The House That Jack Built: The House That Jack Built

'Have I what?' she replied rubbing at her wet hair.

'Saved the world of course? It happens so often I sometimes forget to ask.' He grinned as he headed to the kitchen.

'No, not today,' she called after him, draping the towel across her lap. 'Today was not a good day.'

Rhys came back and looked at her. 'Tell me about it.'

She smiled to see how much he clearly loved her. 'You don't want to know.'

'I do, of course I do. Come on, Gwen, what sort of husband would I be if I wasn't here to offload on?'

'Two people died,' she said. 'One was only a young lad…the other a woman.'

'Do you know who did it?' Rhys asked.

'We don't even know whether it was natural or not,' Gwen admitted. 'For all we know, there could be more by the morning.'

'But you still came home.'

Gwen smiled. 'I missed you.'

Rhys nodded, returning to the kitchen and opening the oven. 'That and the fact you were starving and knew that I was cooking.' He removed the baking tray and dropped it onto the work surface. 'Spare ribs!'

Gwen caught the smell wafting from the oven and was on her feet and running towards the bathroom.

Rhys bit his lip as the sound of her throwing up worked its way back to the kitchen.

'Or maybe you're not that hungry after all,' he muttered, putting down his oven glove and stepping through to the bathroom.

'I'm sorry,' Gwen said, wiping her mouth and flushing the toilet. 'It was the smell… The woman I said about, she burned to death and… Sorry, I just can't.'

Rhys sat down on the edge of the bathtub and stroked her hair. 'Don't be silly, not your fault… I just wish… I… I don't know.'

'What?'

'Wish I knew all the right things to say to make you feel better,' he said. 'It's not like other people, is it? If your wife comes home from a bad day at the office you listen to her bitch about her boss, say all the right things and help her get it off her chest. With you… Well, what can I say? 'Sorry you've had another day of death and violence, love, fancy a takeaway and a rented movie to take your mind off it?' There's just nothing I can do is there? How can I help you deal with the sort of thing that's your day? I just feel useless sometimes.'

Gwen hugged him. 'You're not useless at all, you're lovely. In fact you're perfect.'

He smiled. 'Oh aye, you're right actually. I forget how great I am sometimes.'

'You do,' she said, squeezing his hand.

They sat there for a moment, holding each other's hands.

'Go on,' Rhys said eventually.

'Go on what?'

'Go back to work,' Rhys replied. 'You'll feel better if you just work through it. I know you, come the early hours you'll stumble on something and it'll all start making more sense and then you can walk away a bit, knowing you've done something.'

Gwen stared at him and felt her love for the man deepen even further than she could have thought possible. 'What did I ever do to deserve you?' she said.

'No idea,' he grinned. 'You're just the luckiest woman in all of Cardiff, I suppose.'

'In the whole world.'

'Whole universe!'

'Now you're talking.' He kissed her on the cheek. 'Go on, I mean it. I won't even miss you. I've got wine, extra dinner and more action films than I can shake a machine gun at. You'll only cramp my style. I had the perfect evening planned before you showed up and dripped all over the sofa.'

She kissed him again, hard, and nodded.

He sat there a little longer as he listened to her grab her car keys and head back out of the door.

'I lied,' he said to himself. 'I miss you more than you ever know.'

Getting up, he headed back into the kitchen to plate up his dinner.

Gwen stepped back into the Hub and walked over to her workstation.

She could hear the sound of Alexander still working away in the Autopsy Room, the occasional swear word or grunt wafting up the stairs. She wondered where Jack knew him from. He hadn't volunteered the information, of course. Did he ever? The old man had just been presented to them as 'someone he knew', and that would have to be enough. Not that she didn't trust Jack, but — and maybe it was the old copper in her — she liked to know who she was dealing with, didn't like secrets. Never mind, secrets were Jack's preferred currency and she supposed one day she would get used to it.

She booted up her computer and settled herself in her chair. While she might not be able to find out anything about Alexander just now, there were certainly more pressing mysteries to hand and hopefully they were something she could figure out. After all, with the facilities she had at Torchwood there was very little she couldn't discover given a little time and enough processing power to run a small country. She had never got over how wonderful Torchwood's search database was. Having worked in law enforcement, she knew that — whatever films said to the contrary — cross-referencing evidence was not the same as Googling. You didn't just put in two or three search strings then get presented with a handful of potential suspects. It took hours and — worse than that — there was no guarantee that you'd find anything useful at the end of it. Actually, scratch that, it was exactly like Google… But not with Torchwood. The database was composed of every conceivable registry: civil, law enforcement, even intelligence services — her computer access alone was enough to have her assassinated as a security risk in nineteen countries.

She tapped in the address and then sat back, wondering what might help to narrow it down. It was depressing to admit there was nothing… The state of the body perhaps? No, that might make things too specific. Chronons? Perhaps. She tapped them in and then deleted it again. Just check the address, start wide and narrow down.

She rummaged in her workstation for the little jar of instant coffee she kept hidden from Ianto, but it was empty. She went to persuade the coffee machine to give her a cup while the computer gave itself a good talking to. She tapped her nails impatiently on the side of the machine as it bubbled and gurgled its way towards a gritty cappuccino. She was sure Ianto had sabotaged the thing to ensure it never came close to competing with his own finely crafted caffeine doses. Perhaps he injected it with river silt. Finally, it dribbled apologetically into a mug, which Gwen carried back to her desk.

Her monitor was attempting not to look smug as it offered an alphabetical list of news reports and police files relating to the road in Penylan. She was surprised by how many there were, even more so once she realised they all related to the same building: the house she had seen the young couple moving in to. But that was nothing compared to the final revelation her computer had to offer. She stabbed at the button of her desk intercom, scanning the text on her screen as she waited for Jack to answer.

'Hey, Gwen,' barked the intercom speaker. 'Please tell me it's not morning already.'

'We need to talk,' Gwen replied. 'Boardroom, twenty minutes.'

'OK,' Jack said as he strolled into the Boardroom. 'Brighten up my night and tell me you've found something we can go beat up. Dealing with Alexander's given me lots of aggression to work off.'

'Sit down,' Gwen replied, connecting her PDA to the projector, 'and shut up.'

'I just love bossy women,' Jack replied, though his smile soon faded as her mood reached him.

The projection screen began to fill with images: an elderly lady with skin as pale as a bed-sheet; a skinny girl, little to her but cheekbones and sadness; a long-haired surfer-type, beard grown thick to hide his youth; a glamorous woman, headscarf and big sunglasses; a myopic balding man, like a mole in a pullover… The faces kept coming, fourteen in all, until one final portrait made Jack sit forward.

It was his own.

'What have all these people got in common?' asked Gwen.

Jack could only shrug, though a suspicion rolled around in his head that was confirmed when she cued up the next image.