Gwen asked me to go with her when we took Carys home. I didn't want to at first. Seven deaths take a lot of work to clean up, a lot of paper trails, a lot of corpses. But Gwen had insisted she needed me to give the cover story more credibility. We had told Carys she'd been taken hostage by men involved with international terrorism, and keep in a drugged sleep for two days. We told her we'd raided the cell, found her held captive and saved her. It was partly true and at any rate it was a story that worked well for everybody. Carys forgot the guilt and horror of her last forty-eight hours, and Torchwood kept its secrets safe.
I had gone in first to talk to the father while Gwen had waited with Carys in the car. I'd given him the cover story, told him the men responsible were being punished, but I wasn't at liberty to discuss it further. I'd advised him not to speak of what had happened to anyone, and he'd agreed without really hearing me. He had told me he just wanted to see his daughter.
When Gwen brought in Carys I realized this was the real reason she'd wanted me here. So I could see this man embrace his only child. So I could see the family that I'd saved. She was doing what I'd asked, showing me what it meant to be human in the twenty-first century.
A few hours later I still felt the residual effects of that moment. My pride, not only in myself for saving the family, but also in Gwen and everything she stood for. Even doing so commonplace a thing as removing papers from the board she was mesmerizing. I couldn't help but stare. Eventually I'd had reminded myself it wasn't my place to.
"Still here? Everybody else is off doing ... whatever it is they do when they're not here." In Owen's case I'm not even sure I wanted to know.
"How long have you been there?" Too long for a man whose just your boss. Not nearly long enough for me. "I wanted to finish off."
Here we were, in Torchwood completely alone. Now the question was which Jack would take control. Having met the Freud and known him for the lunatic that he was, I've never put much stock in his theories. Not to brag, but the man's whole phallic symbol obsession started after the good doctor and I had a few "sessions" together. I had to admit however, that the war I felt within myself seemed a lot like a battle of the superego and the id. Superego Jack said retcon Gwen for a second time and send her away before Torchwood destroyed the miracle that she was. Id Jack said pummel Rhys into a spineless lump and screw Gwen until she couldn't even remember the meaning of the word "lasagna". Jack forced himself to mediate a compromise between the two, although Id Jack complained he was getting the short end of the stick.
"Do one thing for me. Don't let the job consume you. You have a life. Perspective. We need that." Yeah sure this wasn't about me. It was about Torchwood. It's always about Torchwood.
"Who are you, Jack?" Uh oh. How obvious I had been with the whole id, superego thing?
"I'm sorry?" I'd always prided myself on my facial control. The smallest twitch could have proved deadly in my old line of work. If I'd lost it now, I needed to know.
"You can't die. You tell me the 21st century is when it all changes, that we have to be prepared." Gwen was just asking about my generally mysterious nature, not anything specific I'd done to tip her off. Good, I was afraid I'd gotten rusty.
"So you do." At least that's what the man with the watch had said. Given the circumstances under which he'd told me maybe I shouldn't be trusting his judgment so completely. But he'd been my friend. I had to believe what he'd seen was beyond imagination to have made him do what he'd done.
"But how can you know?" What could I say? That a man who had murdered his friends and coworkers told me so?
"You think knowing the answers would make you feel better?" Trust me, they wouldn't.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" I wanted to tell her. I wanted to confess everything, the whole sordid history of who I was, what I was. I wanted be really seen by this extraordinary woman. But how could I tell her when I knew doing so would make her despise me? I needed my shadows to hide what I am. Better that I stay down here and leave her to a man who could walk in the light.
"Go home, Gwen Cooper. Eat lasagna. Kiss your boyfriend. Be normal. For me."