Rhys had rushed to the hospital as soon as he could get away from Harwood's. Pulling into the hospital parking lot he could still hear the exhaustion in his wife's voice. She had been working nearly constantly of late, and he worried about her. here hopped out of the car, walking swiftly tp the lift. As he got in, he notice a tall red cloaked figure rushing forward to the lift, a basket bobbing from it's wrist. Being the kind and courteous man that he was, Rhys held the lift and the figure darted in, huffing for breath and leaning heavily against the wall.
"Err, are you alright there, mate?" The figure nodded, standing up a little starter and pulling back it's hood. Rhys was surprised to find that the running figure was an elderly woman, her hair slightly mussed from the hood, and her finely wrinkled cheeks flushed pink. She took a deap breath, and smiled warmly at the Welshman.
"I'm fine dear. Just a little winded. Getting far too old to be rushing about is all." Rhys chuckled.
"Gave me a bit of a panic there with that. Thought there was a fire or something." The woman laughed, and pulled out a phone. One-Rhys noticed-that was quite a new model . She typed in a few words, and then it disappeared again into her cloak.
"Memo?" Rhys asked, curious.
"Just telling the missus that I'm here. She's always worrying about me getting lost." The Welshman striated a bit, caught off guard by the statement.
"Missus?" She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.
"Yes the missus. Do you have a problem with that?" The Welshman lowered his head.
"No ma'am. Some of my best mates are, well-" He didn't know how to word it. The woman seemed to want to smile, but kept it mostly hidden. "In fact that's why I'm here. The pair of them are in a bad way and my wife asked me to come sit with them while she worked." The woman nodded. "What about you, ma'am, are you here to visit anyone?" The woman shook her head, The doors of the lift opening up to the blinding white light of a sterile hospital hallway.
"Do you honestly think that I'd be running around like this if I wasn't?" Rhys laughed, he couldn't help it. The woman simply seemed to go against her own appearance. They both approached the information desk. A very grumpy looking woman in butterfly scrubs glared up at them from her seat.
"Patient name?" She said to no one in particular.
"Ianto Jones." Gertrude and Rhys stated in unison, and then looked at each other suspiciously.
"Room A113." The nurse said waving them off. Gertrude gestured for Rhys to go ahead, and the man shook his head in disbelief.
"You're not Jack's kin are you?" And the woman shook her head.
"I'm no one's kin. But I've known Mr. Jones's Mam for years. Last week I ran into the Torchwood group, minus the woman I met today-" Rhys nodded, turning the corner down the hall.
"That would be my wife, Gwen. We were on our honey moon." Gertrude noticed how his eyes lit up at the mention of his wife. Newlyweds.
"Congratulations. Anyway, they were at our inn, Olive and I own an Inn, and Torchwood shows up. Captain Jack, such a polite one he is, he asked me to see our honeymoon suit." Rhys nodded.
"Ah here we are. Room A113. Mr. and, oh you have got to be bloody kidding me." Rhys grinned at the sign on the door, pointing his thumb at it crookedly. Gertrude pulled a pair of spectacles from the folds of her cloak, perching them on her nose and squinting at the room sign.
"Mr. and Mr. Jones. Well I'll be. Last I saw of 'em they were on their first date." She chuckled softly and Rhys shook his head. The pair walked into the room, their good humor dying when they saw the state of the men before them. Both were frighteningly pale, their faces slack. Ianto's face was littered with bruises and cuts, and ragged rings rimmed his eyes. Jack looked practically flawless, his injuries less apparent.
"Blimey. Looks like Ianto took a beating." Gertrude shook her head sadly.
"You Torchwood lot. Always did have a knack for getting yourselves hurt. It's almost always the best man who ends up with hte worst ending, don't you think?" Rhys nodded, unsure of how this woman knew so much of Torchwood, but touched by the level ofconcern that she had. He watched her, her eyes flickering between Jack and Ianto, face tight with emotion. She turned to Rhys, Her eyes clear and determined.
"Would you mind some company for a bit? It doesn't feel right leaving this behind-" She held out the basket from her wrist. "And not seeing their face when they get it." Rhys smiled.
"Ma'am, You'll have an awful long wait I'm afraid." The woman simply smiled, closing the door with just a crack open, before seating herself in the corner of the room.
"I've waited a long time for many things dear. These boys will pull each other through. You'll see. There is something going on with the pair of them that I doubt even this-" She waved her hand broadly across the room. "Could keep them from each other." Rhys shook his head once more, pulling up his own chair. He didn't know whether it was the presence of this woman, or the simple Torchwood weirdness, but a part of him believed the sentiment whole-heartedly.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I never caught your name." The woman smiled.
"Gertrude Mayweather." The Welshman simply nodded. This would be a long stay, and he was glad for the company, as peculiar as she may be.