Title: Day One, 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: Gwen’s first day at work is… not the usual thing
Author's Note: AU like nobody's business!

Author’s Note: The cockatrice, or basilisk, is a common “monster” and heraldic symbol; the revenant part of the legend is all mine.
Author's Note: Ianto's dessert is made with Sabra Liqueur, made in Israel. For those of you unlucky enough to never have tried it... think of the richest, more exquisite Jaffa cakes you have ever eaten. Bitersweet chocolatey-and-orange taste... yum.

            Gwen bit into the forkful of cake and made ooohing noises as the chocolate-and-kirsch-flavored cream melted on her tongue. “And the bishop’s cook makes these for us?”

            Ianto distributed the coffee and sat down. “I don’t know that this should be considered a healthy breakfast.”

            “Oh, hush, you,” Tosh said. “Studies have shown that a daily dose of chocolate will have positive effects on your heart, skin, and brain.” She turned to Gwen. “Each one of us gets a different one. Jack’s is Black Forest Gateau. Ianto’s is tiramisu with Sabra liqueur, Owen’s is sticky toffee pudding, and I get cocoanut meringues. I don’t know how Sister Enid chooses them, but they are perfect.”

            “Meringues?” Gwen moaned.

            “Big, fluffy ones with shaved cocoanut… yum.” Tosh licked her fork. “I wonder what she’ll choose for you.”

            “Why is it that birds can get more fun out of sweets than sex?” Owen complained, wolfing down his slice in two bites.

            “Probably because most of the time the sweets are better.” Tosh retorted. “Come one, Gwen, let me show you how to run those searches you were asking about.”

            As she followed Tosh, coffee mug in hand, Gwen could hear Jack and Ianto snickering at Owen’s whiny complaints. She grinned. Two days, and she felt more at home here than she had done after four years in the police department.

            “So what is it you’re trying to cross-tab?” Tosh asked.

            “Well, according to this bestiary Jack gave me, a full-grown cockatrice’s glare can turn someone to dust. Right? So if we cross tab police reports of missing people…”

            “Where there was unexplained dust or other debris and we arrange the incidents by date, we can track the point of origin of the eggs.” Tosh typed rapidly. “Oh, you’re good.”

            “I’m a copper. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

            “All right, it’s running.”

            Gwen perched next to Tosh. “Now, show me how I would do it if I ever wanted to try something similar and you’re on vacation or something.”

            Tosh gave her an incredulous look. “Vacation. You believe we get vacations. Let me tell you about Jack’s idea of a…” She was interrupted by a soft ping. “Well, that was quick. Let’s look.”

            She hit a few keys. Gwen, looking over her shoulder, gasped as she read the information. They looked at each other, and then shouted in unison.

            “Jack!”

            “I hear the dulcet tones of the Torchwood all-woman choir,” Jack caroled as he came downstairs. “What are you two up to?”

            “Gwen thought we could track the origin of the eggs by looking for missing persons where dirt or debris of some sort was found, so I set up a search program against police reports.”

            “Well done, ladies. And you got some hits?”

            ‘We got two. But Jack… it was here. In Cardiff. Last night.”

            “That’s not possible. After a cockatrice lays its eggs it leaves the area, otherwise its babies would have it for lunch when they hatch. And no, Gwen, before you ask, roosters don’t lay eggs. That part is nonsense.”

            “I figured that out by myself, Jack,” she answered tartly. “Tosh, can you bring up the reports?”

            “Here we are. Thomas Sandiwell and Alan Jones, both twenty-three, Cardiff University students, out on the pull with some friends. At the Elephant Walk, that’s the new club on Mermaid Quay, they were seen leaving at around one a.m. with a girl. When they didn’t show up for classes or lunch the next day, their mates called police. They weren’t anywhere to be found, but the police did find their clothes in the alley behind the club, thrown on top of some piles of dirt.”

            “Any CCTV footage?” Jack asked.

            “Let’s see.” Tosh brought up the schematics of the surveillance system. “Yes, this one here. Look straight down the alley.”

            “You’re telling me you can access the feed and record of any CCTV camera in Cardiff?” Gwen asked.

            “You’re thinking small, Gwen,” Jack chided. “Ah. There we are.”

            Tosh’s monitor showed a rather grungy alley ending on a blank wall. Overflowing rubbish bins lined the walls on either side. One or two doors stood open, spilling little pools of light onto the flagstones. It was empty for a few minutes. Then one of the doors swung wide open and three people staggered out. The two men looked exactly like what they were. The girl… Gwen sucked in her breath.

            “What do you see, Gwen?”

            ‘Two guys and a…”

            “Gwen. Tell me what you see.”

            “She’s not… alive. But she has an aura. Black. Flashes of red… lightning. So much rage. Jack…”

            He raised his hand. She fell silent, watching him. His attention was completely focused on the monitor, where the two men had backed a very willing girl against the wall.

            “Tosh. What do you see?”

            “A very unhygienic act… eew, on the rubbish bin? They are exactly what one would expect, two college students getting lucky. She is small, slender to the point of emaciation, but rather pretty… there.”  A still show appeared at the bottom left hand part of the monitor. “Full frontal view of her face. I’ll start the pattern-recognition software matching it against all vital records… oh.”

            The men had suddenly dropped to the flagstones, convulsing, as blood seeped through their skin. Above them, the girl stood, hair flowing out behind her in a non-existent wind, arms stretched out. Gwen could see their energies being drained into her, fading from green to blue to red to black as their bodies were consumed. At the end there were only two piles of dust and clothes left on the ground. The girl, smiling, stepped over them as if they were trash. She walked out of the alley, seemingly headed towards the pier.

            “Tosh, can you pick her up?”

            “I can try, but the cameras down there get sabotaged regularly. People don’t like the police knowing what they’re up to when they’re misbehaving.” She brought up the map again. “This could take some time.”

            “All right, you work on that. Ianto!”

            “Right here, sir.” Ianto stood behind them, Jack’s coat over his arm. “And yes, I will handle the UNIT meeting. After all, I was the one who drew up the agenda. Owen is dissecting and analyzing the eggs.”

            He shook out the coat and helped Jack into it, twitching it into place and smoothing the shoulders with a caressing gesture. Gwen noticed the very private smile the two exchanged as Ianto stepped back. Out of their sight, she raised her eyebrows at Tosh, who gave her a small smile and nod before turning back to her keyboard.

            “Come on, Gwen.” Jack said. “We’ll go have a chat with Thomas and Alan’s mates. They might know something they’re not telling the police.”