really any wonder that none of the police officers ever want to talk to him? I blame it on low blood sugar. He probably hasn't eaten today. Maybe I'll call Jubilee. Looks like there may be more to this whole thing and as such, could be a long night.

Back at the Hub, Jack and the others were down in autopsy, poking around at that hunk of flesh from the back of the van. Don't know how they stood it, the stench of it. Tosh and I were at her station, trying not to think about it, when she up and asked me about PC Ioan Davies. I asked her what she meant by that. Her eyes darted like she'd been caught with top secret, eyes only documents (or a particularly embarrassing tabloid magazine.) She finally admitted that when we first got back, Jack had asked her to run a check on him. Why? Tosh just smiled, 'Jack doesn't like it when the police show too much interest in a member of his team.' I asked if the police had been checking on Torchwood lately. No, apparently not the police, just PC Davies. And no, not Torchwood, just me. Does this have something to do with what Jack was on about earlier? The whole 'polite one' thingy?

So anyway, Jack had Tosh contact Harwood's and immediately Gwen got defensive. I never mentioned Rhys, just that the driver must've seen the lorry loaded. And I definitely never questioned Rhys' honesty. Started me thinking about all the blank spaces on the driver's paperwork. If the office paperwork were similarly incomplete, wouldn't be much use in tracking the source of the meat. Reckoned if we could find out where it was going and when, we might be able to determine where it had started out. Also surmised that Gwen would take it as another personal affront if I questioned Rhys' company's recordkeeping policy. (Thinking back, can it really be more than two years now? I can't imagine how different my life would have been if I'd accepted that job offer at Harwood's back then. If Jack hadn't finally given in and said yes, if he hadn't given me this chance. Could I have survived all this time in a job like that? In an office like that? How can any office function without proper administrative procedure and support?)

Jack handed me a fax that had come in, addressed to me. Ioan had sent a copy of the Harwood's paperwork, as promised. I told Jack thanks, but he just continued to look at me, still holding the fax and not letting go. I waited and eventually he did let go. I took the fax to my station and about halfway there I realized that Ioan had scrawled a note across the coversheet: 'Ianto, Here's the fax, as promised. You still haven't said yes to that drink, but I'm nothing if not persistent. Call me if you need anything. -Ioan.' Jack couldn't have thought… It was a business fax. Case-related. And he'd only given me his home number as a professional courtesy. I turned and looked back at Jack, but he was talking with Tosh, asking about her ankle. Tosh suddenly had a twinge of pain. Rubbing her leg she told him, 'It's a little better, but I wouldn't mind missing the next trip again, if Ianto's available instead.' Subtle.

I'd narrowed it down to three possible sites where the meat could have been loaded, and as two of the warehouses seemed occupied by bona fide companies, that left just the one listed as vacant. Listed, no less, by Owen's old friends at Lynch/Frost Commercial Real Estate. (Note to self: check on the Harper's Jellied Eels website later. Wonder just how many hits it's gotten, if Tosh's kept it active, that is.) Anyway, reckon the 'vacant' one's not quite as vacant as advertised. Just as Jack was starting to assign duty assignments, Gwen announced that she was leaving to check on Rhys. Jack looked stung for a second, but recovered. Agreeing with her, but adding, 'See how much she knows.' Gwen always resists his leadership. Always. Over everything. And he lets her.

So it would appear that while Jack waits here for Gwen to check on Rhys, Owen and I'll be going to scenic Merthyr to confirm my vacancy hypothesis. Tosh has reminded Owen a half dozen times not to forget the alarm deactivator and his stun gun when we go. I'd be willing to bet that one of them doesn't make it into the car. As there's no point in leaving too soon (thanks to a certain delay) I'm just packing some snacks for in the car. Owen didn't eat much of the pizza lunch.

So here we wait, Owen and I, in his car. We wait while something probably illegal, and most likely immoral, goes on in a giant warehouse just a hundred metres away. We wait and discuss if it's been too long for Owen to call Jane Hales to ask her out. We wait and debate the merits of canned process cheese food on crackers. We wait for Gwen to do whatever it is she wants. Because Jack lets her. Because he likes it? Because he likes her? There are times, times like this afternoon, when I'm sure he cares for her. Why else would he put up with the way she acts, the way she questions him? If that's so, where does that leave me? Am I nothing but… convenient? The one who said yes? Winner by default and not by choice? Wonder what Jack would do… if after making eyes at Gwen, he turned around, back to me, and I simply wasn't there? How'd he like it if I found someone else? Someone who saw me as grand prize, not a consolation prize, first choice. Someone who saw me… Someone who just saw me. There are times when I just feel like giving up, letting Gwen have him. I deserve better. I deserve someone utterly devoted to me. Life would be so much easier, my emotions so less… abused (or confused.) On the other hand, I'd be completely miserable, lost, depressed. I need… No. I've written it so many times, that I need Jack, but I don't think that's particularly true. If he did finally choose Gwen, or John Hart, or someone else… it wouldn't kill me. I don't need him. I've proven that I can live without Jack. I do, however, want Jack. And I want him enough, badly enough, to fight for him. He needs to realize that he wants me, and maybe he'll realize, that it's Jack who needs… me.

Jack and Gwen (God, how I suddenly hate putting their names together) had finally arrived. Don't know what's going on inside that warehouse. Pretty sure I don't want to know, either. In the brief moment the door was open, there was a smell. Perhaps the worst, most appalling odor. Awful, but worryingly familiar. Nothing good. Can't quite place it, but I know it'll come to me, probably in my nightmares. We were all set, in position to do our jobs and suddenly Jack tells us to stand down. Rhys was there, at the warehouse, talking with the suspected bad guys. Is there even a protocol for this? I should say at this point, I believe it's all just a misunderstanding, this. Rhys just isn't the criminal mastermind, evil, alien meat smuggling type. I looked to confirm with Owen, and we left. As we were leaving, asked him if he thought anyone would notice the security access panel that now had a bullet hole. Owen smirked, 'Maybe not. It is Merthyr after all.'

Back at the Hub, Ioan had called and left a message; he let me know that the crew from Dragon Rescue had taken the lorry to the secure holding lot for us, so at least I don't have to deal with that right away. Another message was from Craig, that he'd managed to get a hold of those concert tickets. I told Tosh. Confirmed that she wanted two of them. She was so excited she did that little happy dance of hers. Told her I was glad her ankle was feeling better.

Gwen's headed back home, again. As Owen and Tosh were off working on their own projects, I had headed in to see Jack. I mentioned that it might actually be easier, (if it turns out that, contrary to appearances, Rhys isn't involved,) if he knew maybe just a little about Torchwood. Might have stopped him from feeling the need to follow Gwen, from spying on her, compromising the mission. Jack just looked at me. Making her keep the job secret has to be hard on her. Jack glared at me now. Against my better judgment, I decided to press. It's like… us, in reverse. You don't want Rhys to know about Gwen's work. You don't want anyone in your work to know about... Jack just walked away with a, 'What we do is none of their business.'

Gwen called. She's told Rhys about Torchwood. Never checked with Jack, just told him. Now Jack's told her to bring him in. The look in Jack's eye, it's worrisome. He says he just wants to find out what Rhys knows, and if he's involved with the meat warehouse operation. No, that's not the look I see in those eyes.

I asked Jack what happens to Rhys after tonight. He said, 'Retcon.' I asked wouldn't it be better to just control what he knows? Let him know a bit, let him feel empowered at least? So Gwen can talk to her fiancé without lying. Jack again said, 'Retcon.' I suggested that with proper vetting and security, maybe some outside knowledge of operations wouldn't really hurt. Jack reasserted, 'Retcon.' He looked at me with that off-to-the-side stare and continued, 'This isn't about Rhys, is it? This is about relationships, here. Inside the Hub.' Jack told me that this had been Torchwood policy for a very long time, now. Maybe even since the beginning. I suggested that maybe it was time to reconsider a Victorian era ban on office romance. I asked if I could at least ask the others, Tosh and Owen, their opinions. About inter- and extra-office relationships, how they should be handled and if they should be allowed. Jack paused. Not a vote, but input, at least. Opinion only. He said as long as I didn't let them know it was actually being considered. (Did that mean that Jack actually was considering changing his mind?) Jack asked what I'd do if their answers weren't what I'd hoped. If this didn't go the way I'd imagined. I said, "Retcon."

I felt like a spy and an awkward one at that, trying to find out from Owen and Tosh what they knew about Jack and myself, how they felt about Torchwood relationships. I didn't really have to ask, I already knew. Tosh makes herself remain hopeful (both for me with Jack and her with Owen.) Owen has hardened himself further, in response to Diane, and probably Gwen as well. He doesn't want to think about it right now. And as far as a relationship between Jack and I is concerned, he just doesn't care. Right now, Jack is hovering up on the walkway above. He's waiting.

So, fiancé in the Hub. Yep, there was the big security threat, marveling at just how real Myfanwy looked. Last time I spoke with Rhys, I helped him pick-out that engagement ring Gwen is wearing. Told him then, if we ever met officially… we'd never met before. Reckon that was a pretty good test of his ability to keep a secret. As far as I'm concerned, he passes… unless of course, he'd just forgotten the whole shopping trip. (In which case retcon still isn't necessary for someone with a memory like a steel sieve.) I think I've figured out why Jack is so opposed to the idea of Rhys knowing about Torchwood. It's not because it's a secret organization. Jack tells a lot of people about us, boasts in fact. It's not even because it could become a security risk. No, he doesn't want Rhys to know because that's the one part of Gwen's life that Jack didn't have to share.

Jack's doing it again. Making his team feel like employees. He's doing it to assert his authority, regain control he's let slip. All I can say is, I usually like Jack in control, it makes me feel safe. But when he suddenly and without explanation or discussion, goes completely against all standing Torchwood protocol, I really have to question why? But maybe the answer is all too simple. Is Jack determined always to choose the opposite position from Gwen? Even if that choice has him siding with Rhys? Still, I have to wonder (because he doesn't seem likely to actually tell me) if there's more to it than all that. If maybe with all Jack's talk of no casualties, of stun guns and the like, I wonder if casualties like Beth and Tommy are starting to get to Jack more than he'll say (or may even realize himself.) Or is he just trying to prove himself to Gwen? That he has a 'human side' after all. As if you couldn't always see it, if you bothered to look. Still, Jack will have to admit, Rhys has provided some fairly decent intel. But there's something about the meeting… something that made me worry. Jack seems… She's the only one who can make him like this, so impassioned. This afternoon I wrote about fighting for Jack. I'm beginning to think it's too late, that I've lost him to her already.

Completed that 3-D computer model for Owen. Now it just remains to be seen if he'll honour his side of the bargain and write up that report on hemophilia in genetic transfer for me. So I'd finished the last bits I wanted to get done tonight when I came around a corner and almost ran into Jack. He grinned and asked, 'It's late, what are you still doing here?' I've been asking myself that very question. Jack laughed, 'You staying tonight?' Nope. I moved past him without even bothering to check if he looked even slightly disappointed. Just went home, alone.

In early this morning. Well, earlier than usual. (Why not? Not like I was getting any sleep at home anyway.) I was down in the vaults and I ran into the little blue punk hamster. In fact, I almost ran over her. Had the food trolley loaded up with weevil chow and couldn't see her down there on the floor. Her understanding of English is really quite good now. Rarely had to resort to signing anything to her. After I'd finished feeding Janet, she rode back to the storage room on the trolley and told me a bit about herself. There's no really translation of her name, but best as I can render, sounds like Jgem'a. She smiled when I said it. Don't know if she was letting me know I'd gotten it right, or was just laughing at my accent.

Thinking about Leighton Reynolds, the Harwood's lorry driver who died. A wife, now a widow, with a baby. He was 24 years old. 24. Yes, there was alien meat in the back of the van, but that wasn't what killed him. Just a traffic accident. Rain slick roads. But he died anyway, just doing his job. Just driving down the road. Can happen anytime, to anyone.

Trying to remain professional, even if all I feel is numb. Jack hadn't said a word to me since I arrived this morning, aside from thanks for the coffee and asking had U.N.I.T. sent that e-mail yet. He'd talked to Gwen, though. A lot. Now here we are, Owen, Tosh, Gwen and I in an alley in Merthyr. Waiting for the lorry, I think Gwen's going to wear a trench in the pavement with all her pacing. At first I reckoned she was anxious having Jack and Rhys alone together, undoubtedly talking about her. As I came to watch her, listen to her mumblings, I came to realize her anxiety was all for Rhys. She's told me a couple of times now that she's attracted to Jack's magnetism, but she'd never pursue it. First and foremost I think she really does love Rhys. Problem is Gwen isn't the problem. Doesn't matter to me if she would or she wouldn't. My only concern is Jack and whether he would or wouldn't. Right now, I think maybe he would.

They've finally arrived. Guess Jack and Rhys hadn't battled to the death over Gwen. But still, even as we were all climbing into the lorry, Jack was giving him that look, constantly re-assessing him. At least the trip wasn't too long. Owen said he'd concoct an antidote for the ketamine. Couldn't have done that for the B-68 a while back? Jack handed out the duty assignments and I was with Owen again. Bet he loves that. Anyway, when we got to the warehouse I could hear Rhys work up excuses to clear the workers from the loading docks. One he asked to fetch him a cup of tea. I recognized the man's enthusiastic response; it's the same as I hear in my own head every day.

I'd finally just figured out the warehouse smell. It was the smell of a house, a cellar, of Brecon Beacons. It was the smell of fear and flesh and the forsaken. Then we were going inside. Gwen rarely listens to Jack under the best of circumstances; if Rhys is in danger… really had a bad feeling about this. Inside the warehouse I followed Owen through the kind of plastic curtain used to keep walk-in freezers cold. This one seemed to be used to keep the stench in. Almost worked. Owen seemed to be trying to look… I dunno, tough? He entered ahead of me, gun drawn and pointed around the room. Only problem was it was a contact stun gun. I could imagine it; bad guy enters from the other side of the room. Owen growls, 'Hey you, way over there! Freeze! Or I'll come over there and stun ya!' Anyway, he sent me to check some rooms. Mostly storage, all stink. Owen really hasn't figured out stun guns, 'cause he knocked a guy unconscious, and then stunned him. Jack's made it pretty clear, though, stunning only. The bad news is the workers here didn't get the memo. They've got semi-automatics. The good news is… Oh, wait, there isn't any. I had to stun one of the workers. He was filthy. Got blood all over my coat, but at least it was my waterproof. Hell of a day.

It was at that point that Gwen had me check if Rhys had gotten away and I managed to run right into three of them. And in answer to your question Gwen, no, Rhys hadn't gotten away either. Bad guy, Dale I think it was, shoves his gun in my face (didn't anyone get Jack's no gun memo?) and asks how many. I didn't lie when I said, "Just us." Not my fault he didn't bother to ask how many in an "us." But shit! If he didn't tie a tight knot! Anyway, out in the main warehouse, I thought I'd caught a glimpse of Jack's greatcoat, a glimmer of hope that this could still turn out all right. Then I saw it, the thingy, the alien, the whale. I could almost feel its pain and its panic, physically.

Gwen didn't follow procedure, protocol. Not surprised, Rhys was in danger. I'd started working the ropes at my wrists. After a few moments, they began to feel slippery. This made me optimistic, 'til I realized it was my own blood making them slick. Gwen was trying so hard to save Rhys, keep him safe. Couldn't help but wonder what it's like, to have someone so willing to risk everything for you? Am I destined to always be just a little jealous of what Gwen and Rhys have? Jack's immortal, and I still can't see him doing that for me. In any case, we were almost in the clear, then next thing I know that gun is being jammed back into my neck. I've since realized that leaves a rather unusual shaped bruise. So I guess it was my turn to be the hostage, or at least the shield. Jack started working on the bad guys. Still can't believe it never crossed their minds that the huge, never before seen creature thingy could be an alien. How thick can you be? At least they were easily distracted, 'cause I was really working hard on those ropes by then.

Don't quite get it, Jack's the one arguing with him, but Dale up and shoots at Gwen. Ever loyal Rhys was the one to take the bullet, just as the last knot in my binding had worked free. Almost good timing on my part. I did manage to keep him from shooting the rest of the team at least. He kept firing into the air and into the alien. I threw my entire weight backwards, but I couldn't move him or the gun. He punched me in the kidneys. Apparently I never realized just how much that hurts. The rest of our fight was just a blur (to me) of punches thrown (mostly his) and received (mostly by me.) I think I managed to get on top once, but a right cross and I was on the blood soaked floor. Lovely. I do actually remember him aiming the gun at my head and realizing I was about to die. Also remember clicking. Then Jack. Jack's voice yelling, telling me to go after them. Couldn't breathe and I couldn't think, but somehow I got up at the sound of the panic in Jack's voice. The whale was thrashing, screaming, restraints whipping the air. The team was trapped. Jack was trapped and needed help. I needed to find Owen.

When I had found Owen, he was grappling with Vic the Vet. Vic wasn't helping, so I dropped him with my stun gun. I told Owen that the alien was loose and the others needed help. Owen would take care of the alien, but I needed to take care of the rest of the bad guys, all of them. I found the two bastard brothers in the office grabbing cash from a safe. Is that what this was all about, really? Money? Money for blood and pain and fear? I stunned them, but as I moved through the room, my only thoughts were of Jack and Tosh and Gwen and even Rhys. Thoughts of how I could cope if we lost any of the team. I headed through the building stunning everyone I encountered and moved them all back to the office.

Felt rather stunned myself, when I got back to the main warehouse. Owen had to euthanize the alien. Was that my fault? If I'd done more, sooner, faster, better… it might not have had to come to that. If I hadn't been a hostage, gotten myself caught. Jack said after he retconned them all he left them lying in the middle of nowhere, naked. I'm not sure if he was being serious when he told me that last bit. Also not sure it was enough. They should have been punished. As it is, if the opportunity arose again (and this close to the Rift, who's to say it won't?) Dale and Greg haven't learnt anything from this, they won't have changed.

Back in the Hub Jack cornered me, said he was concerned how I was doing. Informed him I'm fine. He said I didn't look fine when Dale had a gun to my head, when I was a hostage. Told him I wasn't worried. Jack leant towards me and whispered that I had looked terrified. Nope, not really. Maybe… concerned. Jack persisted, said I looked like I was about to faint, that I had a frown. (Me? Frown?) Informed him that wasn't fear, it was pain, pulling out of the ropes they had binding my hands. Shot my sleeves and showed him the raw skin on my wrists. Also noticed the blood that had dried on my cuffs, doubt that'll ever come out. Jack took my wrists and examined them, holding my hands in the corridor outside the conference room. Hostage situation? Not a problem. Now. Now is when I felt faint.

Jack took me back to his office without a word, I leant up against his desk and watched as he opened the safe and drew out a small grey-green box tagged Not-For-Use. He set the box on the desk next to me and took my hands again. There was a small strand of twine from the ropes, stuck in the wound. Jack carefully removed it, then ran his fingers lightly over the edges of my scraped and bloodied skin. Turning my hands over he seemed to notice what I had earlier, the undersides of my wrists had taken the worst of it. They looked like a rather awkward and ridiculous suicide attempt. Jack once again ran his fingers over the abrasion, lighter still. He opened the box and pulled out a length of fabric, like silk, but finer, with a glowing, iridescent quality. Without speaking, he gently wrapped my wrists in the fabric and held it in place. I wanted to ask, but I just watched. After a moment, he looked at me and said that this would pull a little, was I ready? Ready for what, I had no idea. I nodded and Jack pulled the fabric away. It stuck like a sticking-plaster, and felt like he was pulling out every hair on my wrists, one-by-one. When I looked again, every trace of the injury had been erased. I was still looking at my wrists when Jack dropped the cloth into the waste bin. As the material fluttered down, it disintegrated into a fine dust. I looked into the now empty box next to me, then at Jack. He nodded, '32nd century band-aid.' Impressive. Any more of those around? 'Nope. Last one on Earth.' Didn't he think he should have saved it for something important? Jack smiled, 'I did. Now, tell me about you and this stun gun of yours.'

Apparently Tosh has been talking incessantly about my activities while the rest of them had been dealing with the dying space whale and a bullet-ridden Rhys (can you consider it bullet-ridden with just one bullet? Rhys liked the term so I guess we'll stick with it.) By the time they had the scene in the main warehouse worked through, I'd managed to get the rest of the building and its various employees sorted. Stun-gunned the workers and stacked them in one of the offices. Wasn't anything, just something that had to be done. Yet for some reason, Tosh was impressed. She told me that my action figure will have to come with a stun gun. I'm just chuffed she thinks that I deserve an action figure at all.

This is my favourite time of day in the Hub. There's a soft lustrous quality to the light. A warmth to it. I know it's a pale counterpart to the light on the Bay outside, but there's still something about it that makes you feel happier, just a little glowing yourself. Or maybe it's the single-malt that Jack's poured me with a toast of, 'To your first hostage situation, 17 warehouse workers and your depleted stun gun!' Here with him in his office as he finishes the last of his work for the day. Owen and Tosh are in the Hub finalizing some tasks before they head out for the night. Gwen and Rhys have already left. Soon just Jack and I'll remain. I'm thinking about inviting him to that new Indian restaurant that just opened. Fancy a curry, and some time for just the two of us.

Once again Gwen refuses to follow Torchwood's rules and once again she gets away with it. And to top it all off, we're treated to yet another patented 'I've got a love life and you don't, you pathetic tossers' speech. Jack lets her do it. He won't stop her. He gives her what she wants. What she demands. And he loves her for it. He watched her on CCTV after she left. Stormed out yet again. He watched her go back to Rhys. Sitting in his office, he followed her every move on the monitors. While I was still in the room.

Over the last few nights, there haven't been any Cole Porter tunes. Can't say that's a bad thing. I think I know which one it would have been. Probably the one it really was, all along. I watched Jack move around his office and I could almost imagine hearing him humming it (It's the wrong time, and the wrong place. Though your face is charming, it's the wrong face. It's not her face, but such a charming face, that it's all right with me.) That bastard, John Hart, had told me I looked like a man who enjoyed a challenge. Was he right? Is that what Jack is… what he was, a challenge? (It's the wrong song, in the wrong style. Though your smile is lovely, it's the wrong smile. It's not her smile, but such a lovely smile, that it's all right with me.) Convenient. That word seems to come to mind so easily. There's a truth to it, a certainty. (You can't know how happy I am that we met. I'm strangely attracted to you. There's someone I'm trying so hard to forget. Don't you want to forget someone too?) I thought there was someone I wanted to forget, maybe, once. When it had just started. But forgetting isn't necessary anymore. I could remember Lisa and still love again. Could love Jack. After this, all this… (It's the wrong game, with the wrong chips. Though your lips are tempting they're the wrong lips. They're not her lips, But such they're such tempting lips, that if some night, you're free…Dear it's all right, It's all right with me.) Convenient. Again that word. I'm starting to hate the very sound of it. Maybe I've been thinking about it all too much, for too long. I've missed the obvious, ignored it at least. I won't be that. I'm more than that. If I'm not what you want, Jack. If I'm not who you really want, then it's no good. I won't be convenient. Because that's not all right, that's not all right, with me.

It was a strange feeling, strangling, suffocating, drowning without water. I tried. So hard I tried, but either I'd already lost him, or I'd never had him at all. But Jack isn't mine. And so I left, left his office, the Hub, the relationship, and I don't think he even noticed I was gone.