Title: Combat (1/4)

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: Something is killing weevils, and Torchwood is out to stop it...
Summary: I'm sorry it took so long, but, with most of Owen's motivation in canon gone from this AU I had to use the basic plot but redo everything else!

The heavenly scent of waffles reached Gwen as she was pulling up her trousers. She grinned. Rhys had the day off and obviously he had decided to send her off to work in the second best way possible. The grin widened and became positively lascivious; the very best had been earlier on, in the shower. She had to give the man points for flexibility, not to mention endurance!

She checked herself out in the mirror one last time. Toshiko had been right; the blue really did nice things for her complexion. She flicked at the long crystal drops in her ears. They did complement the jumper perfectly. She still winced when she remembered the price. Knowing Tosh had done wonders for her style but it had been a complete disaster on her savings account.

When she got to the kitchen she found Rhys putting the final touches on breakfast. He had set the dining table with his grandmother's lace tablecloth and her good china and orange juice in goblets. He had even dressed up in a coat and tie. But it wasn't that what seized her lungs and made her want to burst into tears. In the middle of the table, instead of a centerpiece, was a small ring box.

“Rhys...”

“Don't tell me you're surprised, Gweenie. You had to have known I was going to ask.”

“Yeah, I knew.” Her next breath was almost a sob. “But before we talk about that, there's something you need to know. Something that might change your mind.”

Pure panic flashed in his eyes. “You're sick? There's something wrong?”

“No, no! That's not it.” She took a deep breath, and blurted it out before she could talk herself out of honesty. “I slept with someone else.”

The panic gave way to bafflement and then to rage. “What are you saying, Gwen?”

“It happened only once. I could tell you I had a reason, and I did, but that doesn't really matter. I did it. I could tell you I'm sorry, and I am because it hurts you, us, and I think I'm about to lose the most important thing in my life, but Rhys, I can't be sorry it happened. It saved my sanity, I think.”

“For God's sake, would you try to make sense?” he roared. “Listen to yourself. Being unfaithful saved your sanity? What kind of stupid line is that?”

“It's not a line at all. And I wasn't unfaithful!” She screamed back. “I slept with someone. Once. After I had spent the night with him in a tiny room filled with body parts prepared like beef for the market and we were going to be next, and then we weren't, and Goddess, Rhys, they weren't going to tenderize us and feed on us and it was... you were away on a trip and I needed something to remind me I was alive! Something to drive the terror out of me!”

He sat on one of the high stools at the kitchen counter. “Tell me.”

She told him about the cannibals, leaving nothing out and sparing herself nothing. “And we went to his apartment and he treated my bruises and we showered and went to bed. The next afternoon we went for coffee and then I came home. And it never happened again.”

“And I'm supposed to believe that?”

She shook her head, sending her earrings swinging. “I don't... I think what I need you to do is think about whether you can live with this. If you can't... I'll understand.” She grabbed her jacket. “I won't come home tonight. Once you've made your decision, you know where to find me.”

As she reached the door, he spoke softly. “Why did you tell me, Gwen? I would never have known.”

She turned back to him. “Because if we go into this marriage it's forever, and to have forever you need to know you can live with the worst thing the other person has ever done. I will swear to you by my allegiance to the Goddess that what I did was not betrayal and that I will never betray you. But you're the one who has to decide if you can forgive me.”

“Where will you be?”

“I'll see if Tosh can put me up. If not, I'll probably stay at the Hub. Jack and Ianto stay at Ianto's apartment these days.”

She barreled down the stairs, paying no attention to where she was going. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she batted them away with the back of her hands. She had done the right thing, yet it felt like she had made the biggest mistake of her life. But she had done the right thing; she had seen what secrets had done to her parents' marriage – the vicious fights and the icy silences – and she wanted no part of that.

She decided to walk to the Hub. It was a cool, sunny day, and maybe the walk would help her clear her head. It had turned out to be a very busy spring after a frigid winter that had driven all the weevils underground. Even the gnomes and pixies had retreated into Annwfn to escape the ice. Now it was as if everyone was making up for lost time. They had spent the last two months running around putting out fires all over Wales; literally, in the case of one barmy poltergeist at a girl's school in Swansea.

The past week had been the worst. Weevils were turning up dead all over Cardiff. Five, by last count, including the one the Fairwater station sergeant had called in the night before. Something had spooked the rank and file bad enough to have them bypass Headquarters and call Torchwood directly. Owen had jumped at the chance of doing the autopsy himself and he and Ianto had gone to pick up the body. She expected Owen to be elbows-deep in weevil guts by the time she got to the Hub.

She turned from Bute Street into Hemingway Road. She didn't like this part of the walk. Some beautiful nineteenth century buildings had been torn down and replaced with a block of flats with a car park behind it that could be reached by way of a narrow cobblestone mews at either end. She knew the old buildings had been past saving, and that the architects of the new ones had really done their best to create something that would blend in with all the other buildings, but she still missed the old ones.

A commotion at the end of the mews caught her attention.  The place was still not ready for occupancy; not all the tiny ground floor gardens were finished, and the construction fence was still up around the car park. She glanced into the mews but didn't see anything. Shrugging, she started to move away, but she heard another sound, and this one she recognized.  There was a weevil in pain somewhere.

She ran down the mews just in time to see two men wrestle a weevil into the back of a van. It was bleeding from a gash on the jaw, but it had given as good as he had gotten. One of the men had the front of his Y-neck jumper slashed to ribbons and several deep gashes on his chest; the other had several bruises on his cheeks and forehead. They had shoved the weevil's head into a bag and were holding it in a headlock as they scrambled to avoid its kicks.

“Oi! Stop that!” She shouted. “Stop it!”

One of the men jumped into the van and pulled at the weevil while the other man pushed. Once they had him in the van, the other man jumped in and slammed the doors shut. The van took off at high speed, careening into the half-finished car park, made a wide circle, and bore down on Gwen. She threw herself out of the way, rolling across the cobblestones. From that position, all she could do was watch as the van drove off.

“X162 MTK, X162 MTK, X162 MTK,” she chanted as she tapped her earpiece. “Tosh, yeah, listen, run me this plate. X162 MTK. And is Jack there?... Yeah? Put me on the speaker.” She scrambled to her feet. “Jack? I just saw two men shove a weevil into the back of a van. Gave Tosh the licence plate. Bute and Hemingway. Car park of the new block of flats...Yeah. No, nothing to see, really. All right.”

She ran the rest of the way and used the slab to get down to the Hub. Tosh was at her terminal, using the large screen to track a small blip through a Cardiff street map while Jack hovered. Ianto was working through the previous day's incident reports, as he did every morning. She could hear Owen in the medical bay, dictating his report.

“Anything on my licence plate, Tosh?” she shouted from midair.

“That's what I'm working on. I've been tracking the van using the CCTV feed.” Tosh waved a piece of paper at her. “The van is registered to Tresillian Transport, owned and operated by one Alan Tresillian. Not exactly a booming business, as the van is the only asset owned by the corporation. Mr. Tresillian has sailed close to the edge of legal a few times but has kept one foot firmly on the side of the angels. No charges and therefore no record.”

“Why would a small time crook want with a weevil?” Gwen jumped off the slab even before it stopped moving and walked over to where Tosh and Jack were. “Because what I saw was definitely a kidnapping.”

“That's one question.” Ianto strolled over also, holding another piece of paper. “Here's another. I have been correlating police reports for the last few weeks. There has been a significant uptick on the number of injuries and deaths from causes resembling weevil attacks. The largest number of injured, and three of the deaths, have been healthy men between the ages of twenty-four and forty-five. What are the odds of weevils methodically and nearly exclusively attacking males who can fight back?”

“Astronomical,” Jack said. “Weevils attack only for two reasons. One, if they are starving. There are easier ways to get food than to attack grown men. Two, if they feel threatened. Weevils are stronger and faster than most human beings. They don’t feel threatened by individuals, only groups.”

“They better start.”

They turned to look at Owen as he came up the medical bay’s stair. “That one,” he pointed over his shoulder, “was killed by one pair of human fists. The fists bled a little and I was able to run a quick DNA scan. One human being beat that weevil to death.”

Jack frowned. “Owen, that’s not possible. Weevils are… No. I don’t see how they could.”

“Simple. First feed your weevil with enough tranquilizers to neutralize his advantages.” Disgust dripped from every syllable of Owen’s answer. “Dope it up so it’s more like an aging boxer who can still kick you if he lands a blow.”

Gwen was looking in Jack’s direction as Owen made his report, and she noticed the sudden tightening under the easy smile. Whoever was doing this was in for a bad time, and no mistake. Then what Owen had said struck home and she realized the reason for Jack’s anger. “Are you saying someone’s setting up fights between weevils and humans?”

“Looks like.” Owen said. “The drug given to the weevil is the kind that breaks down in the bloodstream very quickly. Twelve to twenty-four hours after death, there’s no sign of it. We got lucky when the Fairwater people called us in as soon as they discovered the body.”

“The van has stopped.” Tosh announced. “Industrial warehouse park on Mardy Road.”

“Ianto, with me.”  Jack said. “Owen, get a hold of as many autopsy reports both for the humans and the weevils and see what else jumps out at you. Tosh, see what you can find about Mr. Tresillian’s family, friends, and associates. Be careful not to get caught.”

She grinned at him. “Do I ever?”

He tapped her cheek. “Minx. Gwen, call up every contact you have in every police department in Wales and see if you can find what didn’t get into print. There’s always something in cases like this.” He stopped to peer at her.  “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” She gave him a bright smile. “Go on. Remember it’s your turn to get lunch. Don’t let this one,” she stuck her tongue out at Ianto, “talk you into any of that green stuff.”

“Don’t worry, cariad,” Ianto said blandly. “Only the best bacon grease calories for you.”