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Jul. 13th, 2007

smile: casual corner

(no subject)

Jumping into this thing...Collapse )
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Jul. 11th, 2007

casual name

[theinternetcafe]

[Filtered to Jack, Tosh, Ianto:]

I'm heading out to find Owen. He's not been picking up his calls, and if anything's wrong -- I'm sure it's nothing, but if anything's wrong, I thought I'd be the best person to go looking. I'd just sit here and worry if anyone else went, and the rest of you've got to stay here and do our real jobs, so...

I'll call if I need anything, or once I've found him.
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Jul. 8th, 2007

serious name

[theinternetcafe]

One of these days this job's going to kill me.

But not today.

I do feel like I could sleep for about six years, though. I'm all right, though, if anyone was worried. With all the cryptic entries flying around between my co-workers I thought I should get that out there.


[Filtered to Jack, Owen, Tosh, Ianto:]

God, what a mess. I don't even know what else to say. I keep trying to focus on the positive, on the info we got about the glove and the knife, what we learned about the effects of Retcon -- but I just keep seeing her, and thinking how close I came to being--

It gets easier, right?

Jul. 6th, 2007

oh shit

For theinternetcafe

[Filtered to Jack, Owen, Tosh, Ianto.]

Well... shit. I suppose "oops" is a bit of an understatement?

But it's fine. It'll be fine. I'll watch her, talk to her, see what I can find out until... we're not just going to leave her like this, are we? I mean, I know we can't let her go, and I can't imagine keeping her here, but we're not going to... what will we do if she doesn't... well, die?




[Private Entry]

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What did I do? I've never done this before, I didn't know what I was doing! They never should've let me do this. I can't do this. I can't.

I'm not cut out for this job. I was just in there with her and... God help me, I know she tried to kill me. I know she's a murderer, but I really sort of... I feel sorry for her, and it's not even all pity. It's... empathy, I suppose. Too much damn empathy; just looking at her makes my head hurt. I could've been Suzie, I could've...

She just wanted to help people, at first. I think at the end, too. She only wanted to help them, and something got all twisted up inside until she thought it was reasonable. What if that's me one day? What if one day I go completely off my nut and they keep me locked up down here, dead, until they can use me again?

Don't think about it, Gwen. Just get in there, do your job, and don't think about the rest of it.

Jun. 29th, 2007

love & naievety

oncoming_storms Prompt #10: The First Rule Is...

[ooc: ... and Gwen-mun is back from the dead! Will be playing epic amounts of catchup this weekend and the coming week. Ping me at frozen illyria on AIM if you want to plot.]

The first rule of Torchwood is you don't talk about Torchwood. It's like that movie (and we won't go into other happenings around this place that were like that movie -- yes Owen, I'm looking at you and your idiotic stunt with that Weevil), only a bit less violent, and with Jack Harkness playing the role of Brad Pitt which, come to think of it, he wouldn't be half bad at. On some level we really don't exist, despite the fact that you may hear the name "Torchwood" bandied about if you're high enough up on the police force or if you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

More than that, I guess the first rule of Torchwood is that you can't know about Torchwood. Talking about it -- well, if you let something slip, there are a million and one lies you can tell to get the person off your case. There's Retcon if they just won't take no for answer, or if you've somehow really screwed up and let someone see something they won't be able to write off. And if you're just too curious for your own good? If you won't back off and leave us alone? Well, you can always join us, can't you? That's the punishment for being just a little too clever and a little too unwilling to let something go. That's the price I paid for being unwilling to simply forget. The first rule of Torchwood is that if you're unwilling to turn a blind eye to some of the inexplicable things that go on in this world, if you push too far, you're going to end up losing everything you used to take for granted as normal.

So don't look. Don't ask. Don't know. If I could go back and advise myself... oh, hell, I know I'd do things the exact same way. I'd make all the same mistakes all over again, because I'm just not the kind of person who takes no for an answer, not when there are things this huge at stake. Not once I'd seen what I saw. Not once I'd learned the truth. Not even once I'd forgotten the truth once. I think the first rule of Torchwood really is that sometimes following the rules get you absolutely bloody nowhere, even if you think you're getting them all right. I know Jack would probably disagree with this if asked, but then sometimes even he breaks the rules.

Now, the second rule of Torchwood... oh, I suppose that'd be "don't get involved with a co-worker", but I think let's leave that one where it is for now, shall we?

Jun. 25th, 2007

default, gwen cooper

Intro post for theinternetcafe

Hello, all. I'm Gwen, Gwen Cooper. That used to be P.C. Gwen Cooper up until a few months ago. Now it's just... well, I suppose I've gotten a promotion of sorts. Now I'm Gwen Cooper, Special Ops. Torchwood, for those few of you who know what that means. I believe you've all met a few of my co-workers already; it seems I'm the last one to show up, which is fair enough, since I was the last one to join the team.

There's so much I could tell you, and so little that I actually can, that I'm not sure where to start. I guess I'll start from hello and work from there. I feel a little bit daffy, posting like this, when originally I just started this journal so I'd have someplace to talk about all these changes that have been going on in my life recently. They're all sort of private, the kind of thing I can't even talk to my boyfriend Rhys about; and I remember a time when I used to tell him everything. It wasn't so long ago, really.

Oh, enough of that, none of you want to hear it. I should've really stuck to "Hi, I'm Gwen, and I'm the new girl." That one's seemed to work well enough so far.

May. 16th, 2007

alone in the office

oncoming_storms Prompt 1.3: Scary Monsters

It wasn't the weevils. Up close they're scary enough, I won't deny I was scared shitless that first time, and when I thought that one was going to tear Owen to pieces, but you stare at something behind a glass wall long and hard enough and it stops being a thing that goes bump in the night. If you look close enough you start to understand it. If you can see it it stops being so scary. So it stopped being the weevils pretty much right off the bat.

Evil fairies? Yeah, okay. I wasn't thrilled with what they did to my flat, but I didn't even really believe in those long enough to be afraid. They were children once. Just children. That's the part that stuck with me after all was said and one: once upon a time, they were just like us.

And that's the part that sticks, always. It's not bloody weevils, or cybermen, or fairies. It's not that alien woman that Tosh fell for, or that thing that sucked all the life out of Jack. It's never been any of that that keeps me from sleeping nights.

It's those people who had us looking all over for an alien threat that never was. It's Evan and Helen Sherman, who lured in strangers and sliced them up into steaks. It's the look in that man's eyes when he told me in all sincerity that he did it because it made him happy. It's Suzie killing people in the name of making the glove work better, then coming back to watch her father die and let me be the cost. It's Owen shooting Jack in the head without flinching. It's me drugging Rhys just so I could fess up to what a cheat I was, and being willing to drag him into the very place that nearly gets me killed every single day.

It's all of that, every single day, and then going back to look at that weevil and wonder which one of us is more scary to the other.

I know most days the only things I'm scared of, really truly frightened of?

They're us.

May. 1st, 2007

no soul to tell

oncoming_storms Prompt #2: Distress Signals

It was always a simple enough concept: if someone needs help, you help them. Before Torchwood, that was a given in my line of work. That's what I was there for. It's a hard habit to break, and one I've never wanted to. But here, with what we do, the things we're dealing with... it gets complicated.

It started off simply enough; we were just following a signal, just chasing some kid in a jacket because whatever he had with him was alien. We didn't know who he was, or even what the thing was. We just were supposed to catch him and get that thing out of reach from the general public. Protecting people from this stuff -- often from themselves, given what people do with these things without knowing -- that's what we do. It's a different way of helping.

Some days I don't think it's enough.

It started with the push of a button. Don't even know why I did it, really. It was just there, and I wasn't thinking about what it might do. I just felt ... like it wanted me to push it. All that blinking and flashing... oh, it sounds bloody stupid now, but it was such a strong impulse that I never even questioned it until much, much later, long after Ed Morgan was dead. Long after I killed him -- and you can save your comforting speeches, I've given them all to too many people not to hear the lie in your voice. I killed him, even if the only thing I did wrong was push a stupid button, see what I thought was the ghost of a little boy, and want to help.

Turns out he didn't need my help, or anyone else's. He was a 74-year-old man with a sad story, but he was fine. I should've left it at him, probably. I would've left it, but Jack pushed us to find more, to find the kid, was so concerned with that and only that he didn't care about what Owen saw. Didn't care about Ed Morgan or what he did. Didn't care about the dead girl, Lizzy. It was all in the past, so it didn't matter, and we were left chasing down a nineteen year old kid who didn't even know what it was.

He said he was going to die. That the other half of the ... thing, whatever it was, when he used it it showed him that he was going to die. Here was someone in the present, in there here and now, not forty or fifty years ago but right now who needed my help. Of course I pushed the button.

And saw myself. Hands bloody, holding a knife, begging for help. Not the kid, not Bernie Harris, but me, talking about how it was too late, how Owen had the knife. How someone died. I couldn't say why Owen would've wanted to kill Bernie Harris, but then who knows why Owen does anything, right?

By the time it all started to click together it was already too late. I just didn't know. I saved Bernie Harris, nasty little bugger that he was. I helped him, and it should've ended at that. But it wasn't enough. Owen got the knife, decided he wanted to scare the old man some more -- not that Ed Morgan didn't deserve that and more for what he did, but it's not our place. We're not the police, and even if we were, it's not our place to punish people.

I killed Ed Morgan. Some would say he killed himself, and that's as true as anything else. I only wanted to help, and some would say I did. Bernie would say I did, saving him. Plenty would say I did in helping Ed Morgan end his life even after all that time, even if it was what he wanted by then. That someone like him deserved to die for what he did to Lizzy Lewis. I might even have said that, if it hadn't been me in the end left holding the knife.

It was always a simple enough concept: if someone needs help, you help them.

Then there was Torchwood.

It'll never be so simple again.

Apr. 18th, 2007

no soul to tell

oncoming_storms Prompt 1: The Most Dangerous

The most dangerous thing in Gwen's life wasn't her job.

Sure, that was the thing that almost got her killed on far too close to a daily basis for comfort. But that she'd anticipated, somehow. She'd known that before she even set foot in the door the first time. The very first time, when she'd come delivering pizza, she'd known that much more was at stake here than one life. That her life, as much as she valued it, was going to change, and that that change might eventually be the end of it.

She knew all that with a sort of calm, detached acceptance that terrified her when she looked at it too closely. It wasn't that she wasn't afraid to die; just getting some shotgun pellets to her stomach were enough to scare the living shit out of her, and she could already barely see the scars from that. Could barely remember what it felt like. Had been back on her feet in minutes, running on pure adrenaline, terrified that a gun was the least of things about to kill her and willing to fight so much harder than she already had to hang onto that life.

But it didn't scare her on a day to day basis. Didn't keep her up at night, though exhaustion tended to take care of that and what sleepness nights she would've had, she'd worn herself out with sex. Not always with Rhys, not after that first big shock that had made her doubt whether or not she could handle it. Rhys had been too safe, and she didn't understand safe after that.

But Owen Harper was far from the most dangerous person in Gwen's life. Their affair had had destructive enough consequences -- her slipping Rhys some retcon was enough to keep her sick with guilt for a few days after. But that had been all her choice, all her own need for forgiveness. Much as she would've liked to pin the blame on Owen for some of the things she'd done wrong in that relationship, she couldn't, not really. She'd made her choices, and Rhys had paid for them. That wasn't Owen's fault.

She supposed she could've pinned all of what had gone wrong on Jack. That he was the most dangerous person around here because he didn't have anything to lose. Shoot him in the head and he gets back up again, and seems awfully willing to take his chances with that every time. She tried to blame him in the end, wanted to make it all his fault, his fault her relationship failed, his fault Rhys died, his bloody fault that she was working here in the first place. If his stupid Retcon pill had worked a little better, she never would've remembered enough to find him again. If he hadn't led his crew right the hell out into the open that night to raise the dead in plain view -- never mind that it was late at night in a back alley and she'd known full well she was snooping -- anyone could've seen. It just happened to be her, and that wasn't her fault.

Except it was.

Her choice to listen. Her choice to follow. Her choice to ask questions, to take risks, to always push, to want everything both ways, to want the happy home life and the torrid affair. To want someone to tell it all to and then to wish she hadn't told. Her choice, every last one of them, and more of them wrong than she'd ever admit, but most of them not ones she can believably say she would've done differently without some special knowledge of the outcome. And even so, special knowledge only went so far.

She'd made mistakes all the while following her impulses that these things were things she had to do, all the while telling herself that it would be okay.

It was a dangerous lie. The dangerous lie, the most dangerous one she could've told.

In the end, the most dangerous thing in Gwen's life, the most dangerous person, was Gwen.

Apr. 17th, 2007

new girl

OOC: Some Notes on My Gwen

These are all, of course, pending discussion with the Oncoming Storms mods as far as how much creative license we have to stray from canon with characters who still have ongoing canon. I mean, I know it's a ficlet community first and foremost but I'm sure you all know how much overlap there tends to be between RP and pure fic. ANYWAY. For my part? I tend to let pure RP get away from canon as it pleases (since, naturally, none of us are the writers of the show, nor are we privy to the scripts, and to let our pups do anything original they're going to stray a bit), and then will either find a way to pull things back, or split my prompts into strict canon and RP canon.

With that in mind, there are two ways in which my Gwen is different from strictly stated canon as of the time this post was written:

1. This one's the logical one: after the events of End of Days, she and Rhys are no longer together. In my mind? He dumped her. But I could see it going either way, so while I may write her implicitly as though Rhys had been the one to end things, I'm only going to say that they aren't together any more and leave it at that, for RP threads, until the new series begins. For the purposes of prompts, I'm going to try not to have to address what happened with Rhys til we know for sure, unless it's purely an RP-timeline-based prompt.

2. This one's the one out of my own crackpot mind:

Gwen is Gwyneth, from the Unquiet Dead. This one is the one I need to drop the mods a note about, in case, for some reason, someone actually wants to app a Gwyneth. And if that should happen, I'll gladly make any prompts that I write that hint at that fact AU, as well as consider any RP to that effect AU. I just... am not 100% certain that's not going to become show canon, since I've read that the role of Gwen was tailored specifically to Eve Myles after her appearance as Gwyneth. My Gwen's LJ name was sort of a reference to that, because Gwyneth's gift, while not strictly manifested in Gwen? Seems to have echoes. Gwen's empathy and perception have been subtly pointed to as unusual: returning Suzie to life permanently with the glove, being able to sense dead Eugene, just getting further on more instinct than a normal person ought to. I've always thought those things either made her kind of unbelievable as a character, or else... pointed to something weird being up with her.

And come on. A woman named Gwen living near the Rift where an identical woman named Gwyneth died via supernatural means? Sure, Who-verse reuses actors, but they had the presence of mind to make Martha and the identical Adeola cousins, so of course they're not just going to let this one slip.

So. Gwen is somehow Gwyneth. Not killed, but somehow ... split and pulled through the Rift, or some such. This, I sort of want to come out via RP plot, and I've talked to Ten-mun who has some interesting ideas. I will be writing my Gwen as though she doesn't remember having been Gwyneth, so that if we do get someone who wants to play that character, there shouldn't be a conflict. But once the explanation sets in, depending, we might need to work something out. IF we ever get a Gwyneth. *g* And it it's even necessary that their stories mesh. I know AUs are allowed.


So, questions? Comments? Suggestions? It's possible I'm too excited about plot for my new girl. *g*
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