A/N: once again huge thank you to everybody who has taken the time to read and review / favourite/alert list this!

Also THANK YOU to sidlerocks for a minor (but important to me!) correction on the last chapter. Storywise it's no biggy, Sara's course work was in physics... although I can see Jack and Ianto looking at her transcripts and considering her an even better catch than before :)

Chapter Four: The Events of Life

"Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being. Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light."
~ Albert Schweitzer

"I don't know if I believe in fate," said Sara, finishing her salad and her story at the same time. She left out the more colourful details of her first meeting with Captain Jack Harkness. There were things her old boss didn't need to now about her new boss.

"Someone once said that there is no fate but what we make for ourselves…"

"Isn't that from the Terminator?"

"Is it?"

"I think so."

"Well. Just because it was used in a movie doesn't make it any less true."

Sara chuckled, unable to deny the warmth she felt sitting there with Gil after so many months apart. She knew she still loved him, would always love him. She could almost pretend that what had passed between them before had never happened… that last conversation. All the things he'd said without really saying them.

Since joining Torchwood she had seen more things, strange… wonderful… amazing things… it made her problems, their problems, seem small by comparison.

After breakfast that morning eight months ago, Sara watched Jack help Jason with the bike. Apparently the training wheels had just come off; Jason didn't want to be the only kid his age who still needed them. Watching Jack interact with his son – watching any parent and child interact – brought to the fore all the things she'd been running away from.

Later on, sitting with the Captain in he and Ianto's kitchen, she found herself pouring her heart out to him even though he was a complete stranger. But he was right when he told her that sometimes it was easier to talk to someone who didn't know you.

He listened to her with making judgements, without knowing any of the other people involved and without asking her to be objective. She didn't need objectivity, she just needed somebody to listen without judging. For a man, he was remarkably good at that. He didn't try to fix her problem, he just let her talk.

The next day Ianto sent Jason over with the roses, as promised. Mrs. Chandler admitted that when he and Jack had first moved into the neighbourhood she'd had some trepidation… all the things one hears about those sorts of people… but she'd completely changed her mind about them within in the first month. Odd hours aside, according to Mrs. Chandler, they were a lovely couple and the kept the house up better than the previous owners ever had.

A few days later, Jack came over needing an emergency babysitter, his mother was out and something had come up at work… even though they paid her (despite her insistence that they didn't need to), they invited her over for dinner the next day to say thank you. She had almost suspected something untoward… Jack was certainly a big enough flirt… but Jason was there and she finally got to meet Jack's mother. Ella turned out to be more well grounded than Sara's initial expectations.

Dinner itself was Jacks' 'famous chilli'. She thought, eight months later, that her taste buds might finally have grown back. She suspected that whatever spices he used, they had to be extraterrestrial. When she'd asked, he'd simply offered up one of those little smirks of his.

One thing had led to another... there was another emergency babysitting plea, this time in the middle of the night… dinner… coffee… her first bonfire night (Mrs. Chandler had invited her tenant to join her with her family, but Sara hadn't wanted to impose. Jack, on the other hand, wouldn't take no for an answer; she completely believed him when he said he would pick her up and bodily carry her across the street if she didn't put on her coat and come along willingly.)

Around Christmas, Jack told her he might have a job opening if she was interested. Of course he didn't mention some of the finer points of the job in question…

She said she might be, anyway. If it weren't for the increasing number of babysitting emergancies (she'd begun to suspect at least half those 'emergancies' were manufactured) she woudln't have had any money at all.

Jack ran a background check on her. He let her explain the black marks on her record, mostly couple of write-ups for insubordination (one of which had almost gotten her fired.) When he asked her if there was anything else, she admitted to a DUI even though she was never actually booked; the cops who pulled her over had cut her a break. But she knew all it would take was a phone call to the Crime Lab's Assistant Director, Conrad Eclkie, a man who had never seemed to like Sara, for Jack to get every detail of the incident.

The Captain listened to her side of the story the same way he'd listened to everything else, without seeming to pass judgement and for her part, she tried to be as honest as she knew how. There were times in the past when she hadn't been at her best, when she wasn't proud of her actions. She was working through it… thought she had worked through it.

That's why I left Vegas the first time, she'd told him. She didn't blame the city, the 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' campaign to lure in more tourists, it was just that everything about Las Vegas reminded her of her own failings. She had needed to get away. To find herself.

No one in Cardiff held that against her; eventually Jack told her enough about his past for her to understand why. The past is in the past, he said. All I care about is who you are today. Who you want to be tomorrow. If you want the job, it's yours.

"So what are you doing?" asked Gil; he'd barely touched his lunch.

"Special Ops," she gave the simplest version of the truth she could.

The surprise showed on his face. "What sort of 'special ops'? Who do you work for?"

"It's called the Torchwood Institute. I work out of the Cardiff office." Although to call the Hub an office was stretching the term 'office' to its very limits.

Gil's brows furrowed more deeply. "What do you do?" he wanted to know.

There's a rift through time and space that runs through Cardiff, we monitor it and clean up what comes through… she remembered her reaction when Jack explained what Torchwood did. Despite everything that the world had seen, that she'd seen, it was the most incredible thing she'd ever heard anyone say out loud. Most people were trying to forget what had happened with the Daleks. Jack had offered her the opportunity to forget, at least everything she'd seen at the Hub… she didn't want to forget.

"I love my job," she answered the question without answering it. "I love the people I work with." As completely mad as they could be at times…

His frown deepened. "But what do you do?" he pressed, clearly not willing to let it drop.

She realized she should have expected this part; she was sure she had expected it on some level, she just hadn't thought about the answers she would give. "I work with people who have been hurt, people who need help." Which was how she thought about her job most days. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than it had ever been in Vegas or anywhere else she'd worked.

He wasn't convinced. "Hurt how? By whom?"

"The only thing that matters is that it's good work, with good people. I'm not sitting by while criminals get off on technicalities. I'm actually doing something. I make a difference."

"You always made a difference, Sara."

"No," she shook her head. "I didn't. I was… spinning my wheels, watching people who deserved to be locked up get away because of some judge… some lawyer… a screwed up system where the criminals have more rights than the victims," she couldn't help the bitterness of her tone.

"The UK's leagal system isn't that different from the system we have in the United States..."

She was saved from his obvious disapproval by the sudden appearance of Greg and Nick.

"Hey, hey," Nick greeted her with an ear to ear smile. "A little bird told me you were here," he cast a sidelong glance at the younger man grinning impishly next to him. "I wasn't sure I should believe him."

Nick was caught off guard by the way Sara rose to her feet, capturing him in a warm embrace; he wasn't sure he remembered her being physically affectionate, even with her friends. He hugged her back anyway, holding on just a moment longer than he might have a year ago. "You look good," he told her in a sincere tone. She looked different… happy. Something over here had definitely been good for her.

"You're not looking so bad yourself, Nickey," she grinned back at him.

"Nickey, huh?" he raised his eyebrows in question.

She just shrugged. Maybe working in a place where the day as often as not started out with an impromptu basketball game, complete with a pet pterodactyl swooping down to swipe the ball out of midair had made her too relaxed…. Working side by side with people like Abby, Bobby and Mickey had made her forget how rigid things were at the crime lab back in Vegas… but the warmth of Nick's expression gave her the impression he might not mind if she were a little more relaxed.

"So… we were thinking," Greg ventured, casting Grissom a quick glance as if seeking his approval for something. "We've got a few hours before dinner… you wanna show us around?" he said hopefully in Sara's direction.

She laughed. "I'm not sure what kind of tour guide I'll make. This is my first time up to London."

"Come on," said Nick. "You live like what… two hours from here? Greg looked it up on Yahoo," he explained to her inquisitive look.

"Work doesn't give me much free time."

"Just like the old days, huh?" said Nick.

She found her gaze wandering over to a very quiet Gil Grissom. "Not really. But… I'll tell you what, there were a few places I wanted to check out while I was here. I'd love the company," her glance included all three of them as she hoped Gil would take her up on the invitation.

It came as no surprise when he didn't.