‘End of the World.’
‘Analogously?’
‘No, just almost.’
Ianto set the coffee down on the table beside Jack.
‘They’ve been through the wars,’ said Ianto.
‘I guess. They’re gonna have to get used to it.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘More wars coming,’ said Jack.
Ianto left him alone. Jack Harkness took the small, black tile out of his lap and looked at it. It was a piece of exotic technology that had been in his possession since the day he’d joined Torchwood.
The display hadn’t changed. It had been blinking the same read-out for six weeks.
Jack Harkness didn’t know exactly what the read-out meant, but he didn’t need a doctor to know it wasn’t in any way good.
They made last orders in a bar on Mermaid Quay. James got them in, but Toshiko and Owen had to carry the drinks because James was busy with the rubberised ice-pack around his elbow.
‘Here’s to the End of the World,’ said Owen.
‘Let’s hope tomorrow’s quiet,’ said James.
‘Let’s hope tomorrow’s POETS,’ said Gwen.
They all looked at her.
‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘“P. O. E. T. S.”? “Piss Off Early Tomorrow’s Saturday”? The weekend approaches, people.’
‘Speaking of which…’ said James significantly.
‘It hasn’t?’ asked Owen.
‘It most surely has,’ said James.
‘Arrived?’ asked Owen.
‘At long last, as promised,’ said James.
‘The whole deleted series?’ asked Toshiko.
‘Oh yes,’ said James, wiping beer froth off his upper lip. ‘Came in the post this morning from my pal Archie in Burma. Three DVDs. The whole thing, unavailable in the West.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Owen.
‘So, I’m thinking,’ said James, ‘Saturday afternoon, three o’clock-ish, my place. I’ll supply the in-flight nibbles. Owen, booze?’
‘My middle name.’
‘Tosh, some proper food, maybe, for half-time? Those Dragon Rolls and the tempura you made last Christmas, pretty please?’
Toshiko smiled and nodded.
‘I can bring some nuts,’ Gwen volunteered.
‘They’ll already be there,’ grinned James.
‘Do we ask Jack?’ Gwen asked.
Owen frowned. Tosh shrugged.
‘He pretends he doesn’t like Andy, but he really does,’ said Gwen.
‘Of course he does!’ James exclaimed. ‘Everyone likes Andy.’
‘Let’s see what he’s like tomorrow,’ said Toshiko. ‘Then decide if he gets an invite.’
Owen and Gwen nodded.
‘But if he comes around makin’ trouble,’ said James in a beaky voice, ‘I ain’t gonna get in no flap.’
‘I ain’t gonna get in no flap!’ echoed Owen, laughing.
‘No, it’s more nasal,’ said Toshiko. ‘Up in the nose. Listen to how James does it.’
‘Hello?’ said Owen. ‘Punched in the face?’
‘Oh!’ said Gwen suddenly
‘Oh what?’ asked James.
‘I just remembered. I promised I’d go to the pictures with Rhys this Saturday.
‘Can’t you get out of it?’ asked Toshiko. ‘I mean, we’re talking unseen Andy.’
Gwen pulled a face. ‘Christ knows, I’ve blown him out twice this last week. I think we’ll have issues if I muck him around again.’
‘But it’s Andy,’ Toshiko protested.
‘I know, I know…’
‘You should just chuck him and have done,’ said Owen.
‘What?’
‘Rhys,’ Owen said, sipping his drink. ‘You should just chuck the bugger and have done. He cramps your style.’
‘Owen!’ Toshiko scolded.
‘I can’t just chuck him!’ Gwen said, outraged. ‘I-’
‘You what?’ asked James quietly.
Gwen looked at James, and made a small smile. ‘I live with him,’ she said.
‘Well, just make it if you can,’ James said. ‘It’s going to be a blast. Thirteen episodes. Thirteen whole episodes.’
‘I know,’ said Gwen. ‘I know.’
She got back in just after one, creeping like a mouse into the flat in Riverside. The flat was dark, but she could hear the telly still playing from the lounge-diner.
Gwen realised she was very hungry. Her head was still throbbing. She went into the lounge-diner. The TV was playing News 24, but there was no sign of Rhys. Some magazines lay on the couch. A pizza box.
It was empty.
She scurried into the kitchen area, and opened the fridge. Cheese appealed, and grapes. She found some bread in the bread bin.
Her bandaged hands were making heavy weather of slicing the cheese when a voice said, ‘You’re home, then?’
Rhys stood in the landing doorway, his hair tousled, his eyes heavy with sleep.
‘Yes,’ she said, as brightly as she could muster.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Making a snack. I didn’t get anything earlier. Want something?’
Rhys shook his head, but then helped himself to a slice of the cheese she’d cut. She sliced some more.
‘How was your day?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘OK. I taped
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘You’re late,’ Rhys said.
‘Work,’ she replied. She took a bite of her sandwich. Cheese fell out. ‘What are we doing then, on Saturday?’
‘I thought it was the pictures,’ Rhys said, scratching his head. ‘You get a better offer?’
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘There’s a work thingy, but I can just not go.’
‘Be nice to spend some time.’
‘It would.’
‘Important work thingy?’
‘Oh, no. Just some… some stuff that’s come in from Burma.’
‘Top secret, eh?’
