Author Notes: Okay, this is what came into being by me refusing to accept the outcome of Exit Wounds, and so will contain spoilers for all of Torchwood, and up through past the end of season 4 of Doctor Who. I couldn't bare the idea of losing two of that team, so this story sort of mutated out of that, and a concept my beta ChemicalNova put me on to concerning Suzie.

WARNING: This is the darkest fic I have ever written. It most definitely deserves its T rating. There will be themes of death, torture, emotional trauma and rape. This is not written with the edited version of Torchwood and its audience in mind, so please be aware of this before you read. There is nothing graphic, but it is definitely pretty creepifying, or at least, as much as I could make it!

That said, I own nothing, and I hope you all enjoy!

Charon

Chapter 1

If Owen could appreciate irony anymore, perhaps this situation would have taken first prize. But he couldn't. How could he? This wasn't like Jack, but it was not like him either.

Jack lived forever.

Owen was going to die forever.

But this? This was so, so much more.

Beyond the black, beyond the darkness.

Suzie had lied. His senses had lied. But, hell, how he wished he could remain in the blissful knowledge of nothingness after death.

But he was Torchwood.

Toshiko was Torchwood.

And Suzie...She was Torchwood too.

Along with all the others. All those so many brave souls who had to pay the price. Those who all had two things in common.

Torchwood.

Jack.

Because Death does not like the outcome of Life.

It holds no affection for the soul that came within its grasp, that keeps falling towards it, only to be continuously dragged back by one glimmer of light that holds no place in its domain.

So it cheated.

Instead of brooding in the pitch, it created its own light. Its own, twisted, screaming light, borne of the Rift that permeates its being.

So Owen did not die forever. Because when that radiation had melted the shell of his consciousness, Death finally got his soul, and he joined the mangled pile.

His death had not been painful. But his new life had been excruciating.

As he had watched his body dissolve, boil and break apart, his last thoughts had been of the unfairness of it all, and of Tosh, and those others he would leave behind. But as the last glimmer of words had formed in his mind, a sudden pain had electrified his whole being, and he was gasping, for the first time in months, desperately, pathetically trying to draw breath into newly formed lungs, crying unconsciously in pain and confusion as the unfamiliar oxygen scorched the brand new lung tissue and sent fire into nerves he had forgotten he had.

He had lain, shaking, crying and naked, clawing at the grated metal floor, his eyes blurry and confused as colours assaulted his senses and his brain refused to accept reality.

And then all had snapped into focus, but this had only made him plead for the promised oblivion, as he had done ever since.

The film of white, taunt over dead irises, unblinking as it had examined him with unseeing eyes. That hand, skin of paper, translucent and stretched, burning the mark into his neck, ignoring him as his crying mutated into echoing screams. A number. 565.

They never spoke. Never said a word.

They had left her to deal with him. The bitch who had gambled against them, and was paying the price with what remained of her humanity. Suzie.

It was she who had told him where they were. It was more than Hell, because they were not truly dead. They belonged to these beings with no name, the creatures of Death who took the price of the bounty, who took that price in pain, blood and screams. The price they all paid for Jack's life.

Suzie had tried to run away. She had planted a way for her to return to life, before she had even known of the 'death' that awaited her when she had placed that gun to her throat. But Jack had stopped her, they had got Gwen back, and Suzie had been sent back to this.

The Shadow waiting in the Darkness.

And so now she would pay for eternity. Their servant. Her mangled body and soul would do their bidding against those she would once have called friends, colleagues, lovers; all those Jack had unwittingly abandoned to this fate.

But Owen had accepted he was going to die forever, and so when he had awoken in his cell filled next to wretched living skeletons, huddled in the rags Suzie had thrown at him to cover his new living body, he had accepted this new fate. This new place, a blending of earth and metal, of blood and screams and the forsaken.

Until he found out one of the few people he trusted had lied to him. That she had been pretending, just for him.

Barely sure of his movements, he had reached forwards, fingers curling around dripping strands of obsidian hair, brushing it out of her eyes and away from her neck as another angry red and black number burnt brightly against her skin. And she had stared back at him, communicating the same shock and confusion, fear and pain. And remorse. Remorse for the lie she had told him.

And now he cared. Now he refused to accept his fate, because to accept what was in store for him would be to accept what was in store for her.

Owen Harper and Toshiko Sato; the dead who were now alive. Kept alive. Kept alive to pay the price.

They had joined their predecessors. Those who had found Torchwood too much, and had taken their own lives. Those who had been killed by their job, or worse, killed by those who they shared a job with.

And so it had begun. Every burnt sunrise. Every night of suffocated stars. On and on, time with no meaning on an alien planet. Owen now understood how those people taken by the Rift had steadily lost their minds in the black.

Two coins to pay the boatman.

Two more souls to pay in the stead of another.

To Be Continued...

Author Notes: First chapter is a bit short, I know, but I just wanted to throw it out there. What do you think? I'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as possible, but until then, I'd love to here any thoughts!