Author note: Upon reaching the end of this chapter, the word 'stuff' lost all meaning to me. Like saying 'gum' over and over and over and—

I've made my point. Anyhoo: Tiffany's adventure continues in this less-cider-fuelled (I promise; see how much more sane that title is?) chapter and I hope you enjoy!

Part Two: Milk, No Sugar

Tiffany woke in murky gloom. Something was shuffling off to her left and she reached out to hit it away. Probably Adrian come to bother her before her alarm went off, the little rat bag.

Tiffany fell out onto a cold, damp floor and the memories from before returned with a nasty jolt. Her side and head ached.

Not a dream then, she told herself. Not even a nightmare.

Tiffany heard the hiss of a Weevil she knew couldn't possibly exist and she hoped it was all a nightmare; nightmares ended. This 'situation' looked set to last some time.

A polite cough sounded, like someone trying to be heard whilst at the same time not and Tiffany glared up from the floor, freezing for what felt like the twentieth time in one day.

Gwen Cooper smiled at Tiffany before saying, "Hello there."

Tiffany responded by blinking. She had the entire set now, bar the technically-a-pteranodon Myfanwy.

"General opinion has it," Gwen said, tilting her head as she looked down, "that you're probably not going to call me by my actual name."

Feeling numb, Tiffany shook her head.

"No?"

"I totally would not attempt to call you Eve Myles. Not at all. Not one bit."

Gwen gave small, soft laugh and crouched to draw herself level with Tiffany's face. "Glad to see you haven't given up yet."

Tiffany tried to smile back. The result was a near grimace. She curled up, staring at her knees, and whispered, "I don't understand what's happening."

"Neither do we, pet." Gwen sat down, mirroring Tiffany in the plexi-glass. "All we know is suddenly there's this girl wandering around who knows practically everything there is to know about our organisation, our secret organisation I might add, and the records are saying she doesn't even exist." The Welshwoman laid a hand on the glass. "Who are you, Tiffany?"

Tiffany looked up, finally meeting Gwen's eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. She didn't really have an answer. What was the truth worth now that the entire world had turned topsy-turvy?

"I'm Tiffany Summers," she said slowly. "I was born on the twelfth of August, nineteen eighty-nine in London Bridge Hospital. My mum's name is Sylvia, my dad's was Michael before he died, and my five year old brother is called Adrian and he's a pain in the arse, not that I don't love him and want to get back to him."

"Of course, of course," Gwen murmured. "Where do you three live, then? What were you doing in Cardiff?"

"I was staying with friends—" Tiffany stopped, her mind racing all of a sudden. What would they think? How long had she been missing? Were they worried?

Gwen rapped the glass, getting her attention. "Stay with me, love. Who were your friends?"

"My friends are Janice Scott and Dafydd Williams. They live a few streets away. Go and check it out. They're probably even in the phone book, it might be quicker."

Gwen laughed before rising to her feet and brushing off her hands. "I'll be back in a while, you just sit tight while we try to get this thing sorted."

The Weevil in the next cells hissed and Tiffany flinched. She'd hated that noise even over the television. Gwen looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "We'll try and get it sorted soon, alright?"

Tiffany just nodded, but then a thought occurred to her and she called at Gwen's retreating back. Gwen turned and said, "Yes?"

"You haven't got like a piece of paper and a pen have you? I'm going to die of boredom in about thirty minutes down here."

Gwen's eyebrows shot up. When she pushed some about-to-be-recycled-anyway inventory forms and a scrappy ball point pen through the slot in the door, Tiffany suspected she was doing it out of shock.

The door to her line of cells shut and then Tiffany was alone with her thoughts. She sat back on the bench-cum-bed and began to doodle.

***

"Jack, you should see this."

Jack Harkness looked up from Tosh's computer screens which were showing an utter lack of information about Tiffany Summers or any of her apparently beloved family. There were many Janice Scott's and Dafydd Williams', but none where Tiffany had said. The girl was a liar, if a very good one to provide all the details Tiffany had.

Gwen grinned at the CCTV, Ianto stood beside her, barely repressing a smirk. Jack walked to see what the fuss was.

Scribbling on the sheets of paper to form large and hopefully legible letters, Tiffany had written:

I COULD MURDER A COFFEE, IF ANYONE'S MAKING ONE.

Jack's lips twitched at the corners.

"Well, is she allowed?" asked Gwen. "It's not like the Weevils ask for room service."

"Heaven forbid if they did," Ianto said, "I'd bet they give horrible tips."

Jack gave in and laughed. "Get her one. Take a few biscuits too."

Ianto turned to look at his boss and, with all seriousness, said, "Plain digestive or chocolate chip, sir? I'd advise plain; we wouldn't want her taking liberties."

Just as serious, Jack replied, "Chocolate chip. Then bring me some. On a ridiculously tiny plate."

Ianto's eyelids lowered a little. "Your wish is my command, sir." He headed toward the coffee machine.

The words 'Oh gods, not again' drifted faintly from the medical bay, where Jack suspected Owen was listening to every word.

Gwen looked at Jack and frowned. Jack saw this and frowned back, just for good measure.

"She's just a frightened girl, Jack."

"You know," the older man mused, "the last time you said that, the 'frightened girl' turned out to be a sex crazed homicidal pink cloud bent on overtaking its human host."

Gwen blinked slowly and then walked away muttering, "Everyone's a critic."

***

Tiffany didn't look up when the cell row door opened, she was too busy trying to remember how to draw. Her attempts at sketching Jack and Ianto (the dogs) from memory had proved interesting to say the least; she was positive Jack really would look better with only three legs.

The sound of clinking crockery roused her, though, and Tiffany raised her head to see a fully laden tray hovering by the plexi-glass.

"Good afternoon," Ianto said, bending down and trying not to get his suit on the dusty floor. He put the tray by the rectangular shaped hole at the bottom of the cell door and frowned; it wasn't going to fit. He looked at her quizzically. "Are you planning on holding me to ransom with a chocolate digestive so as to make good your escape, by any chance?"

Tiffany pursed her lips; shook her head.

"Positive? Because if you are, I'll need warning and perhaps a napkin. Crumbs would ruin this shirt."

"I promise."

"Good." Ianto walked away and hit the switch that would open Tiffany's cell door.

Tiffany stared at the empty space that just whispered to her of the possibilities of freedom and some semblance of sanity...

She shut her eyes, sliding along the bench to get herself into the far corner. Ianto placed the tray just inside the cell, not letting his gaze off her.

When Tiffany looked again, the door was still open and Ianto had somehow produced a camping chair and was sitting on it, sipping at his own coffee. Tiffany took hers and sat back, drinking in the sight of a still living, perfectly healthy Ianto Jones (plus coffee). It was a wonder she didn't collapse with pure joy. If the stopwatch emerged, however, there'd be no knowing what she'd do. It'd probably be embarrassing in any case.

"Not thirsty?"

"Not at all. This was all a covert ruse to allow me to take you prisoner with just the use of one serviette and a silver spoon."

Ianto's lips quirked and he took another sip of coffee. Tiffany tried some of hers and nearly melted with just how good it really was.

***

Jack stared at the monitor. "What is he doing?"

Tosh joined him. "Having a chat, looks like. She's waving her hands around a lot, I wonder what she's saying." Toshiko looked closer at the screen, noticing something about the tray on the floor between Ianto and Tiffany. She checked her phone. She smiled.

Jack ignored this, his own curiosity piqued. "Tosh, can you bring up the audio on— Tosh?"

The woman was already gone.

***

Ianto shook his head. "Nah, don't believe you. There can't be that much hype about the two of us."

Tiffany put down her mug. "There is! You have whole websites – whole fandoms, in fact – devoted to you."

"Like what?"

Tiffany blushed. "Err... you know... stuff."

"'Stuff'?"

"Stuff. Stuff stuff."

Ianto paused. Tiffany saw his Adams apple bob. "Stuff stuff? Like, stuff stuff stuff? That stuff?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Good heavens."

"Yeah..."

"Any of it worth reading?"

Tiffany choked on the remains of her coffee, managing to gracefully snort some out of her nose. Ever the gentleman, Ianto offered her the last napkin. The rest had all been used as tools to help Tiffany describe what Torchwood was to her.

A few minutes ago, Ianto had written the words 'Tosh' and 'Mobile' on one of Tiffany's pieces of paper before texting something on his phone. At the time Tiffany hadn't cared to ask but now, as the cell block door swung open again, she though she understood.

This was turning into one hell of a coffee break.

"Didn't feel like coffee so I brought down some tea," Toshiko said as she walked in. "Hope you don't mind."

Ianto, with some difficulty, attempted to get out of his camping chair and offer it to Tosh. She waved him away, sliding onto the floor and folding her legs to sit with tea cup outstretched. She regarded Tiffany.

"Tell Tosh, go on."

Tiffany blanched. "No, I'd rather not..."

"Tell me what?"

Ianto turned to her. "According to this young lady, Torchwood is a television series where people watch our exploits and there are giant fandoms all over the internet devoted to us. Quite a number to me and Jack, apparently." He supped at his coffee in what Tiffany thought was a rather smug manner. "You and Owen have some too, according to her."

When Toshiko's face coloured, Tiffany wanted to die. This was no way to be treated. Tosh was so... "Why did you tell her that?" Tiffany glared at Ianto.

Ianto became the very picture of innocence. "Tosh, love, it's not like we all here don't know."

Toshiko looked up, mortified. "You... you do? What about Owen, does he—"

Tiffany's mind flicked back to the moment where, on screen, she had watched Toshiko and Owen save the world at the cost of their own lives. She made up her mind. "He doesn't," Tiffany told her, and Toshiko looked so grateful that Tiffany felt bad for her little lie. Ianto merely raised an eyebrow at her, knowing the truth but not saying otherwise.

"Pretty much everyone wants you to be together," said Tiffany, "if it's any consolation."

By the way Tosh smiled into her tea, it obviously was.

"What's this, a garden party?"

Owen appeared, leaning nonchalantly in the doorway. Tiffany saw Toshiko hunch a little more over her tea and felt immense guilt sweep through her system.

Owen continued, "Did I have to bring something or is everyone invited?"

Annoyance replaced the guilt in Tiffany's mind. She'd hated his sarcasm on screen, there was no way she could ignore it now.

"You have to bring something," said Tiffany. "But you haven't, oh dear, what a shame." Tiffany got a wry smile from Ianto for that.

Gwen popped up behind Owen holding a heavy looking thermos.

They looked at her.

By way of explanation, she said, "I didn't want to miss all the fun."

Owen stole the lid off her flask before she could react and he brandished it in Tiffany's direction.

"How about now?"

Author note mark 2: If Ianto really did ever hand me a cup of his own coffee I think I would faint with happiness, how about you?