Again, you wonderful readers and your reviews make this easier and more interesting to write... Hopefully this chapter will clear up a few questions you might be wondering about. =]
"Oh ha-ha," the clipped Welsh tones floated from beyond the cellar door, to where Robert stood grinning smugly at the lock he'd just clicked. "Funny joke," Gavin continued dryly, waving his torch around aimlessly, as if he could centre the beam on his team mate who stood behind the iron door of the warehouse on George Street, the one Jack had been nagging at them for weeks to tackle, the one Bethan had sworn was writing with Weevils. Nice move Beth, Robert scoffed, not a Weevil in sight.
"Yeah, you're right," Robert called mockingly down to Gavin, who was tutting his tongue in his typical tea-boy style, "it is a funny joke. Hey, y'know, while we're here, we might as well pretend to be doing something worthwhile."
From the out-of-sight cellar, Robert could imagine Gavin rolling his eyes as he replied, "I don't think I like what you're suggesting…"
"Oh, not while we're on duty," Robert laughed back: he too was capable of Jack's sense of humour. Double entendres weren't just reserved for the ambiguous Captain. "Anyways, get on with it. Butter up for your precious Captain. Pretend you're in a black hole or something."
"Black hole?" Gavin repeated incredulously, scoffing a little and raising his eyebrows at the closed door, "I'm not playing along with your games. Just unlock the door, will you? There's no need for us to 'practise technique' anyway. Who's likely to attack us?"
Robert acknowledged the rhetorical question with an encouraging whoop, "Yeah, it's not as if we're exactly open to attack…"
"Robert…" Gavin's voice was smaller now, timid and held back, "D'you ever think that, maybe, we shouldn't be doing this?"
"What? Hanging about in an old warehouse? Messing about in the cellar? Skiving off work?"
"No-oo, I mean… this."
"Oh. Right."
"I mean, it was all a bit of fun, seeing whether or not it was possible to infiltrate Torchwood and everything. It was just a joke. And easier than we thought. That Captain really ought to stop letting his guard down to any cute Welsh guy who offers him a drink. And he really should've noticed when I started slipping things in his drink. So, I guess you can't blame him for the Rohypnol, classic Earth drug and everything, but the Capron Seven - the Capron Seven! - a modified blend of their own precious Retcon! And then, when Bethan appeared, extracting his memories from his unconscious mind in that alley-way, ripping from his soul the thoughts and emotions that perfectly prepared us to assimilate his brilliant team mates. Ok, so I guess we couldn't have predicted that two of them would die before we got to them, but it didn't matter - we manipulated his memory so it didn't matter! Robert, he made it too easy for us…"
"And?" Robert leaned against the cold metal door, eyes closing slightly. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"
"No! Of course not. Just… where was the fun in it all? What's the fun in deleting the memories of a washed-up Time Agent, then carting his human pets off underwater? I thought we were in it for the thrill, Robert, the thrill! Back home, so far, far away, we promised, the four of us, that it'd be our greatest con yet."
"And it will, trust me mate, the fun hasn't started yet."
"Oh yeah? Well, what about that message? The VT at the Hub?"
"I told you Gavin, Bethan's dealing with it. She's scanned the computer and she's going to sift for any mention of those two hapless fools - then delete it all. The VT - she's already deleted that, and she's working on another dose of Capron Seven before Captain Clueless starts remembering details."
"And what about the guys in the Bay?"
"They'll never escape from that canister. Deadlock seal - locked from the outside. Trust me, Torchwood is ours."
"Yeah? Then why are we off running errands for the Captain?"
"Because," Robert slid down to the floor, yawning slightly, "we have to keep up appearances. He already suspects us as it is, we don't need to give him more reasons not to trust us. No, how 'bout we get on with some real work?" Tired of Gavin's doubts, he unlocked cellar door and backed up towards the main sector of the warehouse.
Gavin, hurriedly climbing the steps two at a time, called to him, "There's no Weevils here. You know Bethan only said that to keep old Captain quiet. What're we going to do here?"
"Unless you fancy modifying his mind again… There is one thing we can do…" He eyed his friend playfully, with the kind of glint in his eyes that hardly ever surfaced. It was the glint of adventure, the glint of trouble, the same glint of mischievousness that he'd had since he'd joined ranks with Gavin, Bethan and Erin as a ten year old, all those centuries ago, all those galaxies away.
Gavin's face lit up in a bright grin, matching the sparkle in Robert's eyes. "Oh! The Life-form Summoning Device! Is that the same one Bethan plucked from the cold hands of that pathetic Torchwood girl before we locked her in the canister?"
"The exact same. And look, the poor dear practically left us the instruction manual after we screened her mind."
"Maybe we should've wiped their memories too?"
"Don't start Gavin! How was I supposed to know they'd survive the night? I didn't expect them to survive this long - never mind send that video transmission!"
"Sorry…" His voice was worn… Their entire team mentality was becoming worn, their friendship tested after so many years on the run side-by-side, outlaws together, headed for the high hills and the greenery of Earth, pretty young Earth, and that strange place called Caerdydd. "Rob, just get on with it."
Robert tutted his tongue distastefully. "Who'd have thought it Gavin? Me and you, the brightest boys at the Academy, stuck on Earth, capturing vermin for an ex-Time Agent?"
"Yeah… Could've been worse I suppose. They could've had us working for UNIT."
As the two of them laughed whilst they worked, prodding buttons on the glossy-screen of the machinery, typing in the data that would easily transport a Weevil from the depths of the sewerage system to their current location - they were silently unaware that, with each second they chortled over their plans, Jack stepped closer and closer to his old life.
And again, across the Bay, Gwen was dizzy with hunger. She was dizzy with exhaustion, dizzy with the cold, dizzy with fear, dizzy with each weak flutter of her heart that lazily pushed icy blood through her frosty veins. How long had they been locked inside? Two days, three? An eternity? A lifetime, trapped in a claustrophobic metal tube with her half-alive colleague, a million years away from the leering gang who'd locked them down there…
Who the hell were they, anyway?
And where the hell was Jack?
Her aching eyes were drooping closed and she knew, she just knew, that she'd never be able to open them again. It was hurting, ah God the crushing weight of the water was agonising, and the haunting sound of the glugging Bay surrounding them was enough to drive her crazy. She was tired, oh so very tired, and she didn't care what would happen after she closed her eyes… She didn't care that Ianto would drop, she didn't care that she would sink alongside him, she didn't care about Torchwood, about aliens and defending the Earth. She was human, only human, and she couldn't muster the energy to be anything but human as she gasped and spluttered and choked in the water that would soon become her icy death gown.
A/N: So, whatcha think? Let me know via reviews, and I'll be happy to attempt to answer any more questions you guys might have lurking in your minds (:
Chapter Five should be up soon, but I've been having a few problems with the internet connections soo...