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m_findlowTitle: Worlds colliding
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Gwen, Rhys
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M (language)
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 181 - Broken promise at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly
Summary: Gwen thought she could have both her old life and her new life.
‘Rhys! I'm home!’ Gwen called out, juggling the two shopping bags between her hands as she attempted to pocket her house keys.
‘Rhys!’ she called out again, carrying them through to the kitchen and beginning to unpack the contents, realising she'd forgotten the strawberry jam. Again. Strawberry jam, Gwen, she chastised herself. The one thing you needed to not forget to buy. How bloody hard was it to remember one single item? It wasn't like they bought a lot, but living off Marmite and peanut butter toast could only go on for so long.
‘Rhys?’ Gwen finally said, sticking her head around the kitchen doorway and spotting her husband sitting perched on the sofa. She immediately read the stiff posture and body language before spying the royal blue top gripped in his hand whilst the rest of their laundry sat untouched in the basket at his feet, still a crumpled mess rather than a neat folded pile on the sofa next to him. In other words, no change since she'd left for the shops half an hour ago.
It wasn't so much the colour of that too he was holding as it was the very visible tear in the side. Balls. She'd meant to toss that out instead of letting it become tangled in the heap with her other dirty laundry. She was not a seamstress and sewing up tears was not in her repertoire of capabilities.
She sped over and plucked it from his hand before continuing on towards the cover of the room where Anwen was busy playing on her play mat, jiggling a terry towel elephant, making the ears crackle with their plastic filling. ‘Hello, lovely,’ Gwen cooed, tickling her baby fat tummy. ‘Sorry, love,’ she said, throwing an apology back over her shoulder. ‘Mummy had an accident, didn't she? You were running around that park and Mummy was chasing you and she got her top caught on that piece of loose cyclone fence and it made a nasty big hole, didn't it sweetheart?’ She was still smiling when she turned her head back to Rhys, who looked at her with a murderous expression. She knew without breaking character that she was in trouble.
‘You promised, Gwen,’ Rhys said. ‘You fucking promised!’
‘Rhys!’ she cried, eyes going wide as she warned him off using language like that around their daughter.
Rhys pushed up from the sofa, unable to even look at her as he began to pace the room. ‘I'm not an idiot, Gwen. You gave your word this would all stop.’
‘I…’ She could scarcely carry on lying when it was obvious he wouldn't believe a word of it. She should have been more careful. How she ever thought she could keep it a secret from Rhys forever was stupid. ‘It was nothing,’ she pleaded. ‘Well, not nothing, obviously, but…’ there was nothing to say right now that was going to placate her husband. ‘I was being careful, I swear.’
Rhys snorted and she saw the back of his head begin to shake in disbelief. ‘And where was Anwen in all of this? God, tell me she wasn't with you.’
She settled Anwen back down and left her to her playing before standing up to confront her husband. ‘I would never, Rhys. You know that.’
‘Oh, aye?’ came the incredulous response. ‘Wouldn't you? Just take her in the pram whilst you pop down to the docks to do some alien killing? Pack the guns in with the nappy bag?’
Gwen's temper flared. ‘How dare you, Rhys Williams!’
‘Jack's gone. Ianto's gone. They're all gone. Torchwood is dead, Gwen!’
‘And you just expect me to carry on like none of it ever happened?’ He didn't understand. It wasn't dead. The rift might have been closed but there were still comings and goings, threats that needed to be dealt with, and she was the only one left. She was making Cardiff a safer place for their daughter to grow up. Just because Jack had given up, didn't mean she had to.
‘After everything they tried to do to us, yes I do,’ Rhys said, finally turning to face her.
‘But the city…’
‘Sod the city! You're not Captain Jack bloody Harkness off to save the world. You don't have a thousand lives. You've got one life and your family needs you.’
‘I tried,’ she said, toying with the damaged top in her hands, fingering the long tear, still slightly dirty where the blood hadn't come out in the wash.
And she really had. Torchwood had burnt her for a long while, and she'd enjoyed their domestic life for a while, just the three of them. She'd been angry at Jack for leaving them. He'd just disappeared for months whilst they tried to put their lives back together and then out of that blue he'd simply called to meet up, except that meeting up had only been so he could stay goodbye and leave forever. At that moment it really had felt like Torchwood had died. She'd had a newborn to fill that gap in her life but then she remembered all the reasons why she'd done the job in the first place. Reasons that still existed even now, and having no one else to make sure that the work they'd done carried on, in whatever small way she could make happen. Being there for her daughter was important but she was much more than just a mother and wife. She owed it to her friends who were no longer with them to carry on in their names, doing the work they'd all been proud of.
She cast her eyes to her bubbly daughter, giggling and bringing more joy to Gwen's heart than she ever thought was possible, and then to the floor in front of her, feeling the rising sense of shame. ‘I don't think I can keep that promise anymore.’
Rhys folded his arms and glared at her. ‘Well, then we've got a serious problem, don't we?’
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Gwen, Rhys
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M (language)
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 181 - Broken promise at
fandomweekly Summary: Gwen thought she could have both her old life and her new life.
‘Rhys! I'm home!’ Gwen called out, juggling the two shopping bags between her hands as she attempted to pocket her house keys.
‘Rhys!’ she called out again, carrying them through to the kitchen and beginning to unpack the contents, realising she'd forgotten the strawberry jam. Again. Strawberry jam, Gwen, she chastised herself. The one thing you needed to not forget to buy. How bloody hard was it to remember one single item? It wasn't like they bought a lot, but living off Marmite and peanut butter toast could only go on for so long.
‘Rhys?’ Gwen finally said, sticking her head around the kitchen doorway and spotting her husband sitting perched on the sofa. She immediately read the stiff posture and body language before spying the royal blue top gripped in his hand whilst the rest of their laundry sat untouched in the basket at his feet, still a crumpled mess rather than a neat folded pile on the sofa next to him. In other words, no change since she'd left for the shops half an hour ago.
It wasn't so much the colour of that too he was holding as it was the very visible tear in the side. Balls. She'd meant to toss that out instead of letting it become tangled in the heap with her other dirty laundry. She was not a seamstress and sewing up tears was not in her repertoire of capabilities.
She sped over and plucked it from his hand before continuing on towards the cover of the room where Anwen was busy playing on her play mat, jiggling a terry towel elephant, making the ears crackle with their plastic filling. ‘Hello, lovely,’ Gwen cooed, tickling her baby fat tummy. ‘Sorry, love,’ she said, throwing an apology back over her shoulder. ‘Mummy had an accident, didn't she? You were running around that park and Mummy was chasing you and she got her top caught on that piece of loose cyclone fence and it made a nasty big hole, didn't it sweetheart?’ She was still smiling when she turned her head back to Rhys, who looked at her with a murderous expression. She knew without breaking character that she was in trouble.
‘You promised, Gwen,’ Rhys said. ‘You fucking promised!’
‘Rhys!’ she cried, eyes going wide as she warned him off using language like that around their daughter.
Rhys pushed up from the sofa, unable to even look at her as he began to pace the room. ‘I'm not an idiot, Gwen. You gave your word this would all stop.’
‘I…’ She could scarcely carry on lying when it was obvious he wouldn't believe a word of it. She should have been more careful. How she ever thought she could keep it a secret from Rhys forever was stupid. ‘It was nothing,’ she pleaded. ‘Well, not nothing, obviously, but…’ there was nothing to say right now that was going to placate her husband. ‘I was being careful, I swear.’
Rhys snorted and she saw the back of his head begin to shake in disbelief. ‘And where was Anwen in all of this? God, tell me she wasn't with you.’
She settled Anwen back down and left her to her playing before standing up to confront her husband. ‘I would never, Rhys. You know that.’
‘Oh, aye?’ came the incredulous response. ‘Wouldn't you? Just take her in the pram whilst you pop down to the docks to do some alien killing? Pack the guns in with the nappy bag?’
Gwen's temper flared. ‘How dare you, Rhys Williams!’
‘Jack's gone. Ianto's gone. They're all gone. Torchwood is dead, Gwen!’
‘And you just expect me to carry on like none of it ever happened?’ He didn't understand. It wasn't dead. The rift might have been closed but there were still comings and goings, threats that needed to be dealt with, and she was the only one left. She was making Cardiff a safer place for their daughter to grow up. Just because Jack had given up, didn't mean she had to.
‘After everything they tried to do to us, yes I do,’ Rhys said, finally turning to face her.
‘But the city…’
‘Sod the city! You're not Captain Jack bloody Harkness off to save the world. You don't have a thousand lives. You've got one life and your family needs you.’
‘I tried,’ she said, toying with the damaged top in her hands, fingering the long tear, still slightly dirty where the blood hadn't come out in the wash.
And she really had. Torchwood had burnt her for a long while, and she'd enjoyed their domestic life for a while, just the three of them. She'd been angry at Jack for leaving them. He'd just disappeared for months whilst they tried to put their lives back together and then out of that blue he'd simply called to meet up, except that meeting up had only been so he could stay goodbye and leave forever. At that moment it really had felt like Torchwood had died. She'd had a newborn to fill that gap in her life but then she remembered all the reasons why she'd done the job in the first place. Reasons that still existed even now, and having no one else to make sure that the work they'd done carried on, in whatever small way she could make happen. Being there for her daughter was important but she was much more than just a mother and wife. She owed it to her friends who were no longer with them to carry on in their names, doing the work they'd all been proud of.
She cast her eyes to her bubbly daughter, giggling and bringing more joy to Gwen's heart than she ever thought was possible, and then to the floor in front of her, feeling the rising sense of shame. ‘I don't think I can keep that promise anymore.’
Rhys folded his arms and glared at her. ‘Well, then we've got a serious problem, don't we?’
