A/N: Set at the end of Season 1 Episode 1 ('Everything Changes').

Gwen sat fretfully in the small underground office as she waited to learn her fate. Having remembered Torchwood after being given an amnesia drug and witnessed all she'd seen - all of which was beyond classified - she couldn't imagine they'd let her live. Would it be quick? An overdose of the same drug sending her off to a never-ending sleep, or a bullet in the head? Or would it be long, drawn-out and painful, bleeding to death from a stab-wound from that evil-looking knife?

"Right, let's go."

She hadn't heard Captain Jack Harkness - if that was even his name - approach, and jumped nervously. "Go where?"

"You'll see." He was pulling his coat on, looking at her expectantly.

"I guess I don't get a choice anyway, do I?"

He smiled just a little. "No, you don't." He held his hand out to her, waiting for her to take it. "Don't want you running off," he said with a broader smile that showed his dimples and perfect teeth. It worried her a little that she'd noticed - especially the dimples. She took his hand slowly, standing up.

Gwen decided she needed her head examined when she found the gentle squeeze of her hand vaguely reassuring. The guy had drugged her. But, she reasoned with herself, he hadn't actually hurt her in any way. Even now, as he led her by the hand to God knew where, there was no force, no threat. He could have killed her already if he'd wanted to. But he hadn't.

As they emerged onto a rooftop - the Millennium Centre, she realised - a cold terror swept over her as she envisaged what a fall from there would do to her. Was that what he was planning, to push her off? Make it look like suicide, or an accident?

He was still holding her hand, just gazing over the city. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked in trepidation.

She wasn't expecting him to laugh teasingly and lean in a little closer, asking with a hint of flirtation, "What would you like me to do to you?" She took an unnerved step backwards, and was immediately halted by his hand tightening round hers. "Careful; one misstep and you could find yourself rolling off the edge."

"Is that what you're planning?" she demanded. "Pushing me off the roof?"

"You really are into your dramatics, aren't you? If I wanted you off the roof I'd have tossed you over the edge by now, rather than holding onto your hand to make sure you don't fall."

"So… why are we here?"

"It's a nice view," he shrugged. "Also, nobody can eavesdrop onto our conversation up here, so we can talk more openly."

"Talk… about what?" she asked hesitantly.

"About what happened earlier," he replied patiently. "There's a world of questions in those green eyes of yours. A world of curiosity." He let go of her hand cautiously, and waited, hands in the pockets of his coat. "So. Ask."

The big reveal before he kills me, like some Bond villain? she wondered. 'No, Mr.Bond, I expect you to die…' "Owen and Toshiko… you didn't tell them you were shot in the head, and survived."

"You didn't tell them either. Followed my lead. Keep doing that, and you might get through this."

She wondered briefly if that was Harkness-speak for 'keep your mouth shut and I won't kill you.' "But she killed you," she objected, turning her head to look at him.

He met her questioning gaze and held it for a moment, before saying, "I can't die."

He's a nutter, a raving lunatic. I'm on a rooftop with a madman who thinks he's immortal. Then again… he did die. Right in front of me. Shot in the middle of his forehead at point-blank range, and I saw it with my own eyes. "Okay," she said unwillingly.

"But I can't." He looked away again. "Something happened to me a while back. Long story. And far away. But I was killed, and then I was brought back to life, and ever since then… I can't die."

"But how…?"

"I don't know. One day, I'll find a Doctor, the right sort of Doctor, and maybe he can explain it. But until then…"

"Nothing kills you?" She wondered, perhaps a little inappropriately, how many times that had been put that to the test, and in what ways.

"Well. Kinda freaks people out, so… Best if you don't say anything."

There couldn't be a good reason for him to be telling her this, she thought. To be trusting her with that information. "It doesn't matter anyway. You'll only wipe my memory again," she said accusingly, with some bitterness.

He turned his head to look at her, his voice challenging as he asked, "Why would I do that?" She looked at him quizzically for a moment, realisation suddenly dawning: he wasn't threatening her; he was letting her in, sharing something personal, trusting her. Oh… "Torchwood has a vacancy. Job going spare. D'you want it?"

Oh, thank God, he's not planning on killing or drugging me. "But… what d'you need me for?"

He gazed out across the city. "Because maybe you were right. We could do more to help." He looked back at her, his smile mischievous, daring, tempting. "What d'you think? D'you want to join up?"

She remembered what Suzie had said to her. He said you were good. And, she realised, he saw qualities in her that she'd only half-suspected she might have, and was willing to give her an opportunity, take a chance on her becoming something more than she was now. "Yeah." She looked out over Cardiff again. I can finally make a difference. This is what I joined the police for, all those years ago, to make a difference. And I can do that here. "I do, yes," she said more firmly.

His smile deepened again, and she could see the delight in it, a desire to share the wonders of the universe, to let her spread her wings, and grow, and fly. "Welcome to the team, then, Gwen Cooper. Good to have you on board."

She smiled, still a little hesitant. "So… what happens now?"

"A load of boring paperwork to get you transferred, to begin with. Ianto will get you up to speed on communications, set you up on the HR system, introduce you to Myfanwy, that kind of thing."

"Myfanwy?"

"The pterodactyl. Her name's Myfanwy. Take some dark chocolate when you meet her, it's her favourite."

"Right," she said, a little startled. "You've named the pterodactyl."

He shrugged. "She lives in the Hub, she's one of the team… of course we named her. She's like our mascot. A Welsh dragon, if you will."

"That's so far beyond crazy, I can't get my head around it," she admitted.

He laughed. "At least she's very much of this world - out of time, yes, but not out of place. Not so with the weevil I showed you, but you still didn't freak out when I sat you in front of it. Most people scream or faint, faced with something like that. You, though… calm as anything, cool as a cucumber, you just… looked. You have real courage. Nerves of steel, given what you've seen and you still haven't completely lost it."

She stood silently for a moment, digesting what he'd said to her. "So… What's a normal day like?" she asked finally.

"Now you ask?" he quipped. "This is Torchwood. There is no normal. We hunt aliens and scavenge alien stuff."

"All day every day?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "Some days we sit around and eat pizza and drink coffee and wind up gullible stalkers who pretend to be pizza delivery girls."

"Get a lot of those, do you?" she asked with gumption.

"Only one this month. So far. Give it time. A while ago it was a stalker needing help catching a pterodactyl, ended up keeping them both on."

"Which one…?"

"Ianto."

She laughed, relaxing as the banter became easy, teasing, friendly. "You know, I really thought you were actually going to kill me."

"Ouch. That's kinda harsh." He laid a reassuring hand gently on her back. "Hurting you in any way was the last thing on my mind."

She looked up at him for a moment, but could see the truth in those blue, blue eyes, and nodded once. "Maybe it was, a bit," she conceded. "Though anything could have happened to me on the way home after you'd drugged me."

He shook his head. "We made sure you got home safely - you were followed all the way home on CCTV. You were never in any danger. Not for a moment."

For some reason, she believed him.

"Will it be dangerous?" she asked.

"Is being in the police dangerous?" he countered. "You, who had to go to hospital to check for concussion after trying to break up a bar fight?"

"You know about that?"

"We know everything." He looked at her intently for a moment. "Yes, it's dangerous. But follow my lead, and I'll try to keep you out of trouble."

She nodded. "And I can't tell anyone, can I?"

"No," he replied. "For their sake as much as ours, this has to be classified."

"No different to police work on that score," she said, squaring her shoulders. "Can't talk about that either."

"Talk to me about anything you want," he said quietly. "I'll always listen."

She smiled up at him, the warmth of a bond of trust and friendship beginning to form between them. "Thanks. And… you know, likewise. I guess… there are things I know that you can't share. But… I'll be here to listen, too."

As his arm went around her shoulders, she found her own arm automatically going around his waist - a brief hug sealing a silent promise, an unspoken commitment:

We're friends, right?

Yeah. Always.