Gwen: June 5th, 2010
Sep. 30th, 2009 12:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ericadawn16Title: But Time Didn’t Stop
Characters: Gwen/Rhys, baby
Rated: G except for being sad. ANGST Character Death
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Gwen muses on Torchwood a year after Day Four of COE.
June 5th, 2010
Gwen buttoned the romper suit and smoothed the wrinkles where the fabric pooled around his arms. It was a hopeless exercise, and one that her son treated as a game, waving his arms to make it worse. She stuck her tongue out in defeat and traced the yellow animal embroidered on the front; a pterodactyl. Her smile faded as she took the four month old in her arms. He was her little souvenir of a terrible year which made her smile inside as the song said and she wanted him to teach her how to live again.
His little bit of dark hair was just like hers and so was his mouth. Rhys had contributed his nose and chin.
“You’ll be quite handsome one day,” she told her son and forced herself to stare into those eyes that were some genetic mockery of biology. The woman kissed his cheek, inhaling the overpowering scent of baby powder as they left the nursery and made their way down the stairs. It was a wonder they found the time and energy to decorate this new place of theirs. Passing the pictures in the hall gave her pause and she stopped, pointing at one.
“Look, there’s mummy and daddy,” she spoke and tried not to add, when we were happy. It wasn’t Rhys’ fault. He tried and she loved him, but…but sometimes he wasn’t as strong as her ghosts. They’d work through it; they always had before…she just needed time. It was almost like looking at strangers in that wedding photo. In that moment, in that event, almost all of them had deceived themselves that they were immune to the curse of Torchwood, that nothing could touch them.
“And Owen and Toshiko, they worked with mummy,” Gwen continued at another photo with the two of them sitting at the table with drinks. Tosh was grinning ear to ear at having finally snagged that dance with Owen. She had never seen her coworker so happy before that and she had never seen her that way again. For a week, the Welshwoman had become almost obsessed with finding footage or a picture of the dance…but it had gone undocumented. Now, only she and Rhys remembered and when they died, it will be like they had never existed at all except for a roster of employees and a couple of birth certificates. She thought of Tosh’ funeral with all her family there, like the true hero she was.
Owen had never been much for ceremony or proprieties. He’d insisted that he wouldn’t come to her wedding if she paid him and had only come in the end because of his Torchwood obligations. Even if they had found a body to bury, she wondered if Jack would have done a funeral since Owen would have never approved of it. They’d bought him a tombstone anyway beside the woman that almost became his wife. When the stone went up, it was the first Gwen had ever heard of Katie although she suspected Ianto knew something. Ianto knew everything and they knew nothing.
Her brown eyes began to water and she took a deep breath; turning her attention to another framed memento of her wedding.
“That’s Uncle Jack and Uncle Ianto, you…you wouldn’t be here if not for them,” she croaked because the words didn’t want to come. She called him “Uncle” because that felt like he wasn’t truly gone. If she called him “Uncle”, he could just be coming back. If she called him “Uncle”, then for a moment, she could forget and she called Ianto the same because it’s what would have happened, what should have happened after her son was born. Ianto was why Jack wasn’t here, why Jack was traveling, why he didn’t seem able to live with himself.
Oh sure, it was Steven that pushed him over the edge, but Jack never would have done it if Ianto hadn’t been ripped from him. She doesn’t think he could have done it otherwise. No, no, he wouldn’t have. She could have never done it herself. She’s certain of it as she looks in her son’s eyes, but then she thinks of Rhys and if he died…and how Owen shot Jack so they could open the Rift and they let him. She’d known what Jack was, but did that make the murder any more right?
At those times, she can understand why he did it. Another memory came to mind.
“Ianto, we’re having a baby,” he had pronounced loud and clear, so happy. She thinks Ianto must have been happy, too, but it’s such a blur. It was because of the boy in her arms that they found out what Jack was carrying and their lives had been saved, but it was only momentarily. What if they had all died in that explosion? It wasn’t right to think that way. It wasn’t fair to them, but what if? What if? What if?
She played that game so often that she wanted to stop, but she couldn’t. What if Ianto hadn’t gone with Jack to London? What if Ianto had lived?
He had always been so full of surprises that she had always expected one more. As they sifted through the rubble, finding the wrist strap and lower levels intact, she kept hoping there would be something yet it yielded nothing, just like his house. The only new information came from Rhi and she was sad for the hearing. Their father had never been a master tailor and had never taken them to the Electro. He had been too busy and when he did find time for his children, it usually involved his hand or a belt. Gwen was left with the feeling that maybe she had never known Ianto at all and now the chance was gone forever. Even though, Rhi had also said that her brother had never felt like he had belonged or been happier than when he joined Torchwood.
Ianto was always the loudest of her ghosts and she supposed it had a lot to do with his being the youngest. She could still remember when she was twenty-five and she felt as though her whole life was ahead of her. She could do anything she wished. He’d been hardly more than a kid.
“Do you think Jack will come?” asked Rhys, appearing in the doorway as he buttoned his suit coat. The last time she’d seen Jack, his coat was buttoned along its entire length as though it was the only thing keeping him intact. She shook her head.
Later that day, they sat in chairs as the names were read. When the speaker announced, “Ianto Jones, age 25,” she couldn’t help blubbering and her husband’s arms encircled her. Her son was silent; stronger than she was in some respects. Sometimes, she’d see something when she was out with the boy, like passing where St Teilo’s used to be, button pins or a TinTin book and she’d start crying. It was embarrassing and awful, but what made it worse was when people came up to her. They’d say something like, “It’ll get better as the baby gets older.” Gwen was not simply suffering from some sort of after birth depression that would go away. Not only were they all dead, but she had to sort out being with the baby and Rhys and aliens and rebuilding the Hub and hiring new employees and meetings with the new Prime Minister. Sometimes, she fantasized about turning it all over to Archie or Johnson, but that would mean that she let them all down.
Gwen was glad that three were attending the ceremony on Torchwood’s behalf, just as there had been three of them that day. Rhi had stayed home; claiming she had neighbor children to watch.
Earlier in this year that should never have happened, Gwen attended the memorial for the battle of Canary Wharf. She knew when it had first happened that there had been twenty-seven survivors. Now, three years later, there were only twenty. Five had eased their guilt of remaining behind the easy way: with a gun or a rope. The Welshwoman was ashamed to admit such thoughts herself, but she wouldn’t do it. She would live for Rhys and her little boy. Gwen squeezed Rhys’ arm and kissed her baby’s cheek. He must have known what he would be called before they did because his eyes were the same blue as they were the day he was born and they’d named him Ianto.
Jack never came.
Next section: September 14th, 2009
edf
Characters: Gwen/Rhys, baby
Rated: G except for being sad. ANGST Character Death
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Gwen muses on Torchwood a year after Day Four of COE.
June 5th, 2010
Gwen buttoned the romper suit and smoothed the wrinkles where the fabric pooled around his arms. It was a hopeless exercise, and one that her son treated as a game, waving his arms to make it worse. She stuck her tongue out in defeat and traced the yellow animal embroidered on the front; a pterodactyl. Her smile faded as she took the four month old in her arms. He was her little souvenir of a terrible year which made her smile inside as the song said and she wanted him to teach her how to live again.
His little bit of dark hair was just like hers and so was his mouth. Rhys had contributed his nose and chin.
“You’ll be quite handsome one day,” she told her son and forced herself to stare into those eyes that were some genetic mockery of biology. The woman kissed his cheek, inhaling the overpowering scent of baby powder as they left the nursery and made their way down the stairs. It was a wonder they found the time and energy to decorate this new place of theirs. Passing the pictures in the hall gave her pause and she stopped, pointing at one.
“Look, there’s mummy and daddy,” she spoke and tried not to add, when we were happy. It wasn’t Rhys’ fault. He tried and she loved him, but…but sometimes he wasn’t as strong as her ghosts. They’d work through it; they always had before…she just needed time. It was almost like looking at strangers in that wedding photo. In that moment, in that event, almost all of them had deceived themselves that they were immune to the curse of Torchwood, that nothing could touch them.
“And Owen and Toshiko, they worked with mummy,” Gwen continued at another photo with the two of them sitting at the table with drinks. Tosh was grinning ear to ear at having finally snagged that dance with Owen. She had never seen her coworker so happy before that and she had never seen her that way again. For a week, the Welshwoman had become almost obsessed with finding footage or a picture of the dance…but it had gone undocumented. Now, only she and Rhys remembered and when they died, it will be like they had never existed at all except for a roster of employees and a couple of birth certificates. She thought of Tosh’ funeral with all her family there, like the true hero she was.
Owen had never been much for ceremony or proprieties. He’d insisted that he wouldn’t come to her wedding if she paid him and had only come in the end because of his Torchwood obligations. Even if they had found a body to bury, she wondered if Jack would have done a funeral since Owen would have never approved of it. They’d bought him a tombstone anyway beside the woman that almost became his wife. When the stone went up, it was the first Gwen had ever heard of Katie although she suspected Ianto knew something. Ianto knew everything and they knew nothing.
Her brown eyes began to water and she took a deep breath; turning her attention to another framed memento of her wedding.
“That’s Uncle Jack and Uncle Ianto, you…you wouldn’t be here if not for them,” she croaked because the words didn’t want to come. She called him “Uncle” because that felt like he wasn’t truly gone. If she called him “Uncle”, he could just be coming back. If she called him “Uncle”, then for a moment, she could forget and she called Ianto the same because it’s what would have happened, what should have happened after her son was born. Ianto was why Jack wasn’t here, why Jack was traveling, why he didn’t seem able to live with himself.
Oh sure, it was Steven that pushed him over the edge, but Jack never would have done it if Ianto hadn’t been ripped from him. She doesn’t think he could have done it otherwise. No, no, he wouldn’t have. She could have never done it herself. She’s certain of it as she looks in her son’s eyes, but then she thinks of Rhys and if he died…and how Owen shot Jack so they could open the Rift and they let him. She’d known what Jack was, but did that make the murder any more right?
At those times, she can understand why he did it. Another memory came to mind.
“Ianto, we’re having a baby,” he had pronounced loud and clear, so happy. She thinks Ianto must have been happy, too, but it’s such a blur. It was because of the boy in her arms that they found out what Jack was carrying and their lives had been saved, but it was only momentarily. What if they had all died in that explosion? It wasn’t right to think that way. It wasn’t fair to them, but what if? What if? What if?
She played that game so often that she wanted to stop, but she couldn’t. What if Ianto hadn’t gone with Jack to London? What if Ianto had lived?
He had always been so full of surprises that she had always expected one more. As they sifted through the rubble, finding the wrist strap and lower levels intact, she kept hoping there would be something yet it yielded nothing, just like his house. The only new information came from Rhi and she was sad for the hearing. Their father had never been a master tailor and had never taken them to the Electro. He had been too busy and when he did find time for his children, it usually involved his hand or a belt. Gwen was left with the feeling that maybe she had never known Ianto at all and now the chance was gone forever. Even though, Rhi had also said that her brother had never felt like he had belonged or been happier than when he joined Torchwood.
Ianto was always the loudest of her ghosts and she supposed it had a lot to do with his being the youngest. She could still remember when she was twenty-five and she felt as though her whole life was ahead of her. She could do anything she wished. He’d been hardly more than a kid.
“Do you think Jack will come?” asked Rhys, appearing in the doorway as he buttoned his suit coat. The last time she’d seen Jack, his coat was buttoned along its entire length as though it was the only thing keeping him intact. She shook her head.
Later that day, they sat in chairs as the names were read. When the speaker announced, “Ianto Jones, age 25,” she couldn’t help blubbering and her husband’s arms encircled her. Her son was silent; stronger than she was in some respects. Sometimes, she’d see something when she was out with the boy, like passing where St Teilo’s used to be, button pins or a TinTin book and she’d start crying. It was embarrassing and awful, but what made it worse was when people came up to her. They’d say something like, “It’ll get better as the baby gets older.” Gwen was not simply suffering from some sort of after birth depression that would go away. Not only were they all dead, but she had to sort out being with the baby and Rhys and aliens and rebuilding the Hub and hiring new employees and meetings with the new Prime Minister. Sometimes, she fantasized about turning it all over to Archie or Johnson, but that would mean that she let them all down.
Gwen was glad that three were attending the ceremony on Torchwood’s behalf, just as there had been three of them that day. Rhi had stayed home; claiming she had neighbor children to watch.
Earlier in this year that should never have happened, Gwen attended the memorial for the battle of Canary Wharf. She knew when it had first happened that there had been twenty-seven survivors. Now, three years later, there were only twenty. Five had eased their guilt of remaining behind the easy way: with a gun or a rope. The Welshwoman was ashamed to admit such thoughts herself, but she wouldn’t do it. She would live for Rhys and her little boy. Gwen squeezed Rhys’ arm and kissed her baby’s cheek. He must have known what he would be called before they did because his eyes were the same blue as they were the day he was born and they’d named him Ianto.
Jack never came.
Next section: September 14th, 2009
edf
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-09-30 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-30 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-30 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-30 07:39 pm (UTC)Err, I can't tell you the number of times you've done that to me...
hehe
But that means a lot coming from you, thank you. This is the post-COE story series I've mentioned a time or two before. I hope you enjoy it.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-30 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-01 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-03 03:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-01 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-03 03:03 pm (UTC)(Hands tissue)
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Date: 2009-10-01 04:16 pm (UTC)Well done!
no subject
Date: 2009-10-03 03:04 pm (UTC)(Curtsies)
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Date: 2009-10-01 05:33 pm (UTC)I really like the photos and the way Gwen talks to her baby about everyone she cared about.
Really good. And great ending line.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-03 03:06 pm (UTC)It wasn't addressed in COE, but I'm assuming she would have photos from the wedding. I really liked writing it so I'm glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-03 05:32 pm (UTC)Michelle
no subject
Date: 2009-10-06 04:35 am (UTC)(Hugs)
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Date: 2009-10-04 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-09 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-01 05:33 am (UTC)Very Heart Breaking and Soul Grabbing! Gwen named her baby Ianto, that broke me!
Thanks for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-06 02:32 am (UTC)Thank you for going back and commenting!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-27 10:45 am (UTC)These two bits were the ones I liked the most...well as much as you can like bittersweet.
“Look, there’s mummy and daddy,” she spoke and tried not to add, when we were happy.
Ohhhh...
The last time she’d seen Jack, his coat was buttoned along its entire length as though it was the only thing keeping him intact.
I wanted to hug her and Jack right there.
I apologize for not keeping up with this and your other fic. Real life has a way of minimizing fic writing/reading time. :( I should be posting silly Torchwood/Doctor Who fic soon. :D
no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:09 am (UTC)Thank you for reading my fic. I don't care about how long it takes as long as you did actually take the time to read it.