So, here is the product of my inspirational five minutes =)
Thank you for the reviews I recieved for the last chapter - they made me write faster!


Chapter Eight

At approximately the same time that their boss and former colleague were bumping into one another in the sunny street, about five storeys under the Millennium Centre, a full scale argument was taking place.

The voices created echoes that bounced continually off the walls and furniture, listenable in even the vaults. Which was where a teenage boy, with fair hair hanging in strands across his forehead and serious eyes, was seated, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"You can not just take a BOY off the streets and haul him in for questioning!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because, Owen Harper," at this Tosh poked him in the chest, "he is fourteen years old and you rather unceremoniously threw him in next to Janet."

Owen caught hold of Tosh's hands and held them together before she could prod him again. "He can tell us about Gwen."

"We already know enough about Gwen!"

"But the bugs were useless – she found them. You said so yourself."

Tosh faltered momentarily and wrenched her wrists from Owen's grip. They were stood very close together, breathing heavily and Tosh was eyeing Owen up with disgust.

"From what we heard –"

"All three seconds of it!"

"- we know that the boy isn't her son and they are trying to find out about us! It sounded as though they'd never met before. So what use is he?"

"And also from we heard, we've summarised that Gwen isn't here for her own personal means because otherwise she wouldn't have got someone she barely knows involved in a cover story! This isn't our Gwen and he might know exactly why she's here and what she wants!"

Tosh stepped back as though she'd been slapped. "Gwen is still Gwen."

"Tosh…" Owen protested faintly, realising that he'd maybe gone a step too far.

"We don't know what she's been through nor why she's lying so don't you dare judge her. I let you do that to me for long enough and you are not going there again! Alex is not a piece of meat that you can dissect! He must have family somewhere and how do you think they would feel? What if someone used our daughters to get to us?" Owen visibly blanched.

Not entirely sure that she wasn't going to hit him, Tosh turned on her heel and made to walk away. She bent to her desk momentarily and pressed something into Owen's hands.

He looked down at the photo that had been pride of place of Tosh's desk. It was 14th June 2016. Tosh was sitting with Evie in her lap, in the hospital, and Yasmin was being held by Evie for the first time. His elder daughter's face was screwed up with an odd mixture of concentration and awe. He was perched next to them all on the bed, an arm wrapped around Tosh protectively, watching his little family. A perfect moment in his life, captured on camera.

He swallowed. When exactly he'd gone so soft, he wasn't sure but he definitely had these three females to blame.

Tosh leant against the wall in a corridor leading to the vaults. It was cool there, helpful to obliterate the lingering sense of dismay. Bloody Owen Harper. Bloody arrogant, ignorant Owen Harper.

"Tosh?"

She glanced up, alarmed that she'd been caught. Hastily brushing the tears away, she saw Martha standing behind her, looking worried.

"It's nothing." Her voice cracked, giving the opposite impression.

"Owen?"

"No." Martha raised one eyebrow. "A little," she conceded after a pause. "Owen … and Gwen …and Evie and Yasmin … and Alex; we can't keep him down here! He's a bloody human being. We catch aliens!"

"I know. But we could have a slight problem. Where are Owen and Rhys?"

"Work level, I think."

"We'll get them to the meeting room. I'll tell you all together."

They climbed back to the surface of the vaults in record time, Tosh trailing behind Martha, mind working furiously. Martha marched straight upstairs, shouting orders for Owen and Rhys to follow. Tosh however stopped next to her desk.

"Owen?"

He was sat in her chair, giving the impression that he was looking at something on the screen. Tosh knew him better than that. He jumped, apparently unaware that she was there and stood up quickly.

"I'm..."

"I shouldn't ..."

They started, stopped then smiled at the same time.

"I'm sorry," Owen began, "that I was ... I dunno, being my old prat-like self. I didn't think of it. Not like that." He gestured vaguely at the photo that had been pinned back up.

"I know you didn't." She shrugged. "But I shouldn't have blown up that. Sorry."

"So we're quits?" Owen grinned broadly.

"Yeah, I think we are."

Martha, watching from the platform on which Jack's office stood, cleared her throat. "Now that you've got that sorted, meeting room." She disappeared into the board room.

"Come on," Owen muttered. He bent down unexpectedly and bestowed a small kiss on the corner of Tosh's lips.

...

They sat clustered around the head of the long table.

"We've had him in since ..."

"Yesterday afternoon."

"And why hasn't anyone questioned him properly before now?" Martha demanded.

They all looked ill at ease until Owen spoke up. "Tosh and I were too busy arguing about him while you and Rhys were discussing the merits of the teletubbies, from what I heard when you were over by the autopsy bay."

The room erupted:

"It was the species that came through last week!"

"I was running tests!"

"We couldn't help it if they had an astounding resemblance to the teletubbies!"

"Please don't tell me you used to watch that!"

"I did not! My niece ..."

"Martha doesn't have an excuse!"

"Yeah okay. I'll believe you Rhys; thousands wouldn't!"

"I had to get her a Tinky-Winky last Christmas."

"Ahh bless – he knows their names!"

"Digging yourself deeper now."

"You knew that Tinky-Winky was a name. I could have made that up."

"Don't know what you're sniggering about Martha."

"My daughters are five and two."

"Tinky-Winky!"

"OI! GUYS!" The racket continued. "SHUT UP!"

They all jumped simultaneously and the babble of chatter ceased immediately.

Jack was stood in the doorway. "First, I want to know EXACTLY how you got from important news regarding Alex to the Teletubbies. Secondly, what was the important news? Thirdly, I think we've got a problem."

"That's exactly what I said ... before some moron interrupted me."

"Martha, I can't help it if you have an obsession with guys in suits and a long wobbly thing on their heads. Ouch!" The pen hit him squarely on the forehead.

"And now you've got a dent in your head," Martha stated observantly. Tosh and Rhys sniggered behind their hands.

Jack pulled back a chair and flopped into it. On closer inspection he looked tired and somewhat gaunt. Martha and Tosh exchanged a worried glance as Owen scrutinised his boss, giving him the quick doctors once over.

"Owen!" Jack warned suddenly, clearly aware of the examination. They stared at each other for moment, clearly challenging the other man. Owen opened his mouth to say something and stopped only at the two kicks aimed at his shins under the table. "Martha, you were saying."

She nodded. "Yesterday I took a DNA sample from Alex, as we're now calling him."

"Well seeing as Adam isn't his real name and that's what Gwen called …"

"Anyway, I wanted to know who he really was because I couldn't see him as Gwen's son to begin with. His true name's Alex Rider but all of his files are classified top secret by MI6."

"What do six want with a kid?" Owen wondered out loud.

"That's what I thought," agreed Tosh, "so I bypassed the systems and he lives in London with his American housekeeper/guardian Jack Starbright. His parents died when he was young, in an airplane crash. He was brought by his uncle, a top MI6 operative, and secretly trained to be an agent from a very young age. His uncle died in an op. Six decided, aged fourteen, Alex would make a perfect, unsuspicious replacement. It worked. Since then he's been involved in several missions. He's the wonder kid of the English military intelligence."

"So what's he got to do with Gwen?"

"That where our problem begins." Martha spoke up. "I just spent the last three hours talking to him. He knows how to keep quiet but he did say one thing of note. 'They', meaning MI6, know that the explosions in Russia had something to do with us."

Rhys swore under his breath.

"There's more." It was Jack's turn to impart his information upon his team. "I had to see Andy about that attack last week. Let's face it here; I am astounding he worked his way up so high. Especially when with a few choice questions and my amazing charisma, of course, he'll start talking.

Gwen isn't here because she decided to come back. She's here because she was ordered to. She's been asking questions about us. Tells everyone she's been in a car accident and suffered memory loss and they're putty in her hands." His eyes blazed with his bitter words. "Her and Alex are both somewhat unlikely agents for their respective home countries. It's not the English that know about the explosions Martha, it is the Russians as well. It's slightly disastrous."

The feeling of restlessness was growing stronger.

"Is it? That bad I mean. Obviously it's bad but …"

"UNIT has been looking for an excuse to close us down since half of Cardiff got blown up because of me. Now they have the perfect ammunition. And the Kremlin isn't renowned for their easygoing attitude. I'm surprised we've not got missiles pouring down onto our heads right now."

"Maybe Gwen hasn't reported back."

"Right. So, I want Tosh, Owen and Rhys to bring her back here. No guns blazing please." He looked pointedly at Owen and Rhys.

"Hey, that was one time and I was not about to let Mr Cocky over there win the bet."

"Why bet at all over something as stupid as that?"

"It was his idea!"

"Do you know, you lot have an extraordinarily short attention span – with the exception of Tosh."

"We'll just talk to her Jack. Don't worry." Tosh smiled reassuringly.

"I know you will." He nodded marginally to the two men again, now throwing paper at one another's head. Jack plucked a stray one out of the air and lobbed it with extreme precision at Owen. "Do you want another dent?"

"Hey! How comes you go for me and not him?!"

"Because if I threw anything at Rhys, he'd lose the few brain cells he has."

"Pleasures all mine Jack." Rhys said as he filed out of the boardroom, patting Jack on the shoulder a little harder than was necessary.

"Stay on the comms!" Jack called after their backs.

...

They climbed up the stairs in silence. A thoroughly disgruntled Owen had moaned at the broken lift at first but lapsed into silence when they reached the third flight, conserving his breath. The remainder of the climb was done in silence; it was as though they were scared that she would somehow hear them and escape once again.

As the trio emerged onto the landing of Tosh and Owen's last home, they moved closer together.

"We can just knock on the door and tell her."

"Like a big reunion and all?"

"Tosh, sweetheart, you really think that's going to work?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Tosh flared.

"I have," interjected Rhys. "If you two stop arguing then my big idea is this." He strode confidently to the door, looking a lot more confident than he felt, and pressed the door bell, once, twice, followed by a short rhythmic knocking. He wasn't about to admit it but that had been his and Gwen's 'thing' – their knock to let the other know it was them if it was late at night or at an awkward time.

Tosh and Owen hurried to Rhys's side. There was silence from the apartment; no muffled yell of 'I'm coming' or 'just a second' and there was definitely no scrape of a chain being pulled back or a small squeak as the door opened. The stillness was deafening.

Owen surreptitiously touched his chest. The trademark leather jacket clung to his slightly sweaty hand but he was comforted to feel the shape of his gun through the fabric. Tosh glared at him. He shrugged but removed his hand from the reassuring outline.

Rhys stepped forwards again – two door bell rings, seven musical knocks.

Tosh swallowed. She had an overwhelming sense of foreboding about this entire thing. She shifted slightly, bouncing from heel to toe, in time with Rhys's knocking. Sensing her discomfort, Owen thread his arm through hers and smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way, despite the fact that it felt he had lockjaw.

The sudden crash from the other side of the door made them all jump – literally – a foot into the air. Owen's grip on Tosh's arm tightened marginally.

The third time Rhys touched the door, he forgot about the playful little tune from years gone by and pounded on it.

"Hey!" They spun around guiltily. A short woman in a pale violet dressing gown stood behind them, hands on hips, watching them beadily. "Are you trying to break that poor woman's door down? Oh, Toshiko, Owen! How pleasant it is to see you again. Are the girls anywhere?"

"No, Mrs Harrigen. They're at their childminders." Tosh's face lit up suddenly; she pulled away from Owen and walked quietly towards the door, slipping something out from her bag as she did so. Trying desperately to keep the old neighbour's attention on him, he babbled on. "Yes, um … Evie is in a school play next week. And Yasmin has been trying to say 'intelligent'. The new house is beautiful by the way." However, her gaze remained resolutely on Tosh, who was now fiddling with a small device and holding it up against the door. Rhys was attempting, unsuccessfully, to block her from view with his body.

You're at the wrong bloody angle, Owen almost screamed at him. The only thing that the Welshman was managing was to make it seem more suspicious.

"How're things with you, Mrs Harrigen?"

"Oh … you know … quiet." The door sprung open with a satisfying click and Tosh and Rhys rushed inside. Owen turned to follow but crashed into the first two in the doorway.

"What on earth has gone on here?" Mrs Harrigen exclaimed, having followed him in. "Shall I call the police?"

The term 'like a bombsite' was used a least twice a week at Torchwood. Tosh alone used it frequently when describing the house after Owen and the girls had been home alone for a day. But when Mrs Harrigen, the first to push past the three alien hunters and wander into the house, muttered it under her breath, she truly meant it.

Spurred on by the elderly woman's action, they shoved past her, pulling out their guns as they went, ignoring her cries of disbelief and amazement.

The trail of debris stretched from the end of the hall, into the living room and ended at the sofa. A laptop was lying on the floor, screensaver ('Gwen Cooper – Disney Moments ') flashing across the screen. Owen and Tosh shared an anguished glance, wondering if Gwen remembered anything or not because that was certainly familiar to them. The cushions were thrown around the room and a thick pungent smell of god-knows-what filled their noses. Tosh gagged. A broken glass of something dripped steadily onto the wooden flooring. That – and their heavy breathing – was the only sound in the room.

Thoughts of Mrs Harrigen shot briefly across Owen's mind, but she'd disappeared so he would sponge her off onto Martha to be dealt with later.

"It's like …" Rhys faltered.

"There's no broken windows or tampered with lock. It's like someone or something just materialised and attacked her as she was on her laptop." Tosh began walking slowly back towards the hall. "They chased her down here. She was probably trying to get out but…" The red smear on the back of the door told a story none of them wanted to imagine.

"And then they just disappeared into thin air?" Owen asked sceptically.

Tosh trained her gun on him. "Do you work for Torchwood or not Owen?"

"Okay ... just put the gun down Tosh." She lowered it to her side, although they both knew that she would never use it against him. It was an easy way to make him shut up for once.

A buzz of static that suddenly filled their ears startled them.

"I thought I told you to stay on the comms!" roared Jack.

"We did!" Tosh replied, bewildered.

"No you bloody well did not."

"Listen to Tosh, Jack. We did not go off the network."

"I have been trying to contact you for the past ten minutes - with no response!"

They could almost feel his wrath down the earpiece. Rhys was growing steadily redder in the face with anger as Jack's shouting continued. Tosh was slowly putting together parts of the puzzle and once she'd placed the last piece, she tried to speak over Jack. Her voice worked its way up from a talk to a raised voice to a yell but he still continued.

"IF YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN, JACK, YOU'LL FIND OUT THAT TOSH IS TRYING HER DAMNEDEST TO TELL YOU SOMETHING! SO BE QUIET AND LISTEN TO WHAT SHE'S SAYING BECAUSE IT COULD BE IMPORTANT!" Rhys bellowed without warning. Already jumpy, Tosh and Owen started in alarm again.

"I am getting fed up with this," Owen muttered.

Tosh finally began explaining: "We must have been close to the apartment ten minutes ago, maybe even on the landing. Our comms were working when we came into the building but sometime during the climb, they stopped and we didn't notice as we weren't talking anyway. Whatever took Gwen must have done so quickly because it looks like they didn't stick around to be nice. That crash was, what, three minutes ago so they were still there then. I'd say that whatever it was managed to block communication and they only turned on now because of residual energy."

Rhys and Owen stared at their female companion in amazement. "How did work that out so fast?" Rhys murmured in wonder.

"Jack?" The crackling remained the only noise in their ears for at least a minute. "Jack?"

"I think he's gone into shock," Martha replied quietly, taking over. "What do you mean Gwen's gone?"

"We'll explain later. I don't know about you but this place is giving me the creeps."

"One minute." Tosh held up a camera. "Martha, can you run a trace on any abnormal activity in or around this address since Gwen's moved in? Thanks." She steadily panned round the room, clicking continuously. "Just the hall left now," she said to her co-workers as they stood silently, swinging their arms slightly. She pressed down upon the shutter a few more times and "Done."

"Come on." Rhys led the way.

"Do you ever stop thinking?" Owen teased as they closed the door gently, Tosh locking it again. His attempt at lightening the mood a notch seemed very transparent given the knots that his stomach was creating.

"Occasionally," she smiled. She grabbed his hand as they started down the stairs, squeezing it a little.

...

Tosh turned around as they eventually left the building and climbed into the SUV.

The thin figure watching them from a fifth floor window was motionless against the dark glass. She shivered unwillingly; then she blinked and turned to call for Owen. He poked his head out of the window.

"Where?"

Her head swivelled around.

The window was empty.


You should all be VERY glad to know that I now known exactly what's going to happen in this story, so the plan is that there's only three more chapters after this!
Can I ask you all something? Thank you =) My characterisation in the first couple of parts, does it fit? I'd be muchly grateful if you could answer that.
Pleasee ... leave a review. It makes me write quicker =D