Risk Assessment - By James Goss Page 0,1

not like we need some flashy system to tell us we’re in trouble. We know that. But we’re handling it. And the bells and whistles – it’s all extra stress we don’t need.’ He shrugged, and tried out a low-voltage Harkness grin. ‘Don’t worry – it’s as outdated as Nana Mouskouri. If there was any danger, I’d let you know. Now – both of you – go home. Ianto – don’t tidy up. Just leave it. Gwen – see that man of yours, find out if he’s grown a beard. And get some rest. See you back here in the morning.’

He smiled. And the smile stuck like a greasy egg in an old frying pan.

Well, it was the next day now, and the world still hadn’t ended. It was raining heavily, one of those grey Cardiff days when the sun’s elsewhere. Gwen parked the car and stumped down into work, feeling the wind bite into her. She glanced nervously out to sea. She knew what was out there, and she knew how dangerous it was.

Rhys had sensed her mood and kept well back that morning. He’d been artificially bright, making tea and quiet conversation like they’d had an enormous row. She’d reached across and hugged him before she left for work. His face fell.

‘Gwen,’ he’d said. ‘You look so sad.’

And she’d nearly cried. ‘I know.’

She had to give him credit for being the sensitive husband while also guilt-tripping her into the middle of next week.

‘You won’t tell me what it’s about, will you?’ he’d said, eyes flicking away.

‘No. No, I won’t,’ she’d replied. ‘I’m too scared.’

She grabbed something hot and bacony from one of the shops in the Bay, smothering the white bread in ketchup. A little bit of cheap heaven on a wet morning in Cardiff. On an impulse, she nipped back into the shop and got two more bacon rolls. A little treat for the boys. The last few days had been so grim.

And with that, she walked into Torchwood.

Of course, had Gwen been looking in the other direction, she’d have seen something quite remarkable striding past Tesco. But no, she missed it completely.

With less than a quarter of an hour to go until something quite remarkable happened, the Hub looked as ordinary as a vast underground base could. A bit cold, a nip of damp in the air like a stately home, lights twinkling from workstations. Ianto was pottering around, making noise and coffee. Jack was prowling in his office. In the corner, Gwen could see the coffin. Jack had covered it with a big old velvet drape. It looked like Dracula’s tomb. Not helping, she thought.

She handed out the bacon rolls. They took them wordlessly. Ianto carefully, neatly unwrapped his. Jack just started tearing into his, savagely.

I wonder when he’s last eaten, she thought. And I know he says he doesn’t really sleep, but he looks like he could do with crawling under a duvet and staying there all weekend.

Weekend? God, what day was it? Gwen thought about this, and didn’t even have an answer. She was just so tired and miserable. The last week had been so stressful, living in a constant state of suspense, and too worried to even tell Rhys. She was shattered. They all were. How much longer would this go on for?

Jack and Ianto weren’t speaking, she noticed. They were tiptoeing round each other. Almost like . . . no, they had had a row. And that was another sign of how mad things were. Jack and Ianto never rowed. Shagged like rabbits, occasionally shot at each other, but never actual couple-y things like a row. Blimey. She toyed with ringing up Martha. For a chat, a pre-wedding gossip, something boring and normal.

Jack strode away towards his office, wiping the bacon fat off onto a fistful of naval charts. He started making angry little pencil scribbles in the margins.

Gwen gave Ianto a sympathetic glance.

‘He’s frightened, isn’t he?’

‘Aren’t you?’ Ianto was talking with his mouth full. Another sign of the end of the world.

‘I feel so helpless. All that work, and now we can’t really do anything. Except wait for the worst to happen.’

Ianto nodded. And then he leant over, confidentially. ‘We need a bit of a break, I think. There’s nothing we can really do, is there? I was wondering about bunking off.’

‘What?’ Gwen laughed, and then shushed herself like she was in a library. ‘Like nip up to the Red Dragon and watch a nice romantic comedy?’

‘Or bowling,’ considered Ianto.