Please see the prologue for details of disclaimers and the rest. This chapter contains Owen, so it contains swearing (natch!).

Enjoy!


Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!

Tosh woke with a start. Someone was at the door. She sat upright and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, andf groped for her bedside light, and kept groping, her fingers failing to find the switch. It was gloomy and she felt a cool breeze.

Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!

Again the knocking noise, but being more awake she realised that it wasn't her door, it was something else.

Her realisation came from her observation of available data. The pitch, tone, echo and reverberation of the sound indicated it was high up, outdoors; a rhythmic striking. The low light levels hampered visual confirmation but she smelt what she called a bosky smell; a mix of leaf mould, pine sap and floral scents. Plus the fact she didn't even have a door knocker.

She pulled herself to her feet and tried to look around her. It was late afternoon she guessed, going by the waning sunlight. However there was just enough light left to make out shapes.

She was standing in a trackway in the middle of a forest. Judging by the tree shapes she could guessed it was somewhere in Central Europe but with subtle differences. The trees were straighter; a little more spread apart than normal, more flowering bushes and shrubs, there was the winking and blinking of motes in the air as they caught the last rays of the sun. It was all a little too perfect, a little too much like the idea of a forest, rather than the real thing. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Looking down she noticed she wasn't wearing her usual blouse and skirt, but a long blue dress with a white waistband, a white petticoat, red and white striped socks and her feet looked huge in a pair of hobnail boots; she patted her head and felt, rather than saw, that her hair was parted right down the middle and dressed in plaits. Slung over one shoulder was a pack. "Oh! That's not right."

A rustle in a nearby bush made her twist round, crouching ready to fight or run. She had no weapon, so she'd have to fall back on the hand-to-hand combat techniques that Jack had drilled into them after the events in the Brecon Beacons.

Judging by the sound of the rustle it was a large animal – wolf or bear she supposed. Her plan changed as she looked at the nearby trees, working out which would be the easiest to climb. The creature moved again and she physically saw the bush move. Heart pounding, she waited, poised and ready.

"Awww shit! What the bleeding hell am I doing in a bush?" came a loud London accent. "What the hell was I drinking?"

"Owen!" Tosh had recognised his voice immediately; relief flooding through her. She started to move towards the bush.

"Tosh?" He sounded puzzled. "Were we doing karaoke last night?"

As she got closer, the bush suddenly sprouted a head. It looked so comical that she giggled, instinctively bringing up her hand to cover her mouth.

Looking up at her, Owen through to himself that you could take the girl out of Japan, but not Japan out of the girl.

"A bit of a hand wouldn't go amiss. I can't get out, I'm stuck on something."

Tosh reached down with both hands to grab the hand that Owen offered. She gave a heavy pull and was rewarded with expletives.

"Bloody hell Tosh. You'll have my arm off. On my count."

She relaxed her grip a little.

"1... 2... 3... Pull!"

As she pulled and he pushed there was the sound of fabric tearing and suddenly she was flat on her back with Owen on top of her. She was reminded of just how wiry and male Owen's body was. They stared into each other's eyes, panting from their exertions. Suddenly aware of how intimate this was, she blushed. Owen grunted and rolled away from her.

Both lay flat on their backs, staring up at the early evening stars that were just beginning to appear.

"So," drawled Owen. "Let's see what trouble we've got into now."

He pulled himself up and looked over at Tosh, barely making out her figure in the twilight.

"What do you look like?"

"Speak for yourself, urchin."

Owen glanced down and did a double take. He was no longer in his usual jeans and a t-shirt. He now wore a pair of raggedy, patched, knee length shorts, grey woollen socks tucked into big brown boots, a patched grey shirt with a great big tear on the shoulder, and a brown waistcoat. His head felt warm and, reaching up, he pulled off a brown wool baker's boy cap. Slung over his shoulder was a cloth bag.

"What the hell!"

"I don't know, you look kind of sweet. The littlest hobo."

Owen threw her a look, showing her just how impressed he was by his new wardrobe. He sighed.

"No weapons, no tools, no devices. Just two of the sharpest brains in Cardiff. Any idea where we are Tosh?"

"We're not in Wales any more. Central Europe, southern Germany, I think."

"Bloody Jack Harkness" spat Owen. "That damn book he dropped, clumsy arse."

"Oh!" Tosh too remembered what had happened. "Where are the others? Jack! ... Ianto! ... Gwen?"

"OI! TEA-BOY!"

There was no reply to their shouts – only the hoot of an owl.

"So just you and me. We're not going anywhere tonight. Let's get a fire going. Go and get some sticks, dry ones."

"Owen, we don't have matches or a lighter. How can we have a fire?"

"Ah Tosh. Even though I am a devastatingly handsome babe magnet of a medic, as a nipper I was in the scouts. I can make a fire."

"Gosh, how caveman of you" joked Tosh.

"Go woman. Bring wood. Me make fire!"

While Tosh groped around, searching for dry twigs, bark and wood, Owen began gathering his fire starting materials.

The base of a nearby tree gave him some dry stuff – moss probably – and Tosh had brought a couple of likely looking twigs. He began the laborious process of making fire.

Ten minutes or so later, after a few false starts and lots of swearing, the dry stuff started to smoulder. Owen blew gently to increase the glow and gently fed the twigs in until flames began to flicker. Not long afterwards there was a cheerful fire crackling away.

"What's in your bag?"

Tosh opened the cloth bag. "Erm, two wrinkly apples, a chunk of bread and some very hard cheese – what's in yours?"

"Hmmm. Penknife, string and loads of white stones?" Owen was puzzled.

"Food, fire, weapons... that's the basics covered then." Tosh was doing her best to sound optimistic.

"All well and good Tosh, but where are we? Where are the others? How do we get back?"

"I don't know" Tosh sounded angry but Owen could see in her eyes that she was a bit bewildered and frightened. His expression softened. "Not much we can do tonight. Let's eat and sleep in shifts."

Tosh pulled the bread and cheese from the bag and quickly shared it out. They ate in silence, staring into the fire, each full of their own thoughts.

A loud pop from the fire brought Tosh awake. She'd fallen asleep a little. She heard a shuffle behind her, and turned to see Owen walking towards the fire with an armful of wood. There was a decent enough stack of wood now – at least enough to last the night.

"I'll take first watch, you sleep. It'll be cold, even with the fire. We'll need to huddle."

Tosh couldn't help but give a small smile – for all his prickle and bluster Owen was a good man. She sat down next to him and felt his arm fall on her shoulder. "It'll be fine Tosh, we're Torchwood. Grrrr."


She woke again to hear Owen calling her name and to feel him stroking her hair. Opening her eyes she saw the fire at an odd angle. Her head was in his lap! She sat up, rubbing at her mouth, checking for drool – embarrassed at being so close to his... well... yes...

"You looked so peaceful I nearly didn't wake you – but I'm almost asleep myself."

Tosh nodded, still shaking off sleep. She rubbed her eyes and cleared her throat. "Anything happen?"

"Some night visitors skirting the fire but not too big."

"Okay. Tit for tat?"

"What!?"

"Come and lie down and sleep, I'll protect you." She smiled.

"Don't get any ideas." He warned as he arranged himself to sleep, head in her lap.

"Never" as she returned the favour, her sensitive fingertips soothing his brow.

He was soon asleep and Tosh sat listening to the night and feeding the fire.


The light began to take a pink blush, so Tosh began to wake Owen. He snorted, coughed and pulled upright. "I'm awake, I'm awake". Rubbing his cheeks there was the rasp of skin on stubble. "I bet I look rough."

"No more than usual." teased Tosh.

His eyes narrowed in mock bad temper. "Whereas you look like you stepped out of a picture book."

Tosh held his gaze for a few seconds and then offered him an apple. "Breakfast?"

"Don't mind if I do."

They munched as the fire died away in a final puff of smoke. "Right, time to get this show on the road. Find out what's going on and whose arse needs kicked for getting us in this mess."

Tosh nodded. "I miss Ianto's coffee" she added mournfully.

"Oh god, I'd kill for one of his brews right now."

"Come on Owen, let's go. No use lusting for what we can't have."

As soon as the words left her mouth she began to flush; covering, she turned, beginning to examine their surroundings by the light of day. Owen gave her the time to get over her embarrassment and then he too looked around. Two paths led away from their impromptu campsite. "Eeny, meeny..." he thought.

"That way" declared Tosh, pointing to the path that led towards the rising sun.

"Why?"

"Because"

"Why?"

"I don't know, just feels the right direction. East is always a good direction for me.

"Okay" one direction was a good as another to him.

Owen kicked over the remains of the fire as Tosh made sure everything useful went back in their packs. They started down the eastward path, walking in single file and scanning the surrounding forest, alert for anything untoward. In the daylight the forest seemed to be more foresty – Tosh's feelings about it from yesterday came back to her.

"Owen, notice anything unusual about his forest?"

"Can't say I do – can't stand the countryside, one forest looks like all the rest."

"Hmmph. It's too perfect. It's too neat and too like a theme park for me."

"Give it a rest Tosh" he snarked at her back. "I want to get back home; I don't care what kind of forest it is."

Tosh drew up to her full height and walked forward purposefully. "Fine. If he was going to be like that..." she thought.

She stopped suddenly as the path forked before her. Owen bumped into her and peered over her shoulder. "Left or right, o wise one?"

"Always go left, that's what to do in a maze, I think."

Owen shrugged, and they headed off down the path. Three lefts later and they stumbled out of the forest and into a clearing. More of a meadow really. In the middle was a small house, a cottage.

Tosh looked at Owen and looked back at the house. It looked, from a distance, to be a typical European wood-built cottage – thatched roof, wooden walls, fretwork, little windows, and a rambling chimney stack with a wisp of smoke creeping out of it.

"At least someone's at home" observed Owen.

They moved a little closer, and Tosh started to notice some peculiarities. The panes in the windows were transparent but didn't look like glass. The leading around the panes looked soft and squidgy. There was something funny looking about the straw roof. And the walls looked, well, odd.

It was now that she really wished she had her PDA. Just something familiar to help make sense of the strangeness.

"Owen, have you seen anything like this?"

"Not exactly... It's familiar, but I can't think where I've seen it. Never been on this kind of holiday. I was more of an Ibiza man."

Tosh nodded, yes, that fitted with what she knew of him.

"What shall we do? Just go up and knock or do a recce?"

"Recce" decided Owen. "You take the back and I'll take the front, but let's do a perimeter search first."

They slowly walked around the edge of the clearing, checking the cottage and also the routes out. There was another path, opposite the one they arrived along.

"Owen! Look!" Tosh pointed down the path. Owen peered into the woods and saw a flash of red as a figure just moved out of sight. "Should we follow?"

"Nah, it's only a kid or something. Besides, I'm hungry – maybe there's food in the cottage."

At his words Tosh realised she was hungry too. They completed the circle and made their way down the path towards the house. The closer they got, the more details they could make out, and the more puzzled they became.

All thought of splitting up left their minds; without realising they were holding hands as they walked up the path to the front door of the house. The first thing they noticed was the smell – sweet with hints of fruit and spices. Up close the walls of the house had a porous quality. Tosh reached up and touched the wall. "It's sticky" she pulled her hand away and sniffed her fingers. "It smells of baking."

Owen did a double take and reached up into the thatch. "This is sticky too" He sniffed. "Sugar... Toffee...?"

"Are you trying to suggest the house is edible?"

"Going on the evidence, I'd say it was. Want a taste?"

Tosh broke off a piece of the eaves and taking a morsel, popped it in her mouth. Her eyes widened and she smiled. "It tastes like that cake Ianto gets when he feels that we need a treat."

"Ginger cake?" Tosh nodded in agreement.

"Mmmmhmmmm" Tosh had stuffed the rest of the piece in her mouth and was chewing.

"About time we said hello" said Owen.

They walked around to the door, before Owen had even raised his fist to pound on it, it fell open to reveal a little old lady dressed all in black.

"Hello my dears. You look weary and footsore. Come in, come in."

Tosh and Owen glanced at each other and entered the house warily.

"Thank you. We've been in the woods all night and found your cottage. I'm sorry but I've eaten a tiny piece of your house. There was nothing to eat, you see" explained Tosh.

"No matter my dear. You must both be very hungry. Sit down, sit down."

The old lady gestured to a fully laden table. A large jug of milk, fruitcake, éclairs, buns, tea bread, biscuits, fancies, bon-bons, fairy cakes and lots more sweet things were piled on the table.

"Eat... drink..." urged the old woman, as she poured each of them a glass of milk.

Hunger won over caution as they both tucked in. Owen shovelled the food in, while Tosh nibbled daintily – both managed to make a fair dent on the food.

"Gosh," yawned Tosh "I'm sleepy."

Owen answered her yawn with one of his own. "Too much sugar" he groaned.

With that they both fell fast asleep at the table.


Tosh woke with a start – someone had called her name. "Tosh!" whispered Own desperately.

She looked to where Owen's voice came from. A curtain had been pulled back and she could see he was in a cage. "What's happened?"

"We were drugged and that crone has shoved me in here and tied you up. I knew it was too good to be true."

Tosh looked down to see her ankles and wrists had been tied to the chair. She tested the knots but they were expertly and tightly done. She looked around, searching for something sharp – nothing was in sight. She began rocking her chair, trying to move over to Owen so he could untie her. In her haste she overbalanced and toppled over. The noise of her fall echoed through the house. Tosh froze as she heard the door to the room opened.

"Deary me, someone had a little accident, did they?"

The crone moved across the room and effortlessly picked Tosh up – chair and all – and set her right.

"Why have you done this? Let us go!"

"Oh, I couldn't do that my little chick. You and the little piggy in the cage are mine now."

"What do you want us for?"

"Gingerbread is all well and good, but I like something savoury now and again, and nothing tastes better than fattened little children like you."

Tosh and Owen exchanged glances – "Children?" mouthed Tosh.

"I'm going to get an enchanted chain and bind you to the kitchen, I need a scullery girl. He's first for my oven and you're going to cook delicious things to help me fatten him up."

With that the crone left them.

"Tosh, I know what's going on now. This is Hansel and Gretel. It's a bloody fairytale."

"Hansel and who?"

Owen realised that the Japanese woman probably had never heard the story. Hell, he'd nearly forgotten it himself.

"Never mind. She's a witch and wants to eat us. If I remember it right, Gretel somehow bungs her in the oven and roasts her."

Toshiko's nose wrinkled at the thought. She sighed and said "What do we do now? Have you still got the knife?"

He reached into the pouch. "No... She must have it."

"So we wait until she tries to chain me and then I try something?"

"Can't think of anything else to do."

"Hmmm"

They fell silent as the witch came back again.

"Here we are, my little chick." With that she brandished a fine golden chain. She grabbed Tosh's arm and began to undo one of the knots.

Owen saw in Tosh's eyes that she'd retreated into herself. "C'mon Tosh, don't wimp out on me now" he thought.

As the last of the knot was unpicked, and the witch fumbled for the end of the chain, Tosh struck. Owen marvelled at the speed and accuracy of the punch she threw. The upper cut hit the witch hard, as Tosh hadn't held back and knew that this was her only chance.

The witch went over as if pole axed. Tosh used the free hand to scrabble at her other wrist – trying to loosen it. All the time she kept glancing down at the witch, who looked to be out for the count. When the rope was loose enough she pulled her slim hand free. She twisted in the chair and reached for a cast-iron frying pan on the stove, and whacked the witch with it, hard. There was a clang and a groan.

"What did you hit her again for?"

"Didn't... want... her... coming round... too soon" panted Tosh as she worked on the rope around her ankles.

"Ianto's right – you ARE twisted."

Tosh grinned up at him. "Good job too, eh?" as she freed her feet.

Tosh quickly took the rope and bound the witch, taking care to make the knots as intricate as possible. Owen nodded his approval. Tosh rarely let nerves get the better of her, and although he wanted out, and fast, he saw the sense in immobilising the crone.

"Keys Tosh, check her for the key to this" he urged as he rattled the cage door.

Tosh quickly searched the old woman, patting her down. "Damn, no sign of the keys" she thought. It had to be a big key to fit the lock of the cage.

"I'll be back, yell if she comes to." With that she made her way quickly out of the room.

Owen heard the sounds of doors and drawers being opened and slammed shut, along with muttered Japanese, which he took to be Tosh swearing.

Tosh came back into the room with a triumphant grin on her face as she held the key aloft. "Hanging up at the door" she explained as she moved nimbly to the cage and fed the key into the lock. With a click, the cage door swung open and Owen nipped quickly past her.

"Help me Tosh; let's get her in the cage". Tosh stepped over to Owen and pulled on the crone's feet – the two of them easily manhandled the witch into the cage, and locked her in. Not a moment too soon, as the woman was starting to come round. Owen sat in the chair and kept a gimlet eye on the witch, keeping his focus on her, as Tosh went round the room, picking up food and tools and stuffing them into the bags.

Owen could see the witch was conscious, even though her eyes hadn't opened; with his training and the experiences he'd had in his time with Torchwood he could tell.

"We're off now, and we're taking the key. If we happen across any woodcutters, hunters or wolves, we'll point them in your direction, alright?"

Tosh handed Owen his bag and threw the door wide open. They made their way out of the clearing and back into the wood, determined to find a way out.

"I thought that went quite well, in the end. Didn't you?"

"Well? WELL? I was nearly fattened and roasted. How can that be 'Well', eh?"

"I would never have let that happen, Owen. Jack'd kill me. But, you know, I think we work well as a team, you distract them and I clobber them."

"Hmmm, s'pose so. That's a mean right hook you've got there Tosh. Don't want to get on the wrong side of you."

Their voices drifted off as they made their way down the path, gently bickering with each other.

The unseen observer licked a finger, and turned the page.


AN: What's happened to Jack, I hear you cry? He's in the next chapter... somehow he's in domestic bliss with Ianto. Is it too good to be true?

Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Ianto Jones wants a pony! Search on Google for "Ianto Jones wants a pony".