Time for a Story (complete)

Time for a Story (complete)

Since starting work for Torchwood, Gwen Cooper had nearly died seven times. Nearly died and not just put in a position that could have meant her death. They were all in that position all day, every day. Partly because they worked for Torchwood. Partly because that was just the depressing way the world worked.

Jack kept a list of the times she nearly died written on a piece of paper, folded and tucked inside his desk drawer. The paper was thin and stood up against the side so that it caught in the joint gap between there and the bottom. It made his heart ache to take that paper out of the drawer and add another line, but he wanted a record. He wanted to know how many close calls there had been.

The night the eighth time happened, Jack sat holding a glass of whiskey, and staring at the list folded open on his desk. The eighth one was almost too close to call a "close call" and it was only because of some fast thinking and fast moving Gwen was alive at all. She was bruised, bloodied, sore, and Owen was certain her ribs were broken, but she was alive.

Jack lost himself in thought, replaying each time they nearly lost Gwen. Then he thought of the first night she saw them. He had known she'd be there. Known her curiosity would drive her to find out what they were doing. Known it wouldn't end there and she would find them. Him. She would find him.

"Life is a game of lost and found, Ianto."

Ianto started, then quickly composed himself. He didn't think Jack was even aware he was in the office. "Especially for us, Captain," he said as he gathered two plates and a cup from Jack's desk. Ianto checked for anything else that needed to be collected, and then his focus settled on the list. His eyes flicked to Jack and caught his eyes. "It's none of my business, sir," he said professionally as he straightened and turned to leave the room.

"Sit down." It was a command, but there was a touch of resign in Jack's voice.

Ianto placed the dishes on the desk and took the chair across from Jack. He folded his hands in his lap and looked for all the world like a schoolboy expecting to be scolded. Jack smiled, but it didn't quite erase the sadness in his eyes. Ianto looked at his shoes instead. He didn't want to see the sorrow or think about what it might mean.

"Do you keep a list for all of us?"

"Not like this, no." Jack picked up the list, rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. Held up to the light, Ianto could see that this was an oft-repeated action; there was a spot where the paper had been worn soft.

"You love her." He tried to make it a question but the lump in his throat made it difficult.

Jack folded the paper and put it back in the drawer. "I do."

"I understand, sir," Ianto said. He started to rise from his seat, but Jack reached across the desk, motioning him down.

"This is difficult to explain," Jack said. "Have you got time for a story?"

"Of course." Ianto felt a small swell of pride; Jack didn't take many people into his confidence.

"Do you know how old I am, Ianto?"

"No, sir. It's not noted in your records. Not that I went looking. It's just that in the process of updating personnel files I did happen to...." Ianto stopped talking when Jack waved his words away and poured a second glass of whiskey. He set it in front of Ianto.

"You're going to need this," he said. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," Jack said, then trailed off, looking at a spot somewhere between the top of his office door and a distant point in time. He laughed quietly and traced his finger around the rim of his glass. "Except it's not. It's a long time ago in this galaxy. This planet. Cardiff, as a matter of fact, and it was 1943. I was Frank Todd of New York City."

Jack grinned at the startled look on Ianto's face and silently praised Ianto for accepting this information without question."I was seeing this sweet girl. Her husband was fighting in the war and she was scared. Lonely. I was a Merchant Marine, in town just for a few days."

"One thing led to another, I assume?"

Jack nodded. "I left. Went back to America for a little while. I never thought anything of it until I came back over here. I used Torchwood's access to find out what happened to her. Her husband had come home about two weeks after I left. Their daughter - my daughter - was born eight months later. Premature, but only just barely since she was conceived earlier than they suspected."

"Their daughter is Gwen's mother."

"Yep."

"And you're certain that Gwen's mother is your daughter? No, of course you are. That's why...that's why you asked her to join us, isn't it."

"Pretty much, yep. I wanted to know what kind of person she was. What her mother was like. What happened to her grandmother." He swirled the whiskey in his glass, then took a sip. "I wanted to know if any of my... traits were passed down."

"The fact that you don't age, you mean."