Chapter 2: Gwen

"Come on," yelled Gwen, leading her colleagues along the road. She jumped over a large puddle and swerved round a lamp-post.

She was exhilarated by the thrill of the chase, adrenaline coursing through her veins. This was why she had joined Torchwood, why she'd left the routine of police work. She loved to get stuck in, to take action without the restraint of rules and regulations. How many times had she felt frustrated when as a police woman she had not been able to pursue a case as she'd wanted because of some technicality? Or seen it thrown out of court and the villains free? Too many. Now, with Torchwood, once they'd worked out what was going on, there were no limits on how they resolved it. And no consequences. She loved that feeling.

She reached the building and drew up, panting from the hard chase. Jack came up beside her, barely out of breath; Owen and Ianto joined them, both breathing hard. They assessed the building in front of them, a large square, prefabricated, inelegant lump divided into small offices and storage spaces rented out by the month. It had outside doors on each side. The alien had entered through the front and had not had time to exit.

"You take left," Jack said, "Owen, you're on the right, Ianto the back. I'll go in the front. Be careful. Remember, it spits acid."

Gwen nodded and went left, moving swiftly to a spot where she could see the whole wall and the door in the middle of it. She slowed to a walk, gun in hand, and approached the door. She listened but could hear nothing. At this time of night there would not be many people working inside but there must be some; the lights showing behind the high windows proved that. She tried the door handle; it was stiff but it gave under her hand. She opened it cautiously. A lit corridor opened before her, dog-legging to her right after about 10 metres, with rooms opening off it at irregular intervals. She entered and walked along, checking as she came to each room. If the door was open, she peeked in; if it was closed she opened it cautiously and looked in. In one she found a man working at a desk and hurried him out of the building, by the same route she had entered. When she reached the dog-leg she waited before risking a glance round the corner. Empty. She continued down this corridor checking the rooms in the same way as before.

She had just rounded another corner when she heard sounds. They were indistinct, deep and guttural. She eased forward and the sounds became louder; they were coming from a room just ahead. She took the last few steps and put her ear to the door; it was this room. She still could not make out the sounds, it appeared to be grunting and exclamations. She tried the door handle, it didn't budge; the door was locked. She took a pace away, looking right and left and hoping to see one of her colleagues. Where were they? She thought of trying her comms but she didn't want to wait for them.

Deciding that she could take the two foot tall alien on her own – she'd just make sure she didn't get within spitting distance – she looked at the door. Straight forward, she thought. She eased back another pace or two and ran at it, ramming it with her shoulder as she had seen Jack and Owen do countless times. She bounced off and only just avoided landing on her backside. She winced; this was harder than it looked. She ran at the door again, aware that the alien was now quiet, and rammed it hard. The lock rattled but the door did not open. She tried again and again, each time her shoulder and arm hurt more. She was furious now, determined to get in. She could hear Owen's voice mocking her for not being able to break it down and she was determined not to give up. She tried once more. Wait, she could hear Owen's voice. She could really hear Owen's voice.

She turned and saw him. He was leaning against the wall of the corridor. "Having fun, are we?" he smirked.

She glared at him, then at Jack who was standing beside him, head cocked to one side looking at her curiously. Ianto was behind them, also looking at her but a little more kindly. "It's in here," she hissed, gesturing to the room. She ran at the door again; frustrated, angry and humiliated that she couldn't do this one simple thing. She couldn't open the damned door!

"Why do you think she's doing that?" asked Jack conversationally.

"Some kind of woman thing?" speculated Owen, crossing his arms and watching her efforts. "Must be her time of the month."

"Has to be. Why else would she be doing it? I mean, we've already caught the alien."

Gwen stopped and turned. She stared at them in dawning realisation. Ianto moved a little to his right, to be more fully in view, and she saw he was leading the alien on a piece of rope, its hands and mouth secured with duct tape. "You bastards!" she roared and rushed at them. Jack, as he was nearest, took the main force of her charge and stopped her as easily as the door had, grabbing her hands as she flailed about with her fists. She was enveloped in a bear hug, her back to Jack, and tried kicking out at Owen who was laughing at her. He skipped out of the way. "Bastards!" she said again, before giving up the struggle. Jack held on to her, just in case, though he relaxed his grip a little.

Owen leant towards her, "You women, always whining on that you don't need us men. And you can't even break a door open." He smirked some more, pleased with himself.

"Jack?" queried Gwen, her voice calm and controlled.

"Go for it, girl," he whispered and released her. Owen screamed as Gwen tore towards him. He turned and ran with her hot on his heels. The pair disappeared round the corner and the sound of their running footsteps died away. Jack looked at Ianto and they exchanged a smile. "Shall we join the kids?" he asked.

"We'd better, before Gwen kills him." The two left the building, towing the subdued little alien behind them.

Silence descended and the terrified occupants of the room looked at one another. The four men were pale faced, fearing for their lives. They had hired the room for the week of the seminar and nothing had happened on the first two days they'd been there. Tonight, the discussion had been going well when something had tried to open the door then started battering at it. They'd heard heavy breathing and been terrified, the tales of random urban violence and gang attacks were suddenly all too real. The two more quick-witted of them had put their well-upholstered bodies against the door, bracing it against the onslaught outside. The others had reacted after a few moments and upended a table and barricaded the door more securely, all four men pressed hard against it to stop the attacker from getting in. There had been shouting and running footsteps.

The silence deepened and no-one moved. They glanced at one another but none wanted to take the first awful step of removing the table and – horror of horrors – opening the door. They were terrified of what they would find on the other side. They had been warned of things like this happening in Cardiff but had brushed them aside as old wives tales. Now they realised it was true, the city was rife with crime and murder. They settled down on the floor, huddling together, prepared to see the night through there rather than venture out while it was still dark.

Early the following morning, when it was light, the four crept from the room and ran from the building. They went immediately to their hotel, packed hurriedly and left for the airport where they changed their tickets and boarded a flight after only an hour's wait. They did not breathe easily until the plane was in the air, on course for Munich and home.

(I mean no offence to Germans, who I am sure are just as brave as the rest of us, I just needed a guttural language.)