Gwen wandered into Jack's office with two steaming cups of coffee. She set one down on his desk, then bent to kiss his cheek.

"What's that for?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

"It's so good to have you back."

"It's good to be back."

"What's that?" Gwen asked curiously, gesturing to the files scattered across his desktop.

"Funny you should ask. I was wondering why the Doctor and Rose were so interested in you."

"So was I. I never did get a chance to meet them."

"How far back can you trace your family history?" Jack asked, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers together.

"Oh, I dunno…about 1850. There was a terrible fire…wiped out whole city blocks. My great, great, grandmum lost everyone - parents, baby sister - she was raised in an orphan asylum. Why?"

"You never met Rose and the Doctor, but she did," Jack explained, pulling out a faded old photograph.

"Who might that be? I've seen a picture of my great-grand, and that's not her."

"No, it's not. It's her sister, Gwyneth, the one she thought was lost in the fire."

"She looks like me."

"She does, indeed."

Gwen perched on the edge of Jack's desk, perusing the files. "It says here she died in 1869. That's a decade before Queen Victoria ever gave the order to found Torchwood."

"True, but even back then, the rift was active, and even if they didn't know what it did, or what to call it, the first agents of Torchwood recognized that something was going on here, and they began researching it."

"How d'you figure the Doctor was involved in this?"

"It's pretty obscure, unless you know what you're looking for, but there was an entry in one of Charles Dickens's journals, describing an encounter with 'blue spirits' here in Cardiff. The spirits were laid to rest by a mysterious doctor, who traveled with his ward, a lovely young blonde haired girl named Rose."

"And how did Gwyneth figure into all of this?"

"I think Gwyneth is a big part of how you ended up working here," Jack replied enigmatically.

"Jack, you're not making any sense at all."

"Neighbors who were interviewed believed that she had the second sight."

"No, Jack," Gwen protested. "No. I am not psychic."

"No, you're not. But you are an empath. Think about it. Of all of us, who's the one who always, always thinks of the victim first? Hmm? Even the damn blowfish could see it."

"I…"

"Yeah. You." He grinned. "You are the one who keeps us - keeps me -human."