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III. Problematic Exs
A. Diane Holmes
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October, 2011

At five o'clock on an October morning, Gwen could think of plenty of places she might want to be. All of them warmer, drier, and decidedly less windy than the grass next to a runway at Cardiff International Airport. She'd had a bad feeling when Jack had called at 4:30, and it had only marginally improved when she'd arrived to find that Richard was the only other team member who'd been dragged in. Just because she was first string didn't mean that she had to be cheerful about it, even if it was a milk-run. Ever since the Sky Gypsy had come flying out of the past, she'd always been on edge at CWL.

She rubbed her hands together in an effort to warm them, thinking longingly of the bed she had been forced to abandon and the human furnace who had crawled in beside her at half-two that morning. Say what you would about Owen, it was worth putting up with the restless dreams just for the heat he put out when he reached deep sleep.

She was shaken out of her wishful thinking by an oddly familiar sound. It wasn't a jet plane, and it wasn't one of the alien engines she was familiar with - it was lower and more rhythmic. As the source came into view, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. It didn't just sound like the Sky Gypsy, it was the Sky Gypsy.

As the plane taxied to the off-ramp, Gwen swallowed hard and reminded herself that it didn't mean anything. Even if it was Diane, she'd never stick around. How bad could it be?

--...--...--

Three hours later, Tosh arrived at work to find Richard asleep at the information desk, and Gwen curled up on the couch in the Hub under a blanket scavenged from somewhere. After a cursory inspection, including a scan of the Hub's security systems, revealed nothing out of the ordinary, Tosh decided to turn to what was fast becoming the second best source of gossip in the Hub: Richard in Reception. She initiated the next automated search on her list, made two cups of strong tea, and took the lift up to the tourism office.

She set one of the mugs down next to Richard's head, shaking him gently.

"What?" He blinked, sitting up with a start and nearly falling off his chair.

She smiled kindly. "I gather it's been a long morning, thought you might like a cup of tea."

He blinked again, but managed to find the mug of tea and take a long draught. When he set the mug down, he looked much more alert. "Long morning. I guess you could say that."

"Anything interesting?"

He considered the question for a moment, taking another sip of his tea. "Let me ask you something. Do you ever get used to the time travellers?"

"Time travellers?" She took a sip of her own tea, wishing not for the first time that Ianto wasn't quite so possessive of his coffee maker. Time travel brought up memories she'd rather not go digging about in. "I suppose as much as you get used to anything at Torchwood. It comes from working on the Rift." She frowned in concern. "Why? What happened?"

"Well, nothing, really. Compared to the last time Jack dragged me out into the field in the middle of the night, this was down right normal." He took another sip of tea, finishing off the last of it and setting the empty mug down on the desk. "I suppose that's what's so strange about it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. No aliens, no explosions, nothing. Just one of them old aeroplanes, like you see in the films. Lands, pulls up and out hops the pilot. She knew Jack, which I guess is no surprise when you think about it."

"No, I guess not." Tosh hid a grin behind her mug as she took another sip of tea. She paused as another option occurred to her, anxiety replacing levity. Especially in light of Gwen's location curled up on the couch in the Hub, because that just screamed domestic disturbance. "Wait, the plane. Did you happen to catch the name?"

Richard frowned, peering off into the middle distance in that odd way he had when recalling details. "Sea, no, wait, Sky Gypsy, that was it."

Tosh paled as her worries were confirmed, various details clicking into place. "The pilot, is she still here?"

Richard eyed her curiously. "No, flew out half an hour after she landed. Said something about the weather being right." He shook his head absently, stretching until his back cracked and pretending not to notice how relieved she looked. "Jack said it was all right. Did you know her?"

Tosh shook her head in the negative, letting out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. So Diane had come and gone again. God, she hoped that was the end of it. After a contemplative silence, she straightened up and grabbed Richard's empty mug. "Well, best get back to it." She reached over, using her free hand to press the button which opened the door to the Hub. "Do you need anything?"

"Three hours of sleep and a caffeine IV?"

"I'll see what I can do. Ianto's on Armageddon Leave, though, so don't get your hopes up. Something about a bunch of kelvar tourists popping in late last night."

"Duly noted. I-" He was cut off by the opening of the front door. Tosh didn't think much of it until she heard his next words. "Owen, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Kid. Just a cold."

Tosh paused at the hoarseness of his voice, and re-entered the front office. She frowned as she caught sight of the doctor. "Owen, he's right. You don't look well." She stepped forward, placing a hand to his cheek and then his forehead. "How long have you been feverish?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped at her glare. "A few hours, maybe. I'll be fine once I get some DayQuil, promise. Nothing serious. I'll just sleep on the couch until we get a call."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Owen."

Tosh glanced over at Richard in surprise, and wondered how much he'd seen when Diane had popped in earlier - how much he'd guessed. "He's right, Owen. There's nothing that needs to be done right now that can't wait, and I'm sure Jack will understand." Her frown deepened as he swayed unsteadily and she placed a hand on his arm to stabilize him. "Owen, I'm not joking. It was a Kelvar ship last night, right? They can carry nasty bugs, you know that. You need to be home in bed, for at least the next forty-eight hours. You're no good to us like this."

Owen shook off her hand, making for the door to the Hub. "Jack called, said he needed to see me ASAP. Important, he said. You want to be the one to tell him I'm not coming down?"

"I will." Richard's declaration shocked both senior members, and the turned their attention back to the receptionist. "Jack didn't know you were ill, Owen. You go down now, you run the risk of getting her sick. It can wait a day or two."

Tosh blinked at the non-sequitor, because he couldn't possibly be talking about Gwen. "Her who?"

"The baby, of course." Richard leaned over and rummaged around in one of the drawers, pulling out a telephone directory.

Owen opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but seemed to think better of it. "You know, I'll just be home. In bed. I don't do screaming children, of any species. I'm sure Tosh can give it a once-over if that's what Jack needs." He turned and walked out, waving a vague goodbye.

"That was easier than I expected." Tosh paused, studying his retreating figure for a moment with a faint concern about his ability to drive. Then the conversation caught up with her. "Wait a minute, baby?"

Richard looked up from putting away the directory. "Didn't I mention? That's what the lady pilot did. Dropped off a kid. Pretty little thing. You know, I'd never realized Gwen was so good with children."

"And...That's why Jack needed Owen in. Oh, God."

"I would assume...Tosh? Tosh?" Richard sighed, looking around at the now-empty tourist office before hitting the button to close the Hub access. Not like it was the first time.

--...--...--

Between one thing and another, Gwen was kept busy enough that she only noted Owen's absence in passing for the three days he was down with a Kelvar flu. He'd been scheduled off for the first day barring emergencies, and while the young one was a handful, Gwen hardly considered her an emergency. The second and third days had been full of anxiety and activity, sleeping on the couch in the Hub when she could. She hadn't been home the entire time, Tosh dropping by the flat in the evenings to make sure that Owen was riding out the worst of the virus attacking his system without any unanticipated symptoms.

Dropping onto the couch in her lounge for the first time in four days, Gwen tried to sort through the events that had led to her current situation. The more she concentrated, the more things tried to blur. If she hadn't known it was simple exhaustion, she'd have suspected Ianto of slipping something into her coffee.

--...--...--

The first morning felt as if it had happened to someone else. She hadn't known how to react when Diane had pulled the bundled infant from the plane, never mind when she'd handed said infant to Gwen with a "could you hold her for me?" and then dismissed the two completely.

Gwen had bitten her tongue at the brush off, and turned her attention to the child, who was staring up at her with lively dark eyes. As Gwen shifted to adjust her jacket and keep the rain from soaking the little one, she allowed herself some small satisfaction as Jack lit into the aviatrix. That satisfaction deepened as the disagreement escalated, and she smiled conspiratorially down at the baby. It might be petty, but Diane had always been one of those things she and Owen didn't discuss; despite four years of marriage, she still didn't know exactly what the two had shared, and it worried her more than she wanted to admit that the woman had now returned. It wasn't that she thought he'd leave her - the bond prevented that - it was more the slap in the face of knowing that someone else could make him happier.

When the baby began to fuss at the raised voices, Gwen caught Richard's attention and nodded toward the far side of the green before walking away from the small group. She would have liked to overhear the discussion, but she knew it could wait. Diane would be around for a while, if the events of five years earlier were any indication, and even if Jack said nothing, Richard could surely be convinced.

The sound of a propeller starting up had pulled Gwen's attention away from her small charge, and to her horror she looked up to see the Sky Gypsy turning onto the main runway. Gwen tightened her grip on the child and crossed the green as quickly as she could in the rain. "Jack! Wait, she can't leave!"

She'd stopped cold at the look on Jack's face, a mixture between sympathy and something far darker. His voice was quiet, but with the edge of command that signalled arguing to be a bad idea. "She can, and she is, Gwen. The child has been granted sanctuary under Section 45 of Torchwood's Operational Guidelines."

"Section 45? But that would mean..."

"I'm sorry, Gwen. Diane said that she's Owen's."

"And you just took her word for it?"

Jack looked away, watching the plane as it rose into the sky. "Gwen, she'll have a better life here than she would hopping through time; trust me on that." He shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the wind. "I wouldn't wish that kind of existence on anyone, much less a child. Tosh can run the required DNA check when she gets in, and if it's a match I'll call Owen in, but it'll be the same end result either way." He turned back to Gwen, glancing down at the baby in her arms who was peering around with curious eyes. "In the meantime, I know it's awkward, but I'd appreciate it if you could continue to look after the little one until we've got things sorted out. She seems to like you, and it shouldn't be more than a day or two. I'd volunteer Ianto, but I think he'd kill me in my sleep, and that always makes a mess of the sheets."

"I, um." Gwen blinked, trying to take in what he'd asked. What he'd said. There was a degree of sense to his words, but she was having trouble finding it.

"Great." He turned, walking off the green toward the "Official Vehicles" car park. "Are you coming?"

As always, Gwen had followed, misgivings though she might have had. Jack was right in one respect, the child was not responsible for the faults of her, and she certainly wasn't responsible for the nature of her arrival. It was Richard, of all people, who had come up with a name for her: Erin, because she had arrived from the West.

Gwen spent most of the day reviewing files with the baby in a makeshift sling, and found herself growing surprisingly attached to the little girl. When Jack called her into his office at the end of the day, Gwen had known what he was going to tell her. The test had been positive, and her life had just become a lot more complicated.

"I'm going to have to discuss this with Owen, of course, but since Tosh says he's going to be out at least two days, I wanted to talk to you." Jack folded his hands on the table, giving her an appraising glance. "How are you handling all of this?"

Gwen wanted to laugh, but she had a feeling she'd end up in a cell if she followed through on the inclination. Instead, she adjusted Erin's sling, fussing with the fabric for a long moment before answering. "I'm doing all right, Jack. It's a shock, yeah, but it's not like it could be. Not like it would have been two years ago. I just, I don't know. I guess it could be worse, yeah?"

Jack nodded slowly. "As long as you keep the fallout out of the Hub, I'm going to take your word on that. It starts boiling over, I'm going to make it my business. Are we clear?"

"Of course."

"Right, now onto the red tape. Because he's not here to make the initial decisions and we're operating on a time line, they fall to you. As Owen's legal spouse, Torchwood policy says that your name goes on the birth certificate and in the modified hospital records." Jack opened one of the folders on his desk and turned it around so that it faced Gwen. "There are some forms I'm going to need you to fill out before we can get the adoption paperwork under way."

Gwen blinked, surprised even though she knew she shouldn't be. "A-adoption? Isn't this jumping the gun a bit, Jack?"

"Gwen, this is Torchwood. You and Owen are both Torchwood. That means you're on-call seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I will not condone putting a child into that kind of home. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to the child."

Gwen fidgeted with the sling, smoothing down a few locks of Erin's hair. "What if one of us left?"

"It's not that simple, Gwen. If either of you left, you'd have to leave everything. Not just Torchwood, but your home, your lover. You can't leave Torchwood and maintain a relationship with someone on the inside; retcon simply doesn't hold up to that level of constant stimulation."

"Everything?"

"Everything. There are reasons why field agents are discouraged from having children, Gwen. It was one thing at Torchwood One, where there were research and archiving positions. Hell, even Torchwood Two is better suited to kids than we are. Here, it's just not an option. And no, a transfer is not an option. Torchwood Two is a one to two man outpost."

Gwen cradled Erin through the sling, carefully keeping her voice at a reasonable level. "I know, Jack. Owen and I, we agreed. No kids. I know we can't keep her, I don't even know if Owen would want to. But I was a PC before I was Torchwood, and the system doesn't always work. Erin might not be mine, but you said so yourself - she deserves the best we can do for her. I don't want her falling through the cracks."

"Gwen, this is the best we can do for her. It's also not an option; I can make it an order if I have to."

Gwen looked away, gritting her teeth. It was always Jack's definition of 'the best.' She took a deep breath, assessing her options as she let it out. "Three days."

"Gwen-"

"Three days, Jack. If I can't find a better option, I'll sign the papers. Owen will be up and about by then, and Tosh said he should no longer be contagious. Just. Let me try, Jack. I can't not try."

--...--...--

"Morning, Sunshine."

Gwen stirred, batting ineffectually at the hand gently shaking her shoulder. "Not morning."

There was a gentle chuckle, and a welcome resurgence of the coherent emotions she associated with a waking, fully cognisant Owen. "Owen?"

There was a sneeze, and she opened one eye tentatively, finding Owen blowing his nose as he perched on the arm of the couch. "Jack called, said something about taking an extra day."

She sat up abruptly, and only just missed hitting her head on Owen's chin. "What time is it?"

"Half-eleven. Jack also said you hadn't been sleeping much. I get sick, and the whole bloody place falls apart, is that it?" His tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of anxiety behind it.

She slumped back against the couch, closing her eyes for a moment before forcing herself into a more vertical position for the duration. She took a deep breath, and tried to figure out how to explain things. She waved at the empty end of the couch. "Sit down."

He complied, watching her warily. She could still see signs of the virus, but nothing like what Tosh had described two days ago. The tech genius' estimate had been spot on; the fever was gone.

"How much do you remember of the last few days?"

"I was sick, not bloody dead. You're talking about the kid." It was a statement, not a question.

Gwen raised her hands in a pacifying gesture. "Your fever was high enough that Tosh was concerned. She said you might not remember things too well, and I needed to know where I stood."

Something in her voice caused him to pause his grumbling, a flavour to the expected anxiety which tinted their conversation. "Gwen..."

Gwen pushed herself off the couch, and paced to the kitchen and back before settling again, ringing her hands. "I called James."

"You what?"

She looked away, speaking so softly he had to strain to make out her words. "I didn't know what else to do, Owen. Jack says we have to sign her over. I know it's the best option, but I don't want to give her up. There's no telling what kind of life she'd have. I've seen things, Owen, when I was a PC. Most of the time it works, but what about when it doesn't? What if she doesn't place, or something happens? I can't put her in that position. I won't."

He reached over, and gently took her hands in his own, stilling them. "I'm not mad. Strike that, I'm bloody furious. But not with you. Because we shouldn't be having this chat. That was the whole point in me gettin' fixed. And now, not only is there a kid, but Jack decides it's my problem? It was one night, five years ago. You shouldn't have to pay for that."

"But I do, Owen. And I, I don't mind. Honestly. She's yours, too, and that counts for something. I just." She took a deep breath, looking up and holding his gaze. "I want to do what's best for her."

"So you called James."

"You weren't here, Owen. You got sick, and that's not your fault, but Jack gave me three days to sort things or he'd decide for me. Tosh said two days, but she was guessing. James, he's been good to us, to me. And to be fair, I called Janet. She brought James into it. It was either them or your mother."

Owen winced and looked away. "Right."

"I won't say I'm sorry, Owen. Please don't ask me to."

"Fine. Damage is done at this point. And you're right, about the fostering system." He stared contemplatively at the box of tissues on the coffee table. "I worked in an A&E for a while, and it sticks with you." He shook his head, reaching for a tissue and blowing his nose before returning his attention to Gwen. "Well, are you going to tell me what they said? Or do I have to play twenty questions? Usually I can't get you to bloody shut up."

"Oi, no need for that." She reached out and slapped his arm before sobering. "It took some work, but they said they could take Erin five days a week, nights too, and emergencies. With Richard settling in, Jack's agreed to honour the Armageddon Leave rota. One day a week guaranteed off unless the world is ending. That means we'd only have her two days a week, and I think we could manage that. I think we should at least try."

Owen massaged the bridge of his nose, a headache forming that had nothing to do with the congestion in his sinuses. "What does Jack think?"

"He's not happy, but he said he'll give it a go. He likes her, even though he doesn't want to admit it. They all do."

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. "I'd probably be a shit father, Gwen. Not a lot of role models rattling about in the closet. Be a shame if I end up doing more harm than good, love."

"That's not going to happen, Owen. Never mind James, I won't let that happen."

He took a moment to enjoy the sincerity of her statement before moving on. "She'd stay out of Torchwood."

Gwen nodded, understanding the wealth of meaning behind the simple statement. "Completely. She never hears anything; she never sees anything."

He straightened, turning to face her again. "I know I'm going to regret this, but do I get to meet her before I sign away the next twenty years of my life?"

Gwen beamed, leaning over and hugging him tightly. She slid into his lap, and kissed him the way she knew he loved, passionate and dirty. When she broke away to catch her breath, she ghosted kisses across his cheek before pausing at his ear. "Thank you, Owen."

"Oi! I didn't say yes!"

She pulled back and grinned. "You said 'maybe'. I can work with maybe."

Finis