Torchwood-fest - A Torchwood Carol (Part Two)

[m_findlow]

Title: A Torchwood Carol (Part Two)
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Owen, Torchwood team, Andy, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 12,203 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Prompt - Owen Scrooge at torchwood_fest
Summary: Owen isn´t looking forward to Christmas and doesn´t want to celebrate at all as three ghosts appear which show him his sad childhood, Torchwood and the future.

Owen stepped through and was immediately thrown not into the hallway, but into yet another apartment. 'What, no car ride this time?'

Andy gripped his lapels. 'Are you joking? Carols at the Castle was due to finish at half eight. Traffic out there right now will be mental.'

'Not as mental as having to watch the happy couple enjoy their ridiculously happy lives that no other Torchwood officer in living history has ever had,' Owen griped. 'Makes you sick sometimes.'

'Hey, just remember we're not all that thrilled about Gwen getting married, yeah?'

Owen snorted. 'Oh, don't tell me you had a thing for her?'

Andy bristled. 'It wasn't a thing,' he said, adding little quotation fingers around the word. 'Just didn't want her marrying some useless twat, that's all. She deserves better.'

'I've fucked her. Trust me, you're not missing out on all that much.'

'Yes, thank you,' Andy said, sounding suitably annoyed. 'That was far more information than was strictly required.'

Owen shrugged. 'Just saying. You know how Gwen is.'

'Yeah. Heart in the right place, foot usually in her mouth,' Andy quipped.

'So, come on, then. Let's get the mushy, life is beautiful garbage out the way.' Owen rounded the hallway and stood at the entrance to the Cooper-Williamses living room.

'Right, that is the last of them,' Rhys declared, heaving two giant bags full of wrapped gifts into the living room, dumping them by the side of the sofa. 'Next year I swear we just buy gift vouchers. They don't need wrapping at least.'

Gwen lay slumped on the sofa, mindlessly watching the TV which was almost on mute.

'Cup of tea?' Rhys asked.

When Gwen didn't respond, he stood in front of the TV, blocking her view. 'Earth to Gwen,' he said, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked, coming back to herself. 'Sorry. Just tired.'

'Looked like you had more on your mind than just being tired,' Rhys said, coming to sit next to her on the sofa. 'It's Christmas Eve. Tomorrow's the best day of the year. Three days of no bloody rift, no bloody Torchwood and best of all, no bloody Jack Harkness.' He chuckled at the last one, trying to get a rise out of her.

'Almost prefer that,' she muttered.

Andy nudged Owen as he tucked his cap under his arm. 'A bit of trouble in paradise?'

Rhys frowned at her, placing a hand on her leg. 'What are you saying, Gwennie? You don't want to go to Christmas lunch tomorrow?'

Gwen heaved a sigh. 'I know your mum, Rhys Williams. It'll be "when is Gwen going to bring us a grandchild for Christmas? Always working. Doesn't she want kids? Is there some thing wrong with her?" Then she'll start going on about that woman Karen you dated before me. How she runs into her down the shops all the time, and how  lovely it is to catch up with her, and how Karen has three grandchildren now and...' Tears were starting to form in her eyes at the thought of being compared to some supermum.

'Hey, hey,' Rhys said, reaching over to give her a hug. 'It's okay.'

'I do want children, Rhys, you know that, don't you?'

'Of course I do. Hell of a job being pregnant whilst you're trying to save the world though, eh?'

Gwen's fingers fussed at the edge of her sweater. 'I keep worrying, Rhys. What if we did get pregnant? Why if I did something, or was exposed to something. What if I hurt the baby?' Tears fell thicker and faster now as Rhys hugged her tightly to him, letting her exorcise her fears.

'Hey, it's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. It'll happen when it happens and it'll all be fine. D'you think Jack would really let something happen if you were? Would any of them?'

'Yeah, Owen. Would you?' Andy said, giving him another nudge.

'Didn't think she really wanted it,' he replied. 'Married to the job more than Rhys some days. Not that she'd ever admit it. Comes in smiling and banging on about how wonderful Rhys is and all that. How she's got this perfect little life and Torchwood is just the cream on top.'

'And never admits to you or anyone else that maybe she thinks she's the one who's flawed,' Andy finished for him.

'I'm sorry,' Gwen said, brushing the tears from her face with the heel of her hand.

Rhys brushed her hair away from her face with his hand. 'Look, if she starts on any questions along those lines I'll just tell her it's none of her bloody business, alright? We're in this together you and me, yeah? You don't have to make excuses to go into work just because you're worried about my mum giving you a hard time. You're the best thing in this world, Gwen. I mean that. All the rest of it doesn't matter. Even if we never have kids. You just don't go anywhere on me, alright?'

She gave him a half-hearted smile and reached up to cup his cheek. 'Can I marry you again, Rhys Williams?'

'No way,' he said. 'First one cost us a bloody fortune. Never did get a penny out of Jack for ballsing it up on us. Owes us half at least. Did you even see the bill for all the champagne he used retconing all our family and friends? Didn't use the cheap stuff either.'

She silenced his tirade with a kiss, before clambering on top of him to give him a few more.

'Yeah, I think we've seen enough now,' Andy said, grimacing at the overt display of affection.

'For once I couldn't agree more.'

When they exited the apartment block at street level, there was Andy's police vehicle, parked right out the front. How it had gotten there was anyone guess since they'd left it parked at Tosh's.

'Well, that's me done, then,' Andy said turning to face him. He slipped his police cap back on his head and made for the car, leaving Owen just standing there.

'What, you're not even going to drop me back off at the pub?'

'Sorry, but my shift is over in half an hour and I'm planning on being at the station right on the dot to clock off. Usually there'd be a round of eggnog but that DI Cutler bloke is on duty tonight and the grumpy old bugger has banned any alcohol on police premises. Miserable git. Sooner I get home, sooner I can crack open a can and then sleep til noon.'

'You do realise you're not real, right?' Owen yelled after him.

Andy's hand paused on the car door handle. He smirked at Owen. 'Well, sure, but I'm not the one talking to me, am I?'

Owen cursed as the police car pulled away, leaving him standing there in the darkness. 'Bloody git,' he grumbled as he pulled his phone out, trying to book himself an Uber and finding that his mobile had zero reception. He held it up over his head for a minute and then checked it again. 'What's wrong with you?' he whinged. 'Perfect reception in the sewers under Splott but I can't call a taxi from Riverside? What a load of bollocks.'

'Cooee!' sung out a voice. 'You won't get any coverage out here on that walkie talkie thing.'

Owen scowled at the man approaching in his grey three piece suit, bowler hat and polished brogues. The man stopped just short of him and gave him an appraising up and down look. 'Oh dear, well you are a miserable sight,' he declared. 'Never fear, though, fabulous me is here.'

'And who the hell are you?'

'Norton Folgate, my boy. Torchwood operative, 1953 to... well, today, I suppose. Looking rather splendid for my age, wouldn't you say?'

'Yeah,' Owen said looking around for anywhere else he'd rather be. 'Look, I've already done the Christmas past thing, so you can sod off.'

Norton had a rather self-satisfied expression on his face. 'Oh, no. I think you must be confused. We're not in the past. Rather, this is me in your present, soon to be your future. Consider me your chaperone into the unknown.'

Seriously? Now he had some looney Torchwood agent from the dark ages here to heckle him? When was this crazy night going to end?

'So, come on, bish bosh. We've got places to be.' Norton took off at a brisk pace, not bothering to wait for Owen.

Owen begrudgingly followed the man who had the campest gait Owen had ever seen. He swung his hips like a woman and cavorted, whistling some silly tune as he went. 'How come I've never heard of you if you're Torchwood?'

'Have you memorised every personnel file?'

'Well, no, but...'

'Then do not ask foolish questions. Just wait until you get one of those Torchwood assessors come along out of the blue. By crikey, that old bat is a loon and a half. Lord only knows where they dredged her up from. Quite partial to a tipple, though, I must say. We had quite the brandy party the last time she visited. Perhaps they're pickling her in the stuff. She'll still be assessing Torchwood three millenia from now at this rate. This is more of a one off situation, though aren't you glad it's me?'

Owen seethed at being treated like a child. Even Jack was never this bad, striding off in front of the rest of them with his stupid coat flapping about behind him and carrying on like they should be awed just to be in his presence. 'How far are you planning of dragging me around like this?' Owen complained.

'Just down this alleyway. Not far to go now. Nothing like a brisk walk to perk up the old constitution.' Norton paused to turn around and look back at him. 'And before you ask, no, I do not proposition gentlemen into alleyways. And you, sir, are definitely no gentleman. You've nought to fear about my becoming enamored with you.'

'Could've fooled me,' Owen said, though the sarcasm in his voice was losing its enthusiasm. This guy was definitely worse than Jack.

'Dear lord,' Norton cried. 'Some of us have to maintain an air or respectability. No wonder gay people get such a bad wrap in your day and age.'

'I'll level with you,' Owen said, pacing quickly to catch up with him. 'I don't believe in any of this crystal ball, tell you your future bollocks. No one can tell you what you'll be doing in twenty years.'

'Well, it's lucky we're not going that far forward, then. How does twelve months sound?'

Owen snorted. 'Hardly think that'll make a difference. We'll all be doing the same crap we did yesterday, no doubt.'

'Those who are left, that is,' Norton qualified.

Owen came to a stop. 'What do you mean those who are left?'

Norton looked almost sad. 'Dear me, but it's all gone rather horribly wrong I'm afraid. If you'll just come with me down here and around this corner, and there we are.'

When Owen stepped out of the end of the alley, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. The sky was angry, a mixture of orange and black. All he could smell and taste was the acrid smoke that choked the air. The place looked like a wasteland. The skyline, blurred as it was didn't look like Cardiff at all. He reasoned that it couldn't possibly be Cardiff.

Norton clasped his hands behind his back as he surveyed the vista. 'Before you ask, yes, this is Cardiff. Jolly old mess, isn't it?'

He strained his eyes again, just barely making out the Central Server Building right in the heart of the city, and a little way off from that, something that might have been the Millennium Stadium. Of Cardiff Castle sitting on its prominent hill, proud as any Welshman, there was no trace. Not even a broken pile of rubble. He strained to make out the far distance, looking for Mermaid Quay, the Millennium Centre and the silver glint of the water tower, but it was too far away, and there was too much low hanging smoke. 'How?' Owen stuttered.

'Well, it all began at a warehouse where your teammates nearly got themselves blown up or buried alive. Then there was an appearance by a rather grubby man calling himself John Hart. Absolutely outrageous choice of wardrobe, in my opinion, but they do say that those with inadequacy issues tend to window dress. Only it turns out  he's not the real bad guy in all of this. He found Captain Harkness's long lost little brother - oh, spoilers, B-T-Dub - and it was darling little wee brother that did all this. All just to get a little revenge on his big brother for not being there to stop him being abducted by a rather nasty race of aliens when they were children. Someone needs a hug, don't they?'

Owen still couldn't believe his eyes. All thoughts of John Hart or Jack having a brother were completely overshadowed by what he could physically see in front of him. 'What the hell is happening here?'

'Happened, darling. Past tense. This is probably, oh, I don't know, six months afterwards.'

'But...' He could see buildings burning, charred and broken remains of timber, piles of rubble everywhere. And not a single emergency vehicle in sight, nor the sound of wailing sirens. 'Where is everyone? Why aren't they trying to put out the fires?'

'There's a fifty mile exclusion zone around the city on account of the radiation leak from the nuclear plant meltdown,' Norton replied, discussing it as if it were a mere triviality. 'A third of Wales is now uninhabitable for the next two and a half thousand years and half of Cornwall is completely cut off from the rest of the UK. Makes Chernobyl look like a stink bomb going off in a classroom.'

'No. There's no way... We wouldn't let that happen.'

'We?' Norton chortled. 'Don't think for a moment you had any involvement in this, unless of course you count doing absolutely nothing.' Norton scanned the horizon from right to left. 'Half a million dead. Three quarters of a million with terminal nuclear related illnesses. Another two million who'll die in the next ten years. After that, who knows really. Quite unprecedented. Not what old Vicky had in mind when she intended for Torchwood for glorify itself for the good of the empire, I'm sure. Did manage to go out with a bang, though.'

Owen swallowed down the lump forming at the back of his throat. Half a million dead? That couldn't include his team. They were resourceful. They were survivors. 'What about Jack? Jack can't die.' Nothing could kill Jack as far as his medical research could tell. He'd run a thousand tests but nothing could explain why Jack was the way he was.

'Oh, more spoilers I'm afraid. His brother buried him alive, somewhere in the city, although the city didn't even exist in 27AD. He'll still be out there somewhere, suffocating under the bedrock,  though I expect if anyone ever found him he'd be so irradiated that he'll glow for the next trillion years and contaminate everyone he comes into contact with. Probably best to leave him where he is. After all, if he knew what had happened to his team...'

Owen's fists balled up at his sides. 'What happened to them?'

'Oh, trust me, you really don't want to know.'

Owen could feel his temper flaring. 'You've dragged me all the way to this fucking hell hole future. Now tell me. What happened?'

'Ooh! Angsty little thing, aren't you? Well, let's see,' Norton said, thoughtfully tapping a finger to his lips. 'So, there was a bunch of incendiaries planted all over the city that went off simultaneously. There was the cut to the computer server systems that controlled the city's power supply, which threw all of the hospitals into chaos. There was the high frequency audio pulse that sent all of the weevils in the city on a mad killing rampage, cutting off the police and terrorising anyone still left panicked in the streets. All forms of communication were disabled, telephones, radio, TV, and that's nothing to say of the very small problem of having a nuclear power plant going into meltdown because there's no power, and the computer servers are, how would you twenty-first century people put it, up the shizzle? If someone wanted to pen a book on how to utterly annihilate a city, this would be chapters one through seven. Not bad for a first attempt, eh? I suppose that's what comes of being tortured for thirty years by one of the most horrid species in the universe.'

'You still haven't told me what happened to the others.'

'No, I haven't. One last warning, though. You won't like it.'

'Tell me!'

Norton sighed dramatically. 'Very well. After Jack was abducted by his brother and send back to pre-Roman times, the team split up to deal with the carnage left behind. Ms Sato and Mr Jones went to try and restart the servers that powered the city. When that didn't work, they headed directly to the power plant. Only, whoopsee, small snag, the streets are running rampant with vicious weevils. Ianto ends up grievously wounded whilst trying to prevent three of them from ripping out his companions throat. A rather piteous end for one with such fine dress sense.'

'But they make it there, right? Tosh is brilliant. She can fix anything.'  

'Maybe she might have done,' Norton mused. 'If she hadn't wasted all of that time dragging Ianto along with her. He knows he's not going to make it and begs her to leave him behind. I mean, wouldn't you if you had to hold your stomach to stop your intestines from falling out? But she doesn't. She must haul him, oh, at least three miles, even after he's dead, because bless her, she just hopes he's unconscious. He's got entrails dragging after him but never mind that.'

Owen felt a lead weight drop into the bottom of his stomach. 'So, they didn't make it.'

'Oh! Good news bit, though! They did! Only, bad news bit, there's now not enough time to do anything to vent coolant into the reactor. Just enough time for Toshiko to know things have gone completely tits up and then... Kablooey!' Norton clapped his hands together for dramatic effect. 'One nuclear disaster the size of which the world has never seen. My word but wouldn't those Manhattan Project people have paid good money to see that? On the bright side, poor flossy at least didn't suffer terribly long. Not like her friend. I know which one I'd rather.'

Owen's stomach churned at the though of Tosh, frantically trying to stop a catastrophe whilst desperately trying to set aside thoughts about not being able to save Ianto. If he'd been there, maybe he could have done something. At least he might have distracted the weevils sufficiently that the injuries might not have been so bad, used his medical skills to patch Ianto up, or stayed with him until the end, whilst Tosh ran for the power plant. Tosh was tougher than she ever gave herself credit for, but even Owen knew that in her shoes, he'd be fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. 'Not everyone died in the blast though, did they? There must have been people who survived.'

'Of course there were, dear boy. Loads of them. Temporarily at least. But you'll want to know specifics of course. What happens next to our dear Gwen and Rhys, and that lovely simpleton Andrew Davison. They managed to escape the city after the nuclear explosion, but not without receiving a significantly life shortening dose of radiation. Gwen was pregnant at the time, did you know that? Thing arrived three months premature and hideously deformed. Soaked up most of the radiation on her behalf. Horrid little creature even had the audacity to live another three weeks before finally giving up. Ghastly business, and I don't even like children. Rhys is due to pop his clogs any day now. Amazing he's survived this long, to be frank. Most locals barely lived a few weeks. Hospitals across the country wouldn't even take them they were so contaminated. Not enough concrete in Europe to bury the bodies so they just left them all here. I doubt Wales will even have enough healthy people left to field a rugby team at this rate.'

Owen thought he might sick up. This couldn't be the future. They'd been in some tight places before but they'd always figured out a way to get through it. It wasn't just on them either. There were police and special ops and all those people at the nuclear plant who would be there to help out. One man could not create this much destruction.

'Come along,' Norton said. 'Still one more thing to show you.'

Owen jogged after him. Whatever it was, maybe it held the key to knowing how to stop this from happening. 'If you knew,' he began, 'if Torchwood knew this was coming, why didn't you warn us?'

Norton chortled at the insinuation. 'Have you ever tried to tell Captain Harkness something he doesn't want to hear?'

'You mean Jack knew? He knew and he didn't tell anyone?'

'Did he know specifics? No. But deep down he always knew something was coming for him. It was all just a matter of when, really. Probably never expected it was his beloved little brother that would bring him undone, though.' Norton pushed aside a door that practically fell off its hinges and proceeded up the stairs. 'Watch your footing,' he warned. 'The stairs are a bit iffy. Oh, and I wouldn't touch the banister if I were you. Not unless you want to lose your hand to a massive dose of alpha particles.'

Owen gingerly picked his way up the crumbling concrete stairs, hearing bits of them crumble away and drop down into the abyss at the bottom. Norton lead him into one of the apartment block rooms, though it was impossible to discern much of the interior. Everything was covered in a layer of black from the smoke that lingered over the city in a permanent pall, working its way through every open window, exploded wall, crack and crevice.

Norton stepped into a second room and came to a halt, pinching his nose. 'Ever seen a body die from massive radiation sickness? Cooee, but that's one ripe corpse!'

Owen leaned over the corse, trying hard to keep his stomach in check. He'd never seen anything like it. It was black, with skin literally melted off the body, exposing bubbling internal organs disintegrating before his very eyes.

'They don't rot and break down because the bacteria can't survive the conditions,' Norton explained. 'Hell of a science experiment, eh?'

Owen squinted at the mess of a body. 'I can't even make out if it's male or female.'

'It's male of course.'

Owen looked back at the Torchwood agent. 'How can you tell?'

'Use your noggin, dear boy. That's you.'

Owen propelled himself back from the corpse, collapsing back into the wall which gave way under the pressure, having already been severely weakened by explosions. A shower of blackened plaster fell down on him as he frantically flailed at it, like it was attacking him.

Norton tutted, not making any move to help him out of the rubble. 'All because were hungover and couldn't be arsed going to work. Well done, you.'

'No.' Owen shook his head emphatically, getting back to his feet. 'This can't all happen just because of me.'

Norton shrugged. 'Maybe it does and maybe it doesn't. But you weren't there when the team needed you. Now look at you. Just fodder for radionuclides.'

Owen shook his head again. This couldn't be his fault. Sure, he'd had the odd hangover or lie in, and pissed about at work when he was bored with it all, but he'd done plenty of long hours, and he'd never given up on a case when it grabbed hold of him.

He thought back to that whole night he'd spent trawling the phone book, trying to find that murderer Ed Morgan; the weeks commuting between London and Cardiff, pulling apart what was left of Torchwood One, making sure that not a single remnant of a Dalek or a Cyberman survived; his relentless search for the missing piece of the rift machine that would allow them to bring Jack and Tosh back from 1941; and all those case files of bodies with their hearts torn out that no one had managed to connect up properly until he had.

He'd been chewed up and spat out by more weevils than just about anyone, had himself in rotten alien corpses up to his elbows, and done his utmost to patch up his wounded teammates so that they could live to fight another day. How could only little morning off work, one little act of self indulgence as reward for all those grueling hours of loyal service, have resulted in this?

Then he stopped to think about it. The others worked just as hard as he did. When was the last time Tosh had come in late after spending hours attached to her computer? How many times had Gwen come into work after another row with her husband about how he never saw her, and yet never once did she use it as an excuse to leave early. When was the last time he could remember Ianto not being the first person there and the last to leave? Jack had never taken a sick day in the entire time Owen had known him, even when Owen had told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to rest. The man lived and worked at the hub, never stopping, never complaining, never expecting karma to reward him for his selfless service. Did that make Owen the singularly most selfish person he knew?

All his friends, and they were friends, not just teammates, who'd never done more than half-heartedly tease him for being lazy or snarky - who perhaps should have called him out and given him a bollocking for being such a prat - had just gone out there and done their jobs without him, never expecting him to turn up and help, never once thinking that they needed him there. How had he made such a mess of things?

Norton dusted off the sleeve of his jacket with mild disinterest before buttoning it back up. 'Well, I think that is that,' he announced, removing himself from the room and making for the door.

'Hold up. I'm coming,' Owen called out to him.

'Oh, you're not coming with me,' Norton clarified. 'This is the end of the road.'

'But it hasn't happened yet. I can fix this.'

Norton gave him a curious look. 'Can you? Not from where I'm standing.'

'It can't end like this. I'll find Jack. I'll warn Tosh. I'll-'

'You'll put all that responsibility right back on them,' Norton replied. 'That's you fixing things. I must say, I didn't believe them when they gave me this assignment, but now that I've spent a bit of time with you, they were right. No point taking you back now. Might as well stay here and enjoy your future. It is, as they say, inevitable.'

'No, you can't just leave me here.'

'Cheerio!' Norton gave him a little wave and then he was gone, just disappeared as if he'd never been there in the first place.

'Norton? Norton! Get back here!' Owen's eyes flew around the room in a circle, beginning to panic at being left here alone. How was he supposed to get back without help? He spotted the doorway Norton had exited from. Doorways. Yes, hadn't Mary said he could have left any time if he just by stepped back through where he'd come? He passed through it, but nothing happened. He tried to make for the stairwell but the door he'd come through into his apartment was now locked shut. No matter how he tugged at it, it wouldn't budge, like there was a block of concrete holding it shut from the other side, trapping him inside. He tried all of the doorways in his apartment, but they just lead him from one blackened and destroyed room to another, finally returning him back to his bedroom.

He was trapped here. The realisation hit him hard. He was here, stuck in a nuclear wasteland, alone with no way out except to jump from a window eight stories straight to his own death, or wait for radiation to destroy his body several billion atoms every second.

His gaze landed on the corpse, his own dead body, already lying there in the filthy bed. One gelatinous eyeball stared back at him, then it suddenly exploded in on itself and Owen screamed.

 

'No!' Owen started and his eyes flew open. He felt something rock underneath him and he blindly grabbed at the surface underneath his arms, trying to prevent his world from crumbling out from beneath him as he squeezed his eyes back shut in sheer terror. He imagined the whole apartment block disintegrating, burying him alive with all the other irradiated corpses, and he gripped everything just that little bit harder. When the inevitable crash and the crushing of his body didn't happened, he forced himself to open his eyes. As his vision came back into focus he could see that what he'd grabbed was the top of the bar. The rocking sensation under him was only the stool which was now balanced back where it should be after its occupant had nearly sent it spilling sideways. On the bar his bottle of beer had been knocked on its side and was now dribbling out lager across the surface.

He turned on his seat, one hand still keeping purchase on the bar as he looked around, eyes wide as he drew in a ragged breath. He was back in the present. The Kinks was on repeat at the jukebox in the corner, just as it had been before Mary had appeared. Across the way was the girl who'd snubbed him earlier, hanging out with her mates, all of them giving him a curious look before going back to whatever it was they'd been talking about.

He clocked the patrons in the bar one by one. There was no Mary, no PC Andy, and no Norton.

'Shit,' he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. A dream. It had all been just a dream. Cardiff was still here, still standing. None of it had happened.

'Seen it all now,' the barman said, coming over and righting his bottle, wiping a cloth over the surface to clean away the spilled beer. 'Thought you were passed out n  the bar but I know you've only had two beers. Never had a patron fall asleep at the bar before. Knackered is it? Only looked like you woke up from a crazy dream there.'

'Yeah,' he replied, feeling disoriented. 'Bloody nightmare, actually.'

The barman rested his elbows on the bar, giving Owen a grim little smile. 'Either way, can't have you worrying the customers. Think you should go home and have your bad dreams there, eh?'

Owen couldn't disagree that it sounded like very good advice, but after the dream he'd had, there was something he needed to do before going home. 'What time is it?' he asked.

The barman looked up at the clock on the back wall. 'Almost ten.'

Good. There was still time. Time to start making up for all his stupid selfish ways. He grabbed out his wallet and pulled out two twenty pound notes. 'Do me one favour before I go,' he said. 'I'm going to need a few for the road.'

 

Owen pounded on the door, keeping it up until finally he heard the latch being undone on the other side. Tosh looked suitably confused to find Owen standing outside her apartment, banging on her door with a six pack of expensive beers tucked under this arm.

'Owen, what are you doing here?'

He grabbed her by the hand and began dragging her out through the doorway. 'You wanted to catch up for a drink, Tosh. Here's a six pack,' he said, bundling it into her ams. 'It's that fancy pale ale stuff you only drink when we go out with the others. Get in the car and knock back one of those on the way.'

Tosh looked at him like he'd lost his mind. 'On the way where? Owen, what are you talking about?'

'Come on!' His patience was wearing thin with all the questions, tugging on her hand again. If they didn't get a move on, they were going to miss the others.

Tosh finally pulled her hand free. 'Alright! I'll come. But will you at least let me put some proper shoes on first?'

Owen cast his eyes down and found fluffy blue slippers at the ends of her jeans. 'Uh, sure,' he said, feeling stupid for now having noticed them. 'Just make it quick.'

'Will you at least tell me what's going on? Is it the rift? Is everyone okay?'

'Everyone's fine,' Owen assured her. 'I'll explain everything when we get there. Just trust me.'

 

Jack stretched his arms up into the night sky and yawned loudly. 'I don't know about you, Ianto, but I'm just about all ho ho ho'ed out.'

'Well, let's get you in the car and off to bed before anyone else notices Santa wandering Cardiff,' he replied, buttoning up his coat against the chilly night air. 'They'll start asking you where your reindeer and sleigh are parked. They'll be gutted when they find out Santa drives a black SUV. They'll have to rewrite all the Christmas carols.'

'Oh what fun it is to ride in the Torchwood SUV!' Jack sing-songed.

Before Ianto could roll his eyes and to loop an arm around his jolly looking Jack, a familiar blue Renault pulled up right beside him. Gwen jumped out and walked around the car looking serious.

'I'm here.' She paused and did a double take. 'But why is Jack wearing a Santa suit?'

'Well,' Ianto began, before the roaring sound of a sports car came rumbling up behind Gwen's, pulling over. Owen and Tosh leapt out and came over to join them.

'Well, the gang's all here,' Jack said, 'but the sixty four million pound  questions is why?'

Gwen frowned at him. 'I got a message saying to meet here and that it was urgent.'

'Wasn't me,' Jack said, throwing his hands up.

'Definitely not us,' Ianto confirmed. 'No rift activity all evening. I double checked.'

'So, then who?'

'It was me,' Owen piped up.

Gwen's eyebrows knitted beneath her fringe, poking out of its woolen beanie, as she looked at him. 'You? Why?'

'Cause I was supposed to have a drink with you,' he said, nodding at Tosh, 'and I was supposed to volunteer to help at a shelter with you two,' he added, gesturing at Jack and Ianto, 'and I was probably a grinchy old prat to you,' he said, looking at Gwen. 'And instead I selfishly went off and did my own thing. Now, I know they've pretty much shut up shop here for the night, but there's a homeless shelter across town that is going to be up to its armpits in people needing food, medical care and a warm place to kip for the night. We can do that.'

'We?' Gwen asked. 'You dragged us all out here? For that?'

'We're a team, aren't we?'

Jack folded his arms. 'Okay, who are you and what have you done with the real Owen Harper? I know Owen and he doesn't do charity.'

'As demonstrated earlier this evening,' Ianto added, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

'Sod off Santa. And you too, Teaboy.'

'Sounds like our Owen,' Ianto quipped.

Owen took in the looks of incredulity from his teammates. 'Can't a bloke just be grateful for what he has and give something to someone less fortunate?'

'Now I know he's been taken over by an alien,' Gwen said.

'We should definitely have him locked up and a full body scan done,' Ianto agreed.

'Shut yer trap Teaboy. This was your idea.'

'He turned up at my door with a six pack of beer,' Tosh said. 'A little bit on the late side for Christmas drinks, but I believe him. Anyone can have a change of heart, can't they?'

Jack smirked. 'A quadruple bypass since he left work? Did you operate on yourself, Owen?'

'Probably found it hidden in a shoebox at the back of his wardrobe, tucked away like Davy Jones,' Ianto teased.

'Har bloody har.'

'Well,' Tosh said, grabbing his arm in a way that was decidedly familiar and not at all unpleasant, 'I think it's a great idea. I don't have anywhere else to be tonight. And it is Christmas after all. There's always someone less fortunate we could be helping.'

Gwen sighed. 'I suppose Rhys and I don't have to be at Brenda's unitl one o'clock tomorrow. That still gives us time for a bit of a lie in.'

Owen looked at the pair of men. 'What about you two?'

Ianto shrugged. 'Why not? Can't let all of that arm twisting go to waste. I'm up for a few more hours of dishing up meals if you are.'

'Just one question,' Jack said. 'Do I have to keep wearing the Santa suit? Only I don't have any gifts left to give and this beard is itching like crazy!'

Owen smirked at him. 'Everyone's gotta sacrifice something.'