Author's Note/Mea Culpa: I apologize heartily that it's taken me so long to get this series (and, by extension, the "Bound Universe" as a whole) completed. The good news is that it *is* done, and I appreciate everyone's patience in the matter. I'm posting the last two segments today, after which the universe will be officially closed. These particular segments of BoB were also written as part of the 14valentines project over on LiveJournal. Today's topic: Health.
Late September, 2011
For the first three years of their marriage, Gwen and Owen totally got cheated when it came to the anniversary department. There were any number of explanations for the unfortunate situation, but none of them really excused the fact.
First, there was the whole slew of practical jokes executed by their ever-so-caring coworkers. Jack had accidentally caused a cascade failure in one of the main hard drives when uploading the Intergalactic Kama Sutra, Illustrated (Edition #1135) and recoding the system to display it as the default screensaver. It would have been nothing more than a mild annoyance, if it weren't for the freak electrical storm which managed to wipe their primary non-terran-technology data storage device. The one that held the complete boot record in case they needed to wipe-and-reinstall the software on the more standard computers. It took sixteen hours of crawling through ventilation shafts and poking around in never used hallways and closets two floors below the main Hub to get the fused wires replaced and the main system back online. By the time they were done, all either of the lucky couple had wanted was a shower and eight hours of sleep. Ianto's ability to produce a cake out of thin air at ten o'clock at night only served to send them packing all the faster.
The next year, there was the Sysophean invasion attempt (you'd think by round four that they'd at least have started getting creative, but no. Still mind controlled mosquitoes. Every. Fucking. Time). And, of course, who can forget the praying mantis that tried to eat Cardiff? That particular homage to 1950's science fiction had eaten three days of their lives, a goodly chunk of A4161, half of the greenery in Bute Park, and an impressive percentage of the roses growing within the city limits. The only saving grace of the whole fiasco was that it wasn't a real praying mantis; it only looked like one. Far better to have sacrificed some of the decorative flora (or, okay, most of the decorative flora in the bay area) than to have had to explain the deaths of the dozens (if not hundreds) of people required to fuel a carnivore that big for a three day rampage.
By the time their fourth anniversary rolled around, both Gwen and Owen were resigned to their apparently permanent co-dependancy. For one thing, there was the whole "not a fan of celibacy" thing, which had been established back when they were still sorting out the limits of the 'betrothal bond' which had failed to conveniently fade into oblivion as advertised. For another, they were both adults, and even they could acknowledge that there was a point at which you threw in the towel. That happened somewhere around the time Gwen's sister Sioned called to invite "the two of you" to come over for Easter dinner, with an emphasis on the "two." Gwen still hadn't broken the news to her family that Owen was anything other than a hasn't-left-yet boyfriend, and wasn't planning to anytime soon. Sioned could infer what she wanted, but there was absolutely no reason for their parents to think he was anything other than a passing fancy. Some fights just weren't worth the stress, especially when it wasn't as if she spent her days flashing around her wedding ring. Just like the fact that her parents were never going to see the title for the condo. What they didn't know couldn't cause her epic headaches, and she got enough of those at work as it was. From all reasonable perspectives, if their lives could indeed be considered reasonable, by year four she and Owen were roommates until they killed each other (or died in the line of duty, whichever came first).
After three years of progressively obnoxious demonstration of the Torchwood Law of Sewer Crawls (whenever convention says you should have an easy day, you will have to crawl through at least fifteen feet of sewage in a spillway, and you will run out of clothing in your locker after doing so), Gwen seriously considered spending her fourth wedding anniversary in bed with a pillow over her head. She'd have succeeded, too, if the source of her bad luck hadn't demonstrated a complete lack of sense and answered his bloody phone. Of course, Owen had no use for anniversaries at the best of times, so expecting him to remember their wedding anniversary after three years of life burying it in sludge was probably asking a bit much. Given that he'd spent two of the last three biting everyone's heads off because it was 'that time of the month' and he handled PMS with about a tenth the decorum that she did, she wasn't sure she wanted to remember her anniversary, either. Psychic bonds had their benefits, but the sharing of certain things was not one of them.
"Jack, it's four in the bloody morning. This had better be good." There was a pause, and the bed shifted as Owen stood and wandered into the lounge. "Okay, fine, so it's almost six. That doesn't mean I was awake, or that I have any obligation to be pleasant. Some of us do sleep, you know." She gave up on the pillow, pulling it off her face as she heard Owen turn on the electric kettle. She'd have been more concerned if she didn't know it was mostly an act for Jack's benefit - while not a morning person by nature, once Owen was awake he tended to stay that way (the trick was getting him to wake up in the first place). "Fine, we'll be there. Give me an hour. It's a bloody mail drop, they can damn well wait an extra ten minutes if it means Gwen doesn't bite my head off because she didn't get her tea."
There was a long moment of silence, and when Owen spoke again Gwen had to strain to make out his words over the sound of the near-boiling water. "I know it's our fucking anniversary, Jack. I might not care, but you can bet she does. I'd like it to be decent for her, yeah?"
Gwen's eyes widened in surprise, because that was about the last thing she'd expected to hear out of Owen. She had her suspicions about why Jack was sending them on a milk run on today of all days, and it wasn't as if she could blame him for it. It was probably in the best interests of British National Security for her and Owen to be well away from anything resembling a population centre if this year proved anything like the last three. She was so distracted by the unexpected consideration that she didn't even notice Owen wrapping up with Jack and returning to the bedroom with two mugs of tea. "You heard, then?"
She nodded, accepting one and taking a grateful sip. "Where's Jack got us off to, Swanbridge? Or, wait, better yet, I bet we're going to Macross."
"Close. He's got us going up to Bangor to meet some kind of intergalactic courier."
She didn't even bother to hide her groan of disappointment. "Can't they just crash in the Beacons like everyone else?"
"Don't ask me, love. I didn't make the appointment."
"You think Jack would mind if we called in sick?" She glanced up, giving him the best attempt at a 'come hither' stare she could muster on four hours of sleep. She had a feeling it wasn't very good, but she could tell that he appreciated the effort.
"Since he spent the second half of that call threatening to cut off bits I can't fix if we're not there right on schedule? I think he might be a tad sensitive about this one."
"That answers that, then." She drained the rest of her tea in one long swallow, setting the mug on the nightstand next to the bed once she'd finished. "Go, shower. I'll make some toast while I'm waiting."
He paused in the doorway to the bathroom, expression apologetic. "Gwen, about…" She shook her head, cutting him off before he could trip over the sentiment she could feel through the bond.
"It's all right, Owen. Probably better this way, hm?" He shrugged, and she was surprised at the wave of uncertainty she could feel through the bond. "If it makes you feel any better, you can make it up to me next week, yeah?"
He nodded once, uncertainty slipping away just as quickly as it had emerged, and disappeared into the bathroom. Gwen busied herself with the scavenger hunt that was their kitchen, trying to remember if either of them had bothered to buy bread in the last week.
^__^__^
To everyone's shock and amazement, absolutely nothing happened on Gwen and Owen's fourth wedding anniversary. No monsters, no invasion attempts, not even any of Jack's more creatively disturbed exes (they'd run into several, over the years, so it was a valid category of "strange"). The meeting in Bangor lasted longer than expected, however, so the two impromptu diplomats ended up getting a room at a B & B that Owen tried (and failed) to pronounce the name of exactly three times before giving up and handing the phone to Gwen so she could let Jack know where they were. As a thank you for breaking the cycle of bad luck, Jack told them to take an extra two days getting back to Cardiff.
A day and a half into the unexpected vacation, they got a call from Tosh explaining that they'd had a kelvar ship go down in the Beacons (surprise, surprise), and that the rest of the team would meet them at the crash site. Gwen wished it came as a surprise.
~ Finis ~