Torchwood Long Time Dead (13 page)

'I know it's going to take a while,' Cutler said.

His heart sank slightly. If Trent had called just to
let him know they were in for a long haul, then he
could have done without it. He
knew
that. 'Just do
what you can.'

'Oh no,' Trent said, surprised. 'We've got
something. I wouldn't be bloody calling before
eight in the morning if I hadn't. I'd be at home,
in bed. Or at least having whatever slop they're
serving for breakfast in the canteen here.'

'What have you got?' Cutler said.

'Hair. There were hairs from the same person
on two of the victims. One was dark and the other
was a slightly lighter colour but they're both from
the same person.'

'Did you get a DNA match from it? Have we got
anything on the system?'

'Ah,' said Dr Trent. 'This is where it gets
interesting.'

And she was right. It did.

Suzie had been up early and got showered and
dressed, making sure to step around the mess in
her flat. She'd clean it -
him -
up later, but there
wasn't any hurry. It wasn't as if he was going
anywhere. And she had the spare room to sleep
in, if the urge to rest took hold.

Commander Jackson had a meeting at eight

off-site and she took the chance to dig around
his computer. She ran an attack on his password
and was in within minutes. It was time to find
out exactly what had been going on during her
recent trip into the nothingness of death. She
didn't bother looking at the files regarding the
excavation. She knew what was going in there -

retrieval of alien artefacts and devices. That much
was clear. Where they were all headed, she wasn't
sure, and she found that she didn't much care. Not
this morning, anyway. She didn't have long, and
her primary objective was to satisfy her curiosity
about the rest of the Torchwood team. She needed
to know if there was anyone out on the streets of
Cardiff that was going to recognise her face.

Within twenty minutes she was absorbed.

Toshiko and Owen were both dead, within minutes
of each other from what she could see. Her mouth
twisted into a sour smile. Poor little Toshiko Sato,
got to die with the man she wanted, even if she was
the only woman he'd never shown any interest in
getting into bed. She dug deeper, lost in the files
on the 456. How the mighty fell, she mused, as
she browsed the documents. So the government
had ordered the destruction of Torchwood and the
assassination of the team in order to cover up its
own deal with the aliens. Torchwood, like anyone
else, was expendable. A small twinge of anger
surprised her. So Toshiko and Owen and all those
who had gone before them had died for nothing.

She
had died for nothing. You gave your soul when
you joined Torchwood, and this was how they'd
been repaid. Jack had been blown up and buried
in a concrete grave, rescued by his ever faithful -

and soon to be dead himself she noted from his file

- Ianto and her own replacement, Gwen Cooper.

It irked her that Gwen was still alive out there
somewhere. She would have to be the one that
had bloody survived, wouldn't she? Perfect Gwen
Cooper, everyone's favourite.

Her eyes fell on the conclusion of the 456 saga
and her smile spread. Well, well, well, the great
Captain Jack Harkness had sacrificed his own
grandchild to save the world. She bet that hurt.

His pride as much as his heart. Being a child-killer wouldn't sit well with his reputation or his
own inflated opinion of himself. Bitterness rose
like bile in her chest. She'd shot him. She'd killed
him. It was just sod's law that Jack couldn't die.

He probably saw it as some kind of noble burden
he had to bear instead of a gift.

'Do you want kids one day, Suzie?' Jack leans back

in his chair and studies her, thoughtfully. He's very

handsome, she'll give him that. Her skin tingles

when he looks at her. She'll never sleep with him

though. She knows that, on some level. Captain

Jack Harkness likes Suzie, but he'll never love her.

She's not special enough.

Doesn't really fit with our line of work,' she

smiles, deflecting him. 'Long hours chasing aliens

followed by,' she lifted her beer,
a
couple of hours

winding down. Not really designed for being home

in time for bath and bedtime stories.'

You'd make a great mum,'he says. He's sipping

water. She wonders if he'd find her more attractive

if he had a beer or two. She'd like to sleep with

him. She's thought about it. It would be different to

being in bed with Owen, that much was certain.

I don't come from good parenting stock.' The

sentence is out before she realises that it's more

than a thought, and her shoulders tense. Her life

is her private business. One day she'll make sure

she gets even with her dad, but for now there is no

need to share. She doesn't need anyone's sympathy.

'Anyway,' she says, 'Torchwood is my family now.'

She smiles, but he remains thoughtful.

You're good at this job, you know,' he says.

'Better than most I've seen, and trust me, I've seen

a few. But,' he leans forward, resting his arms on

his knees, 'you need to have more than just the job.

You need a life. Something to keep you grounded.'

'Why?' she asks. 'So when I die some poor sod

will be left wondering what's happened to me as all

my possessions get carted off and stored in boxes in

one of those lock-ups? Like we did for Ben Brown V

She shakes her head. 'It's not for me. Anyway,

you're not so different. What do you have outside

of the job? You don't have a family. You spend all

night in the Hub, or standing on top of it staring at

the stars and thinking about God knows what.'

His face darkens slightly and she wonders if

she's touched a nerve. She knows so little - they

all know so little - about the handsome American

that they follow into danger at the drop of a hat.

Torchwood. She loves it. She really does. It's given

her life purpose. Until that incident with the alien

computer virus that downloaded into her work

mainframe, she'd simply drifted. She could have

drifted into the Rift itself for all she cared. She'd

felt like nothing. She'd believed she was nothing.

Technical genius she might have been - able to get

into any system presented to her, but she was as

dead as the machines she managed.

'Torchwood saved me,' she says softly. She

doesn't look at him as she speaks, but down at her

beer bottle where her fingers are pulling the label

free. 'It brought me back to life. This is the best job

I've ever had.'

She remembers the sheer thrill of that first alien

encounter. Feeling that something was wrong in

the system even though no one would believe her,

seeing Jack and sweet Ben Brown, now in cold

storage, investigate it and knowing, just knowing,

that there was something special about them.

That they were people she belonged with. People

that didn't fit inside the world just like she didn't.

She was the one who realised when the virus

downloaded into her boss. It was she that had

captured it. If it wasn't for her, her old boss would

have been dead, and not pleasantly too. At least

he couldn't remember his agony. Sometimes, when

she remembers what a smug, smarmy bastard he

was, she wishes he could have just a little part of

his memory back. But hey, you couldn't win them

all, and her clear thinking had got her a better

job.

I don't need any more than this, Jack,' she

squeezes his knee. I really don't.' He leans forward

and kisses her gently on the cheek. 'One day you

will, Suzie Costello. One day we all need something

more than this.'

He sounds so sad and she wonders if he's as

damaged as she is underneath all that easy charm

and the bright smile. She almost asks, and then

decides against it.

'Shall we go back to work?' she says. I'm sure I

can smell Weevil.'

He laughs suddenly and she can't help but join

in. She loves this. She really does.

Logged out of Commander Jackson's computer,
Suzie sat back in her chair, surprised to find how
much she was trembling. They hadn't cared about
her. They'd bloody
killed
her. How could reading
about them have affected her so much? It was a
good thing that they were all gone. Torchwood
on her tail was something she really didn't need;
she had a history of coming off badly against her
erstwhile colleagues. Still, she thought, taking a
deep breath and steadying her nerves, sometimes
you couldn't fight the memories - the good as well
as the bad. Gunshots echoed in her memory. Her
shooting Jack. Jack shooting her. Her shooting
herself. She could safely say that things hadn't
ended well for her and Torchwood - they'd turned
out to be a family that hated her as much as her
own one had.

She smiled. She'd had the last laugh with her
father and she was having it again with Torchwood.

Jack and Gwen were on the run and the others
were dead and here was she, once again back from
the dead. She checked her watch. The Commander
would be back at any moment and she needed
some fresh air. Time to have a little dig around for
any new files on herself - she'd destroyed all the
early ones but there was bound to be a new one
with basic information after her last visit - and
then to fetch lunch like a good little girl.

'Both hairs come from the same person,' Cutler
said, trying to keep his focus on Commander
Jackson rather than his gorgeous new assistant.

And she
was
gorgeous, there was no denying that.

She had eyes you could drown in and they were
focused on him. Was it his imagination or did she
feel the same sudden rush of chemistry that he
did?

'So, you've found the killer?'

'Not exactly.' Cutler shook his head, turning
his attention back to her boss. 'You may have to
do that. When our forensics people ran the DNA
through the system all they got back was that
the result was classified. Even the commissioner
couldn't get a result when he tried this morning.

Whoever this is, it looks more like one of yours
than a civilian.'

'Well, that would fit in with the missing suit,'

the woman cut in. She was well spoken with no hint
of an obvious accent. She smiled and Cutler was
sure there was a slight tease in it. 'To be honest,
did you expect anything different? I'm sure ever
since the Department declared an interest, you've
been pretty sure that any evidence would lead you
here.' She held out a slim hand. 'I'm Sue Costa,
by the way. The Commander's new liaison. I look
somewhat less obvious than a soldier, we hope.'

'Tom Cutler. And yes, you do.' Somewhere in
the background noise, Cutler was aware that the
Commander was apologising for not introducing
them and saying something about not being used
to having an assistant that wasn't an invisible
corporal or squaddie, but he wasn't listening. Sue
Costa's hand was smooth and her skin cool, and it
looked like if he licked it, she would taste of honey
made from some exotic pollen. His heart thumped
as they looked at each other. There was something
about, her - something that drew him in, just-like the site drew him in. Something scratched
momentarily against the inside of his skull,
something dark and troubling. She squeezed his
palm as if she felt it too.