Title: End of Days (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:  The battle for the future of Earth has begun

Author’s Note: *deep breath* ok, here we go. I think this might be the deal breaker for some of you. The thing is, I have remarkably conflicted feelings about this episode. I liked the general arc of the story, but the whole multiple-betrayal thing felt forced. Even with Manger playing with everyone’s head, some people are more hard-headed than others! And then there was Gwen bouncing between Jack and Rhys until I was ready to tear off her head. So this is…. very different.

“So what will it be today?” Rhys slid the plate in front of a bleary-eyed Gwen. “Banshees, marching ghosts, or poltergeists?”

“The Great Mother only knows.” She gulped down her coffee and held out the mug for more. “Everyone is being run ragged. Kathy was telling me yesterday that her office is being deluged with all sort of mad reports. People are living on their nerves and starting at shadows.”

“You can’t blame them, can you, considering everything that’s been happening.” Rhys munched on a piece of bacon. “Has anyone any idea of what’s causing it?”

Gwen shook her head. “If we knew that, we’d go to the source. Jack thinks Bilis Manger is behind it. He's had Andy trying to track him down, but so far no luck. Tosh is working twelve hour days keeping all the engines going, and Owen looks like a ghost himself.” She tilted her head, considering the Torchwood doctor. “He really does, no exaggeration.”

“What is he doing?”

“Checking out all the poor bastards that have ended up in hospital or the morgue.  But there's more to it than that, I think.” She sighed. “Maybe I'll try to talk to him later.”

“Doctor Gwen?” Rhys said, teasingly.

“No, just friend Gwen. He's always driven himself too hard. Almost like he has something to prove, even though he has to know Jack thinks very highly of him. But these days...” She shook her head.   “Something feels wrong.”

“Didn't you say Toshiko was his best friend?” Rhys picked up the empty plates and took them to the sink. “Talk to her. Maybe she's noticed something.”

Gwen walked up behind him to wrap her arms around his middle and press her cheek against his shoulder. “You know, that's one of the reasons I love you. You're so Welsh.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” he teased.

“Compliment. You can see the obvious when it's right in front of your face.” She nuzzled into his neck. “On the other hand, I'm always looking for all sorts of subtle ways of doing something.”

“Is that what you do?” Turning around, he grabbed her face between his big hands and kissed her. “You should have asked me why it didn't work.”

“Oh?” She pulled back to see his mischievous smile. “All right, clever Hans, tell me.”

“It's the subtle thing, sweetheart. You're about a subtle as a New Year's Eve fireworks display.”

“Oh, you!” She tightened her arms and reached up for another kiss. “And to think I'm marrying you.”

“That you are, milady, that you...”

Her cell phone rang. She made a face, but reached for it. “Yeah... Hey, Andy...  You do?... Yeah, that'll be good. I'll wait downstairs.”

She put the phone away, letting go of him and shrugging into her leather jacket. “Andy's found Bilis Manger. He owns an antique store on Womanby Street.”

“Couldn't be much of a store.”

“He calls it History's End.”

“Cheerful guy.” He finished rinsing the dishes and dried his hands. “Well, each to our own. I'm going to be doing next month's schedule, and God help the twpsyn who wants Cup days off.”

He watched her leave with a smile that turned off the moment the door had closed behind her. He had promised himself he would never tell her, but that job of hers scared him stupid.  She would give it up if he asked her, he knew she would, but was damned if he would ask, no matter what. That sort of sacrifice turned people sour and ruined whatever chances a marriage started out with.  He would rather live with the consequences, no matter how horrible to consider.

The day had dawned sunny and cool, and the weather bloke had promised absolutely positively no rain until the evening, so he decided to walk to the train station. It was a bit of a hike, but he needed the exercise; too much cooking and eating, not enough running.

It was still early, so he walked through the park rather than use the pedestrian shortcut, marching briskly down the footpath that paralleled the brook. There were still a few late dahlias out, but fall was in the air and in the soil. He liked the crisp clarity of this time of year, with its hint of cold, but not having yet to bundle up in heavy coat and scarf.

He heard the sounds as he was reaching the park gates. A baby was crying. It sounded cold and hungry, and something in the sound tore at him. He turned in a slow circle until he could pinpoint the source: a small but fairly overgrown copse of trees directly across from the gates. He picked his way through the flower beds that lined the path and then ran towards the trees.

As he reached them he realized there was a small trail that led into the copse. He could see where horses had trampled down the grass. Odd. There were no stables near the park that he knew of. His cousin, who loved to ride, always headed out to the centres in Pontcanna or Caerphilly. Besides, this looked like an army had passed through.

He followed the trail towards a small clearing. He knew what he would find even before he got there; there was nothing like the smell of blood and shit and dirt mixed together. He had spent most of his spare time until going off to University working with his dad in the farm, and he had done his share of butchering.

The clearing came as a surprise. It looked bigger than it should have been, almost as if he were in a real forest and not in the middle of Cardiff. There were men and horses strewn about like ninepins, great big pieces hacked off as if by a giant's sword. Some of the wounds were still bleeding.  The baby's cries were coming from the other side, where four horses had fallen in a semicircle around a fifth one that had been pushed against the trees as if to use them for protection. It was a battlefield, he realized, and these people had lost the battle.

He started toward the sound, reaching for his cell phone as he went. This was Torchwood business, he thought as he examined the bodies he passed. Tall and slender, with sharp-angled faces and hair the color of winter wheat, wearing fur capes, and their hands gripping swords with jeweled hilts, they looked like Tylwyth Teg, but of a kind he had never seen before. It was all of a piece with the ghosts of the Roman soldiers and the Bute Banshee, and all the other odd things that had been popping up for the past month.

He started to call Gwen, but thought better of it. If she and Andy were stalking Manger, another distraction was the last thing she needed. He searched the address book until he found Toshiko’s number. She had entered it in herself during a quiet conversation while the others pranced about the dance floor the night after their confrontation with the Unseelie Court. That way you can always reach someone, she had said, seeing through his brave front.

She answered on the first ring. “Rhys? Is everything all right?”

“I’m all right, but I just ran into something you lot need to look at.”

“Leave your phone on. I’ll track you. Be careful, Rhys.”

He followed her instructions, but kept looking for the baby. He finally found it clutched in the arms of a woman who was either already dead or as close to it as made no difference. It was wailing angrily, pumping its fists in the air. He reached down to pick her up, and as he did, the woman’s eyes popped open.

“Cúram a ghlacadh dá,” she said, and it should have been babble, but somehow he understood the meaning behind the strange kind of Gaelic she spoke. “Beidh a máthair a lorg a.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I will take care of her until her mother comes.”

She seemed to understand him. Slowly, she let go, her head falling back, the light dying out in her eyes. He picked up the girl child and held her against his chest. He unwrapped her blankets and checked her for wounds, but she didn’t seem hurt.

“Hello, cariad, pretty thing. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.” Her emerald eyes tracked his every move, as if she could understand him. “You know, elves do seem to lose little girls regularly, don’t they? Or are you a Tylwyth Teg at all?” He started back across the field. “Pretty girls don’t belong in this mess. We’ll wait for them by the trail entrance.”

He didn’t have long to wait. The black SUV drove up to the gates and stopped right across them, blocking the entrance. He had sometimes found their habit of taking up public space annoying, but he understood the need for keeping others from stumbling into the copse. Toshiko and Owen jumped out and ran towards him.

“What the hell are you doing in the middle of this?” Owen growled. “No, never mind, I’ll talk to you later. She’s not hurt?”

“Can’t see anything.”

“All right, I’ll deal with her later.”

Rhys watched him as he jogged down the trail towards the clearing. Gwen was right, there was something wrong with Owen. The doctor would never have accepted his word on whether the baby was healthy. He might not have the world’s greatest bedside manner, but he was seriously committed to healing. He looked at Tosh.

“Is he all right?”

She started to nod, then shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been talking much to me these days. I’ve been thinking of talking to Jack, but…”

“So has Gwen,” he said. “When are Jack and Ianto expected back from Tinkinswood?”

“This afternoon. They wanted to make sure the Captain was comfortable before leaving him with the Tylwyth Teg.”

Rhys chuckled. “He’ll be fine. Gwen’s godmother will look out for him.”

“Yes.” She looked over his shoulder. “Here’s Owen.”

The doctor walked up to them. “Tuatha de Dannan.  Stupid bastards.” He reached for the baby. “Let me see this one.”

At the touch of his hands, the baby woke and started to wail. Rhys clutched her,  keeping her against his chest. “Hold on, Owen. She’s among strangers, and she knows it.”

“She’s seven or eight months old, for God’s sake,” Owen said irritably. “Give her here!”

This time the wails were loud enough to set birds overhead to cawing. Rhys shook his head. “I don’t think she’s ready to let go of me, Owen. How about I go with you?  Maybe you can examine her while I hold her.”

“What? She’s imprinted on you like a duckling? Oh, all right. Into the SUV with you and we’ll sort if out when we get to the Hub.”

Rhys nodded. Behind Owen’s back, Toshiko gave him a smile and mouthed thank you.  Rhys smiled at her, but couldn’t suppress the shiver running down his spine. Gwen had been right. There was something really wrong here.