Title: Everything Changes, Part Two of Four

Author: Emma

Characters: Canonical Torchwood Three members… sort of.

Rating: Some chapters definitely not safe for work.

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Summary: Constable Gwen Cooper is drawn into the dark world of the Queen’s Magicians.

Author’s Note: I have been bitten by a radioactive plot bunny that threatened to disintegrate my cells if I didn’t do this. No. I don’t know if I will do all the episodes, though it would be fun. We’ll see.

Author's Note: This is a retelling of the Torchwood episodes in a world in which there are no aliens and magic and the supernatural are very real. For all of you history nerds, the Synod of Whitby went the other way and the majority of the northern English, Scots, Welsh, and Irish are Celtic Christians.

Author’s Note: I like to thank RTD for the inspiration (/snark)

            “Cooper!”

            Gwen set down the tray of empty tea mugs she was carrying. “Yes, sir!”

            “Some old… lady got her purse grabbed outside her local Tesco. Got roughed up a bit and she’s kicking up a fuss. Insists on filing a report.” The Sergeant’s eyes glittered with malice. “She’s at Cardiff Royal. Go over and take it down, there’s a good girl.”

            She was damned if she gave him the pleasure of seeing her upset. Smiling her highest-wattage smile, she saluted him. “Yes, sir!”

            As she passed Andy’s desk she caught his eye. His approving nod made her smile. Suddenly she remembered something Andy had told her a few months before: Eric Kenyon’s gone as high as he ever will and all the boot licking in the world won’t change that, and what’s worse, he knows it.  Andy had a gift for putting things, and people, in perspective.

            The drive to the Cardiff Royal Infirmary was an easy one in the light mid-morning traffic. She used the time to prepare herself. Kenyon knew she was a medium; sending her to a place full of the dead and dying was an act of petty cruelty, but at the same time it revealed his appalling ignorance of basic psychical science. The first and most important test of the Spiritual Certification Court was to measure the ability of a Sensitive’s mind to withstand a supernatural assault. For a medium to receive her Bishop’s Certificate she had to be able to filter out the voices of the dead in a graveyard or a battlefield at full moon. A modern hospital was a piece of cake in comparison.

            Taking the statement was a bit time consuming. Mrs. Alder was a garrulous soul. On the other hand she was sharp as a new pin and gave an excellent description of her attackers. Gwen didn’t have the heart to tell her nobody was going to go out of their way to find them.

            As she left the A&E  she caught sight of a familiar coat. Captain Harkness was standing half-way up the stairs leading to the first floor, talking to a doctor that seemed just about ready to burst into tears. She couldn’t hear what they were saying but it was obvious from the fast, high-pitched whine of what would naturally have been a gravelly baritone that the doctor had had a bad shock.  He gesticulated wildly upwards as he spoke. Captain Harkness finally resorted to grabbing his hands and holding them still. The action seemed to calm the man a little. The Captain waited for a few seconds more then started to speak, slowly and evenly. The doctor hiccupped to a standstill then nodded once or twice as Captain Harkness spoke.

            At some moment Gwen realized that she was aware of another presence. A man stood behind and slightly to one side of the Captain. She couldn’t understand how she had missed him, because he had the kind of looks that would attract the eye of any woman, nine to ninety. He was very young, and had the elegant, fey looks of one of the Fair Folk; standing next to Captain Harkness he played a counterpoint of light to dark. He was a human as she was, and living, not dead, yet it seemed to her that he had appeared out of nowhere.  He whispered something and the Captain nodded. Tapping his earpiece, the man spoke briefly to someone, then whispered again to the Captain.

            Captain Harkness released the doctor’s hands and he and the young man continued up the stairs. The doctor called out to them, and the Captain turned to answer. Gwen knew the moment he picked her out from the crowd in the lobby. His eyes lit up, and he gave her a slow, sensual smile. Then he spun around and continued up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

            Impulsively, Gwen started up after him. The Infirmary was designed as a hollow square, with each floor looking down on the central courtyard and its Roman-style pluvium filled with blooming water lilies. Captain Harkness and the young man ran to the third floor and disappeared behind a door with an airlock seal on it.

            She waited a few minutes and then followed them. The corridor beyond the door smelt of fresh paint. She wondered what the two men were looking for in an empty area obviously undergoing renovation. Walking down the corridor she peered into a few rooms but they were empty except for equipment and boxes piled up haphazardly in the middle of the floor. They had disappeared on her. She was about to give up when she noticed a man in a boiler suit, likely a worker, standing at the far end.

            “Excuse me, sir?”

            He turned  to her and Gwen flinched and bit back a scream. The man was wearing a fright mask like those Christian children wore on their Halloween festival. He seemed as scared by her as she was by him. He ran down a narrow corridor that branched to the right of the main one, moving in a half-crouch like an ape. Gwen ran after him, trying to remember if the Infirmary had a Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit.

           As they reached a turn in the corridor, a security guard stepped out from one of the rooms right in front of the fleeing man. "Whoa, mate. What’s the hurry? Are you…”

            Gwen watched in horror as the masked man struck the guard across the throat. Blood gushed out. The guard dropped the keys he was carrying and grabbed at the wound as it to stop the blood, then toppled backwards. His killer then turned back to Gwen, snarling, his whole front spattered red.

            “Look,” she started to speak, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking, as she backed away slowly. “You need help. He needs help. Let me call someone, all right?”

            Suddenly the young man was there, standing directly behind the masked man. He was carrying an active stunner in his hand. At the same time, Gwen was yanked out of the way and found herself tumbling into the folds of a World War Two military coat.

            “Hello, Gwen Cooper.” The satisfied purr in his voice made every nerve in her body strum. “What are you doing here?”

            She tried to answer but found his finger across her lips.

            “Don’t say anything. This is the second time you’ve spied on me, Gwen Cooper. Now let’s see if your detective skills are as good as your stalking ones. Find me, Gwen. Find Torchwood.”

            She heard an amused snort behind her, and turned to see the young man smiling wryly. The man in the mask lay on the ground, breathing heavily, hands cuffed behind his back.

            “But remember one thing, Gwen Cooper. If you find us, you’re ours.”