"All the way to the United States of Mexico? Really? Can't the Mexican or the American Torchwoods handle their own problems?"

"I know, Rose," Pete responded from his side of the desk, shifting papers around uncomfortably. "You do realize that I'll be the one taking the tongue lashing from Jackie for sending her daughter across the pond? But the Mexican Torchwood hasn't reopened since their corruption was unearthed, and the Americans have their hands a bit full with the overflow. They said this problem was big, that they needed the best agent we had. Believe me, if I thought this was something Jake or Mickey or even Stewart could handle I'd send one of them. But your… past experiences make you more equipped to handle this alien than anyone else in the field."

She sighed at the barely-skirted mention of her time with the Doctor. Pete and her mum had been doing that since she came here, sure that if they even mentioned the Doctor's name it would send her into a catatonic panic like the one right after the Battle of Canary Wharf. It had been half a year and she was holding together just fine—mostly.

"Any idea what it is?"

"Not clear enough that they wanted to transmit it to me. They have an agent out in the field now. You're to meet him as soon as possible. He transmits his location daily. A zeppelin will take you there. It leaves in an hour, so get your supplies as quickly as you can."

Rose stood up from the chair, an unhappy scowl on her face even as she saluted him and left the comfort of his office.

In three quarters of that departing hour, she was already seated on the practically empty airship, one pack stuffed with everything she needed, the crew steering far around her by staying out of the passenger bay. Which was nice, except it meant three days of no other distractions than her thoughts.

~/~/~

"Yeah, mum, sure, I'll go on the date, alright?" Anything to keep Jackie from pressing on her about still being "hung up" on the Doctor. She understood her mum was just trying to help, but it still didn't make matters easier. "I don't know when I'll be back. It depends on a lot of different things," not the least of which was how competent her American partner would be, she silently added to herself. "Yeah, mum, I'll call you when I get back in town, alright? Look, I gotta go. We're nearly there."

She clicked off her phone, locking it into one of the zipper pockets on her trousers. She'd heard the upper states of Mexico had terrible signal, so if she was lucky she'd avoid another talk like that with her mum until she was back in the UK.

She slung the pack over her shoulder, clipping it on and tightening the straps. She looked over her own outfit—blue leather jacket, black cargo pants, combat boots, and military pack—flipped her hair over her shoulder, and strode towards the waiting captain at the far end. "Agent Tyler," he nodded to her.

"Captain," she nodded back. "What's the dismount protocols?"

The man scratched behind his ear. "Well, I must say this is one of the more unusual flights I've ever led. There are no docking stations in the area. Are you sure these coordinates are correct?"

She pulled out the GPS device from one of her pockets, glancing down at it. "Yes, we should be right on top of it in ten minutes."

"As you say, ma'am." He turned on his heel, leading her up a winding staircase and out the catwalk towards the bow. They stepped out onto the mooring shelf, the wind whipping around them. "With no docking station," he had to yell to be heard over the wind and the engines, "you'll have to be lowered to the ground from here. Are you sure you're trained for that, ma'am?"

Her irritation was growing. She understood why they constantly switched pilots, to keep the activities of Torchwood out of the public eye, but having to reassure every pilot she'd ever flown with was growing old quickly. "Do not worry about me, Captain. Your safety record will be in tact. Just slow the craft as much as you can, get me close to the ground, and then you'll be on your way."

He shrugged and turned back to shout orders to his crew. She busied herself with fastening the straps of the harness around her, making sure they were secure before the threaded the lead line through. She tugged on it once, making sure the clip would hold, before taking the binoculars from the captain and peering ahead to an outcropping they were fast approaching.

A man stood atop the rock, waving at her ship with both hands over his head. "There's my contact!" she shouted, handing the tools back over to the captain. "Have you got it slowed?"

"Yes. Best of luck to you, ma'am."

"Captain." She nodded to him again before kicking the rest of the lead line off the mooring shelf. She watched it stretch towards the ground before tugging the rope tighter in her hands and sliding off the edge of the shelf.

Her heart thudded in her throat as the wind tossed her around, her hands tightening on the rope. She couldn't stop the small smile that spread across her face. These moments, when the adrenaline kicked in, this was why she was a field agent. This was the only thing she could replicate from her time with the Doctor.

"Hello!" she heard the American call out, and she looked down to see that she was close enough to drop to the ground. She started struggling against the clip on the rope. Of course it wouldn't release now, right as she slid past the man and continued trailing the zeppelin. He ran after her, eyes fixed on her even as she jerked harder at the clip.

It separated in one move, and she lost her hold on the rope. She dropped away from the pressure of the zeppelin with a gasp. Arms flailing, she sought for anything to stop her from crashing back-flat into the ground twelve feet below her.

She landed into a warm pair of arms, hearing an "oomph!" in her ear even as her hands scrabbled for purchase on his shoulders.

His laugh rang around them as his arms tightened on her for a moment. "Agent Tyler, I presume?"

Wait a minute, she knew that voice. More than knew that voice, she'd brought memories of that voice and its owner back to the forefront of her mind on days she felt particularly alone and weighed down by all that had happened to her.

He set her down on her feet and whipped her hair out of her face, gaping up at him in shock. "Jack?"

He grinned at her, still holding onto her arm, though to keep her steady or to keep her close to him she would never be able to tell. "I'm afraid they didn't give me as much information on you as they seemed to give you about me. But rest assured, I'd like to learn more."