Almost Perfect

wearing a really inadvisable beige trouser suit.

‘I’ve been shopping on the way in,’ he explained. ‘Everything so far has been Lisa’s. But I figured it’s a bit… you know…’

‘Creepy?’ Gwen was quietly appalled.

Ianto nodded. ‘Yeah. Dead girlfriend’s clothes. I know. But I still had some of her stuff, and I figured… well, she’s the woman I know the most, really. Well, that’s not true. There’s also my mother. But, firstly, it’s just wrong, and secondly, floral print.’ He put on a brave smile, showing off perfect teeth. ‘Anyway, I spotted this on the way in. It feels a bit more… me.’

Gwen nodded, kindly. ‘Yes. Very nice.’

Jack wandered past. ‘Ianto. Beige. No.’ He vanished into his office.

Ianto sighed. ‘Were you being polite?’

‘No, no. No. Well. A little,’ she admitted.

‘OK. It’s so hard being… you know… A woman. I thought I was doing OK, but the shopping is just…’

‘Hard?’

‘Yes. And expensive. Jack really doesn’t give you a clothing allowance?’

‘No.’

‘Right. And I can’t take this back – I’ve already got Weevil blood on the cuff, and that’s a stain that never lifts.’ He gave her a look, and suddenly Gwen saw the old Ianto shining out of this new body – all Valleys Boy mildly confused by the world.

‘We’ll go shopping. Promise. Or get Jack to take you.’

‘Um.’

‘Is everything… OK… between the two of you?’ Gwen asked.

‘Not really. He’s fine… you know. But at the same time, I think he still worries that I might not be Ianto. And I can’t talk to anyone else about it. Not my friends, not my family. How do I explain? I’ve told my neighbours I’m flat-sitting while I’m… he’s on holiday. If you get what I mean. But they’re not going to believe that for ever. It’s all so bloody… and I can’t talk to anyone. You’re… Gwen… you’re it.’

Christ, Ianto’s unspooling, thought Gwen. Poor lamb.

‘Come on, Ianto. Jack will get you your old body back. Don’t give up. Any luck with the memory pill?’

Ianto shook his head, his long, beautiful hair following lazily, like it was in a shampoo commercial. ‘No, not really. I can suddenly quote all of Under Milk Wood and vividly recall having my wisdom teeth out. But nothing useful.’

‘Never mind. Tomorrow we’re bunking off. You’ll love shopping.’

‘Thank you, Gwen.’

Don’t mention it, thought Gwen, feeling a lot better.

Ianto had combed through Patrick’s Facebook profile and failed to come up with any coherent theories on who might want to kill him, or any brushes he might have had with alien technology. He and Gwen had been delighted to find a picture of Patrick running across a beach in speedos, but that was about it.

Jack was kept fairly busy dealing with reports of atmospheric disturbances around the city. Apparently static electricity was up by a quarter now, which Jack seemed to find curiously amusing.

Gwen was occupied assuring a rather weasel-like Assembly liaison that the Rift honestly had had nothing to do with the ferry crash in the Bay. It was one of those things – slightly mysterious, which meant that Torchwood had to be all over it. But she couldn’t quite work out what to do really, other than interview the survivors, who all seemed a bit dazed and not very communicative. But then, most of them had either hypothermia or concussion so it wasn’t really that surprising. As far as she could tell, the ferry had started taking on water just outside the Bay, listed alarmingly, but had made it into dock. Even Jack’s theory of a mine seemed off – Gwen had examined the hull, and couldn’t find any evidence of an explosion. So: more talking to gruff Norwegians and dazed people who’d been on a hen night.

EMMA WEBSTER IS HAVING IT MEDIUM

Emma Webster logged off from her computer and got ready to go home. She was glowing but exhausted. Who knew being this beautiful would be so tiring? She acknowledged a couple of friendly nods from the boy totty in sales as they left for the day. Tiring, yes, but worth it.

The last couple of days had been a whirlwind. Previously, her life had been mostly about a comfortably poky one-bedroom flat behind a Chinese takeaway and far too many amusing photos of cats from the internet. Now, all of a sudden, she was gorgeous, vivacious and men couldn’t get enough of her. But not tonight. Tonight she just wanted a break.

What’s that, girlfriend?

‘You know,’ she said quietly. ‘Just a nice evening in. Watching some Friends and Scrubs and so on. Bottle or two of plonk, pack of ten and some Muller Rice. You know. Me time.’

Me time?

‘Yeah, yesterday was quite a day, really. I dunno what to think.’

I’ll tell you what to think, babe – get your arse out there and work it. There are drinks to be drunk, hunks to be had. Forget watching George Clooney – you could have George Clooney. Go out there and get him. I know I would.

‘But, you know, I don’t really… you know… I just fancied a bit of…’

I’ll tell you a little secret, babydoll. I NEVER get bored. I don’t like being bored. Being bored makes you boring. You want to know why you ended up alone? You made yourself. Get out there. Catch the eyes of a few tall, dark handsomes. You Know The Drill.

‘But, I…’ Emma saw her quiet night in vanishing.

That’s better girl. You just listen to Cheryl. We’re going to see you have a portion, all right. Tonight, my doll, we’re going to paint the town red and have it large. Yeaaaaaah.

‘Oh, all right then,’ Emma thought to herself. ‘Maybe just a quick one.’

Four hours later, Emma had sex in a car.

JACK IS PUZZLED

Cardiff didn’t make sense. Jack always worried when that happened. Mysterious energy cloud, corpses, that ferry. Ianto.

He wandered down into Owen’s area, and picked up one of the scans they’d done of Ianto. Everything seemed fine. Well, more than fine. He just didn’t get it. He was stumped.

Then he noticed his reflection in the mirror, and blinked with surprise. He had spots.

EMMA WEBSTER IS ON A DATE

She just met him in a bar. He honestly walked up to her, all shy. This had never happened to Emma before, and she just stared at him, like a fish without anything interesting to say. Luckily, he didn’t care.

‘Hi, my name is Joe.’ He grinned bashfully and paused. He was wearing a crumpled suit jacket, under which a striped Dennis the Menace jumper sagged. He was young and looked in need of ironing. He held out his hand, and Emma, slightly charmed, shook it. ‘Look, I don’t really know what to say. Hello!’ he continued, looking genuinely ill- at-ease and drumming the bar.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Emma, genuinely, thinking he was quite a few steps up from the tossers at