Hidden Depths.

Torchwood Ten, an organization dedictated to defending England against the future. Because the 21st Century is when it all changed.

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Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Thu Apr 23, 2009 4:37 pm

Derowen did not return. Anteros also vanished. If one can call the absence of an invisible spirit vanishing. Still, Brock was noted to be looking around the Hub for him, throwing things into the air and watching them crash to the ground a second later.

Brock worried more about Anteros than about Derowen, truth be told. Though he kept her secret, her hiding space. She would deal with the emotional fallout when she came back. Internally he shrugged each time someone muttered about it, the words becoming increasingly annoyed or worried as the days passed.

A week passed. Three more banks and jewelry shops were turned over in the passing of a second. It was as though their sacrifice had been for nothing by the second, and an insult by the third.

TAG - all for what you have been up to during the week.

Grace was unusually subdued too over the course of the days. She had worked hard on a project that resulted in a small bottle of pale pink liquid. She smiled in sheer glee when the last test she had for it worked well. And then whisked it away to remove the stubborn lipstick marks on her walls at home. Until that point, she had remained in the Hub. “Just in case” she said, meaning for when Derowen showed up again.

So she could shout at her for abandoning them, she meant.

Finally, the infection that had rampaged through Wen’s body from the bullet wound abated. She was able to sit up, then stand. Then slipped into her quarters at 2am one night, to clean up again. She threw the clothes she had been wearing into the incinerator chute, and let a grim smile cross her face when the slight rumble of the burners indicated they were gone. No evidence and all that. She grabbed some of the reports that were piling up by her private fax machine and vanished again.

On the morning of the seventh day, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Brock (who tucked it away for the irony), Grace woke in her room to the scent of fresh baking and coffee. She had come into the Hub after waking from another nightmare. Her throat sore from the screams that had woken her, she’d decided that leaving her flat was a smart move. Even with the strange picture gone from the wall, the image haunted her too much. She knew that she was safer at the Hub. And let’s face it, screams that echo through a soundproofed room wake nobody else.

She stumbled out into the main hub, blinking at the level of light in there and stopped as soon as she stepped through the doorway. In front of her, laid out neatly on a table, were fresh croissants, muffins, and arranged platters of fruit. And the other side of that, performing what looked like a solitary foxtrot, was Derowen.

“Morning Grace!” Called Wen, smiling as Anteros swung her through a complicated set of steps. Her skirts swung out from her hips, showing off her long legs and proving that she was dancing with someone, or something, even though there was nobody there.

"You're back... and you're bloody bonkers. But hey," Grace pounced on a muffin, "what's new."

A moment or two later, the door opened again. Punkin eased through it and stopped. Her face showed a mixture of anger, concern, love and bewilderment as Wen was dipped suddenly. Wen burst into laughter, clutching at Anteros. She grinned at Punkin and called out “Hello Gorgeous!” to the woman standing by the doorway.

"Where the hell have you been? And thanks for the compliment." Replied Punkin. "Who's your imaginary playmate?"

“Tell you later.” Promised Wen. “To both. In the meantime, be a love would you both? Get the rest of the gang here with overnight bags. We’re needed Mrs Peel.”

TAG - Punkin
TAG - Grace


“I’m on it Derowen.” Said Brocks cultured tones from the shadows near his desk. “Calling everyone in now.”

TAG - The rest of the gang - your pagers are going off, with the simple words. “Torchwood. Code 28” Go and check the text codes thread for what it means.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby brawl » Thu Apr 23, 2009 4:57 pm

A week ago...

Tim Carlyle woke up not knowing where he was. There was a time that was common, but he had been away from that demon for some time. He groaned and sat up. He realized his face itched, and as he scratched he realized why. He had grown a full beard, and a long one at that. He rubbed his eyes and realized he was sitting outside in a park of some sort. He stood and yawned. Water. He needed water.

He looked down at himself. He was covered in dried mud, especially below the knee. He checked his pockets and grinned. Phone and wallet were still present. Thank all that was good in the world.

He pulled his phone out and pressed the power key. The Blackberry was dark for a few tense moments before finally turning on. Battery was low, but the sucker was working. He looked at the date and muttered a curse.

"A full damn week later?" he growled. "Must have been the damn rift." He dialed the Hub's number. "Brock? Hey, it's Tim. Yeah, I'm alive man. Don't know what happened. Yeah, I'm fine. Need a ride though. I don't have a damn clue where I am. Can you trace my phone? Thanks. Oh, and can you bring me a fresh pair of jeans and stop at the Arches, grab me a Double Quarter Pounder, fries and chocolate shake? Thanks man." He hung up and sighed. Time to face the wrath of the TW folks for his MIA act. He just wished he had more answers.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Quin » Thu Apr 23, 2009 5:42 pm

Quin had spent a lot of time puzzling over the various robberies, checking modus operandi and trying to find any links to any of the various gangs that he knew. He came to the conclusion that the London underworld was as puzzled as Torchwood.

He also managed to smooth things over with Lucy. The fake news item about a massive power failure in a leading supermarket's warehouse had helped a lot. His various bumps and bruises he'd explained by telling her that he'd fallen off a ladder in the darkened storage area. He hated deceiving her but it was necessary. No way could she know what he really did.

He was spending some 'quality time' with her when his pager went off. He was convinced that Brock had placed a hidden camera somewhere in his apartment. He always called at the most awkward moment he possibly could.

He sat on the edge of the bed and checked the message. Lucy came up behind him and grabbed him round the waist leaning her head on his shoulder.

"What's code 28?" She asked. "And where is Torchwood?"

"Bakery malfunction at our Torchwood branch," Quin replied. Damn there was nothing else for it she would have to be retconned.

"I've got to go in," he said.

Lucy pouted. "I took time off work specially," she said. "I thought we were spending the day in bed."

Quin smiled. "I'll make it up to you, how about a weekend away at the end of the month?" he said. "I've just got time to make you a nice cup of tea before I go. Have a look on line and find a nice hotel somewhere."

He was pulling on his clothes as he spoke.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Foxy » Fri Apr 24, 2009 2:16 pm

Despite Grace being stood there in front of him, Brock's text came over her Blackberry anyway, triggering the Avengers theme.

“Oh for goodness' sakes,” she complained, fumbling in her dressing gown pocket for it.

Brock gave an apologetic shrug, “It's quicker to send to the group,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, whatever,” grumbled Grace glancing at the screen. “28? You're calling a 28?” She glared at Derowen. “There's a bloody 28 and you're dancing?”

TAG – Wen

Grace shook her head. She was surrounded by nutters, plain and simple.

“Anyone wants me, I'll be in the shower, then getting kitted.” She turned to leave, then paused, grabbed another muffin and stomped back to her room.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Sun Apr 26, 2009 8:37 am

Brock closed his phone with a decided click. Tim.. finally Tim had shown up. He shook his head. Time had stolen the ex-UNIT soldier a while ago. He couldn't remember exactly which distortion had taken Tim.

Derowen would be delighted to know. When he told her. Or better yet..

Brock picked up his phone and called Quin.

"Can you swing by Macyuk first and pick up a double quarter pounder, chips and a chocolate shake?" He asked. "Then head over to Battersea Power Station to pick up Tim? Seems the Rift finally spat him out again and he's near station B."

TAG - Quin

"Oh, one more thing? Let him know gently about Eric and Fred would you? Might also want to warn him about Punkin. "

He put the phone down, and noticed an odd little shape flitting across the screens.

Leaning back in his chair, Brock couldn't wait to see Wen's face as one of her flock came home to roost.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Sun Apr 26, 2009 8:48 am

Anteros spun Derowen into an obvious Tango. She knew she looked odd as she dipped and swayed with the spirit who had attached himself to her. She simply didn't care.

"Of course I am dancing." she said as Anteros swung her into a tango to a hidden tune that only he could hear. "One should always dance when it's the end of the world."

She twirled to a stop and curtsied gracefully.

"Now, who's for coffee? It's organic, freshly ground. We have a lot of ground to cover before we head out of the city and I want to get started as soon as possible."

She poured a cup and brought it to Punkin, a smile lighting her face as she did. "Hello my dear. Miss me? I'll show you later why I had to be gone so long. Oh, did anyone go and erase my message on the wall?"

TAG- Grace
TAG - Punkin

TAG - the rest of you sleepyheads in the Hub quarters!! come out and plaaaayyy!! Wen made coffee and breakkie!
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Quin » Sun Apr 26, 2009 10:16 am

Brock closed his phone with a decided click. Tim.. finally Tim had shown up. He shook his head. Time had stolen the ex-UNIT soldier a while ago. He couldn't remember exactly which distortion had taken Tim.

Derowen would be delighted to know. When he told her. Or better yet..

Brock picked up his phone and called Quin.

"Can you swing by Macyuk first and pick up a double quarter pounder, chips and a chocolate shake?" He asked. "Then head over to Battersea Power Station to pick up Tim? Seems the Rift finally spat him out again and he's near station B."

Lucy had drunk her tea without protest. Quin felt horribly guilty but she was going to ask awkward questions otherwise. He was just sliding into the driver's seat of his car when Brock called.

"I hope that isn't for you," Quin joked as Brock gave the food order. "So Tim's back is he? That's good news."

"Oh, one more thing? Let him know gently about Eric and Fred would you? Might also want to warn him about Punkin. "

"I promise to be gentle with him," Quin agreed. "But do I have to warn him about Punkin? I'll just tell him we've got a new team member it'll be much more fun."

Quin headed for the nearest drive in MacD's and placed the order. He picked up a large coffee for himself, he'd been a little sleep deprived recently though Lucy was definitely worth losing sleep over. Next stop was to pick up Tim. Quin pulled in to the indicated pick up spot and looked around for Tim.
Tag Tim
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Re: Hidden Depths - JP with Rubin & Punkin

Postby KendleRJ » Mon Apr 27, 2009 11:18 am

**OOC - JP between RubIN and PunkIN - aka AJHoyt and KendleRJ - Thanks AJ!!**

Tom's Kitchen was bright and sunny and its little crowd of wood tables was surprisingly full for breakfast. That's probably why the waitress appeared to have no qualms about laying down a square wooden cutting board with golden and crispy beer battered Pollack and the biggest chips Rubin had seen. She rushed off to her other hungry guests before Rubin could speak.

Feeling natty in his navy blue sports jacket with all family crests carefully removed, light blue collared shirt and new jeans, Rubin inhaled the aroma of fried food deeply, his mouth watering, taste buds waking up. He resisted the urge to flip open the white serviette with little red strips and lay it across his lap.

The waitress came hurrying by, but her brown eyes tarried on his untouched meal. Rubin said, smiling, "I'd wanted to take this home with me as a gift to a friend."

"Oh! Yes you did! I'm so sorry, sir!" The waitress whisked the tray away and put her back to him in a flash. Very soon he was presented with a paper tray neatly wrapped in blue checkered paper instead of the usual newsprint.

He paid a whopping £19.50 for the fish & chips without complaint. He stepped out onto sunny Cale Street. He took a quick little hike and tube ride from Kensington back to the Hub, holding his package of great smelling fried food level the whole way.

He slipped into his room and carefully set the package on his dining room table. He unwrapped it, the paper crinkling. The aroma wafted out, still warm and savory.

Feeling motion, he saw a shadow, then caught Petra's scent, and finally Petra herself flopped in the chair at the dining table. She wore very little besides an old robe of his, FAR too short for her long legginess and a scarf which adorned her head loosely and held her red hair back. Her violet eyes were centered on the thick curls of golden battered fish, a look of complete concentration that reminded him of a famished cat.

"Ah!" he said softly. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked so very peaceful. Hungry?"

Petra's face screwed up in a smile and she opened her mouth gently, tongue swiping over her lips and then popping back in before she closed it once more. Her eyes moved swiftly from food to Rubin's blue eyes glinting with mischief, and then looked down at the spread once more. "Well, after that bit of exercise, I should think so."

Turning her attention to his meal, she said, "Are you sharing, then?"

Rubin, seated by then, grinned and slid over a knife and fork. "Yes, we've shared so much the last week anyway, even your flat above that cafe. Fish and chips is the least I can offer to share this morning."

Her beautiful eyes grew more violet as her pupils widened. She seized the fork and skewered a fat fish curl, unapologetically bringing it to her full lips. White teeth flashed as her lips parted and she bit off a biggish chunk.

"Hm. Thanks. Done just the way I like it; on YOUR plate." Holding the partially eaten fish, she held the rest out for him. "Bite?" she asked a little wickedly.

"Maybe one."

"Need me to guide it in?" Her smile grew all the more wicked.

He opened and she held the meaty morsel just where he could bite off a section. He chewed happily. "This is the best fish and chips we've had all week."

"And we've had rather a lot," she said before sticking the rest of the fish in her mouth and chewing rapidly.

"Part of our tour, remember?" Rubin smiled. Punkin certainly lived life large. He slid a paper coffee cup capped with plastic toward her. "Have this. A fine cafe can't possible serve bad coffee. We'll find some on our way to ... uh..." He frowned, not remembering which statues were on today's agenda.

"Don't be silly, Tiger," Punkin snagged a small sip and pushed the cup back at him. "If we're getting more on our way, I don't mind sharing." Savouring the taste she remembered something. "Although it might be a little less flavourful than YOU prefer." She sloshed the cup gently. "See," she indicated the swirling darkness, "It still moves."

He made a face at the cup as he pulled a much creased brochure out of his blazer pocket. "We'll find awful coffee along the way. We always have, so far."

He peered at the tourist map of London with large circles in ballpoint pen. "We've seen so many statues this week, what's left? Wanna see another naked man? You liked Theseus and the Minotaur at the V & A Museum. I think you even sang about him at that club last night, the Greenwode Cafe?"

"The GreenTREE, Rubin," Punkin corrected gently.

Placing the fish back down, she had to smile at Rubin's professionalism, even when they hadn't been called; a blazer? But that made it all the more fun watching that calm exterior dissolve slowly... "Naked men? Certainly, as long as this one isn't staring at something strange or unusual. We've seen a few of those."

Standing, she tried to lean over his shoulder to see what the next place they might be going was, placing her elbows upon each shoulder and reviewing their past visitations which he had mapped out with laser-like precision. But his smile DID seem a little easier, and there was actually colour on his face. Like from the SUN. "Did you not like it then?" Her voice was low, lilting in his ear and she held her cheek against his for a moment, before looking down at the brochure. "I mean, getting out into the world to SEE the people you actually helped to save?"

"Yes," he said distracted by her soft skin and moist breath washing over his ear, leaving the scent of fried fish and coffee. "It was easier with you. Some statues were creepy, like those weird mermen fondling a bucktoothed cow at Somerset House and that weird hairy Sophie Ryder devil at Canary Wharf." He shuddered, the motion made unexpectedly pleasant by her breasts pressing into his shoulders.

Her eyes travelled down slowly from the glossy paper, sliding teasingly to his lap and suddenly realized something a little surprising. "Holy sh*t, Rubin," Punkin said, "Are you wearing JEANS?"

Feeling his excitement rising at her closeness, he shrugged, his shoulders brushing against her. "Yeah. I was pressing my slacks between the mattress and box spring. I'm sure the workout we gave it has made perfect razor creases. But, you were still sleeping this morning and besides jeans go with a blazer, don't they? I'm trying 'casual', dontcha know?"

"Everything goes with jeans, Tiger," said Punkin sweetly, remembering with a gentle sigh this morning's mutual exercise regimen. "And nothing says casual quite like jeans. I'm very..." Looking for a word that wouldn't sound quite so patronizing, she settled on something warm and caring. "Glad. Suits you."

Leaning back gently so she could unhook one arm and reach out for another forkful of fried goodness, Punkin pushed forward further, capturing Rubin between chair and table. "Let's try some of these chips, now shall we?" And skewering one large, well done chip on the end of the fork, she dipped it in the salty vinegar goodness that only rock salt and malt vinegar can concoct and drew it towards her mouth.

Rubin watched her hanging deliciously out of her robe as she readied a bite, her face lit with simple anticipation.

"You're right," she whispered, leaning over and biting off a piece, "this IS the best fish and chips we've had so far. And for breakfast yet. It's inspired." Her lips grazed his cheek gently, smelling London's streets on him, and an air of... relaxation in his demeanour. Had this been the only thing he had gleaned from their time together, it would have been enough. "I should really get cleaned up... you're already dressed and I'm feeling... well, if we're getting out of the Hub, perhaps I should get ready to go?"

He pouted at her as she left the table, hips swinging wide from side to side like a model on the runway.

Walking by the door, Punkin smelled the disinct aroma of fresh coffee and cinnamon. "Rubin, not sure what's going on outside this door, but I smell something that would be simply brilliant with this." Tucking his robe back around her and loosely tying the belt, she ventured forth into the main area from Rubin's room. "Be right back..."

Closing the door gently behind her, she came upon a sight...

A duet of peeping arose, a single note over and over from Rubin's belt and a bright little melody from somewhere in the line of Punkin's clothes strewn from his main room into the bedroom.

Rubin pulled up his pager. He read off, "Torchwood. Code 28."

"28?" he said softly, looking blankly at the code, trying to remember. His eyes widened, "Oh god, Oh God, We're all going to die. Get in here, expect the worst."

Rubin felt his hair spike. His hand went habitually under his blazer to his left shoulder where he kept his snub-nosed .38 holstered. He touched only his light blue dress shirt. "Dang! My piece is in the armory," he breathed aloud.

Rubin went to his kitchenette, pulled a butcher knife from a drawer, took a breath, set his face and headed quickly out his door. He closed it firmly behind him. He peered around. Through a door into the main Hub he glimpsed Punkin. Wen looking like she was dancing. He heard Grace yelling just before she came stomping out of the door with a muffin crushed angrily in one hand.

Rubin stepped quickly up to the door holding the knife behind his back and peeked in cautiously.

~Tag Wood-winds, Woodies, Hub-bies... oh, garn, take yer pick!
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby KendleRJ » Mon Apr 27, 2009 7:28 pm

She poured a cup and brought it to Punkin, a smile lighting her face as she did. "Hello my dear. Miss me? I'll show you later why I had to be gone so long. Oh, did anyone go and erase my message on the wall?"

And there she was, Wen. Just as Punkin had remembered her; full of joy, and piss and vinegar and with an easy smile and manner about her that twisted her heart into a nice, neat little bow. "Hello, Wenny." Punkin twisted back, quietly and gently, reminding her of their time together before, and punctuating their prior uncomfortable time apart. "How long WERE you gone then?"

Eyes were remote, violet turning a deepening purple as the pain reached up from within and then pulled itself back through the hole in her heart. Petra Thomas knew EXACTLY how long it had been. Despite her wondrously full week, Wen's presence still wore on her, one that had been a steady constant throughout the past ten years. And she knew that it would have been a time for them at Tintagel, a time for them to enjoy each other and for Punkin to be... a distraction from this life.

But now, she was entrenched in it. There was no escaping Torchwood with Punkin anymore, and she was no longer an ignorant harbour in a storm. How many times had she been Retconned? How much of her life with Derowen MacFie been erased? How much more could she endure in the Hub with the lack of physical contact, lack of ANY indication of their prior intimacy? And a curious lack of speech about ANYthing?

Wen's little secret and Cornwall sanctuary seemed to have been destroyed. And Punkin knew. Felt it as everything unravelled and thoughts and focus were not... well were not even remotely concerned with her well-being. It was as if another living being resided within Derowen and was even now simply slumbering, waiting beneath for a time to slither out once more.

Taking the cup and their fingers brushing together, Punkin tried to stifle the shudder. It had been much easier when they weren't physically so close...

~Tag Wen
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Mon Apr 27, 2009 10:16 pm

It was raining. That grey drizzle that pervades everything hung in the air and wriggled it's way into all clothing. Even the most waterproof of parkas, cagoules or raincoats were not enough to prevent the steady invasion of damp. Particularly if one had been standing in the rain for as long as Police Constable Steve Martin had been.

Constable Martin stared at the odd shaped hole in the ground of the churchyard in Weston Partick again. Then around at the crowd of busybodies that was clustering the other side of the pathetic crime scene tape flapping away in the tiny breeze. He'd been told to wait until the appropriate department arrived. He hoped they bloody well arrived soon, so he could go back to the station and get to have that nice cuppa and the bacon sarnie waiting there.

Shifting his feet in the grey mid - morning, he squinted into the hole. He was sure that he's just seen something move deep in the ground. But decided it was nothing except his imagination and probably some kind of mist trailing across his vision.

He pulled his collar higher and tried for the umpteenth time to find a way to feel warm, that didn't involve overly warm squad rooms and tea. Mrs Barnes was staring at him again. She made him feel like an insect caught in a web sometimes. She as busy talking to Tricia Sheriton, with the gorgeous hair and no personality. Finally, Constable Martin spotted someone he could talk to, and stepped away from the tape to hail the man walking across the path.

"Doctor Gladstone?" he called, waving to the other. "Doctor! Wanted to ask you. Did anyone get hurt? Rum do this ain't it?

TAG - Nigel Gladstone
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Mon Apr 27, 2009 10:27 pm

"Hello, Wenny." Punkin twisted back, quietly and gently, reminding her of their time together before, and punctuating their prior uncomfortable time apart. "How long WERE you gone then?"

Derowen stopped. She leant in and sniffed the air around Punkin delicately. She smiled. If Punkin was expecting upset and such, she'd come to the wrong version of Derowen. The pheromones around the other woman spoke of recent sex. It was to be expected. And encouraged. Punkin's eyes widened in shock. It was.. an oddly uncomfortable moment.

"I was gone a week. Did nobody get my message? Oh dear. Does that mean I need to clean up the blood in the Rift Room? Just as well I heal quickly..."

"That's enough Wen." said Brock. He stepped to her and took her arm to lead her away. "Enough. Sit down, you're only just healed."

TAG - Punkin.

Derowen allowed herself to be positioned in one of the comfortable chairs and settled without much of a murmur. She did mutter that Nathan would be righteously pissed off at her for not telling. Then lightened up again suddenly, in an abrupt turn of mood.

"Come out Ruben!" she called, looking to where he was hidden. "The coffee is fresh, the tea is too. Come and enjoy before packing!"

TAG - Ruben.

As he stepped forward she suddenly burst into peals of delighted laughter. "God it's good to be alive!"

TAG - all



TAG - Ruben.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Tue Apr 28, 2009 8:03 am

(( Speaking for Tim, with permission from Brawl, who's disgustingly busy with exams))

Tim watched the sleek black SUV pull up with some gratitude. His ordeal in the Rift was beginning to tell on his body. He felt more tired than he had been since basic training. Whatever he had seen in the Rift nagged at the edge of his mind, running ragged fingernails around his memory. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he rememebered.

Maybe a good drink, or two, would help.

Quin opened the door for him as he made his way across the courtyard.

"Cheers." Tim said as soon as he could. He delved into the crumpled bag, eating as if it was the first food he's seen in an age.

"What's been going on? Did we find out what was causing those time distortions?" He asked, as Quin drove them to the Hub.

TAG - Quin
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby KendleRJ » Tue Apr 28, 2009 9:39 am

Derowen leaned over and SMELLED her. Punkin had never been ashamed of her escapades before, but the REACTION from Wen was impossibly difficult to read. Smelled her like a predator, and she shifted uncomfortably from the intrusion of a foreign creature rather than the woman that she loved. There was never anything territorial about her with Punkin - she was hoping for a small jibe, not an almost physical intrusion.

There was something WRONG. Something radically wrong...

"I was gone a week. Did nobody get my message? Oh dear. Does that mean I need to clean up the blood in the Rift Room? Just as well I heal quickly..."

"Blood in the Rift Room? Holy f*ck Wen, I haven't gone near the place since it was shut up tight." Brock's tender and knowing hands touched Her Wen and it was a physical pain that Punkin felt.

"That's enough Wen." said Brock. He stepped to her and took her arm to lead her away. "Enough. Sit down, you're only just healed."

"Healed? From what?" Turning her full ire on Brock who so obviously KNEW. "You knew? You KNEW!?!? And didn't feel the need to SHARE this little tidbit of information..." Her voice broke, reprimanding, loving, caring... Punkin was almost shattered. But this was neither the time nor the place to discuss this. Dirty laundry. Punkin had not seen Wen in almost 5 months and she got a brief kiss on the cheek, a hug of wondrous proportions, and then... NOTHING. She almost moved forward, ALMOST approached Wen to touch and reassure herself that she was all right, but the first reaction was disturbing and Punkin felt something she had never recalled: unwelcome.

There was no answer forthcoming; her presence seemed... superfluous. And somehow, so did the coffee - organic that suddenly tasted like floating dirt in her mouth. She swallowed it down and her overt emotional outburst went with it.

As Wen called Rubin out, she seemed giddy and strange. Punkin put the coffee cup down on the table like it was sh*t; it was SO much more than that... this was all BULLsh*t.

"Had breakfast, thanks," she said offhandedly and narrowed her eyes at Wen and then Brock. Speech didn't often elude her, so she simply turned and walked away. Punkin was torn by this turn of events, by being completely shut out by her friend. No matter what had transpired over the years, Wen could come and talk to Punkin about anything... and probably had. 'Ah,' she thought a little cruelly. 'I guess I'm no good to you now that you can't Retcon me as often. I would have to REMEMBER the dirty little secrets you shared with me.'

"If we're packing and going, I've got to get ready." Punkin said aloud, "Won't be half a mo'," and headed to Rubin's room. Not cockily, nor with malice, just simply as the place where her stuff was... she had never been embarrassed nor self-conscious about her sexual choices or her partners, and she was NOT about to start now. If there was something bad and they were going to die, then she'd had a good run, and wouldn't regret a thing. Grinning lopsidedly at Rubin's firm backside in his OBVIOUSLY new jeans, Punkin pulled her eyes away so she could concentrate on getting herself together for the next phase in Torchwood.

~Tag Any in the Hub
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Tue Apr 28, 2009 2:46 pm

Derowen glanced at Brock. She glared, then laughed again.

“I got thrown against the wall. Cracked a few tiles in there.” she said smoothly to cover the moment. “Got a bit hurt in the process. But we are all alive.”

It was so nice of you all to come and check She thought, but left that unsaid. She’d checked the locks on the door to the Rift Room and found that nobody had even tried to open it. Chalk that one up to the retcon.

“We don’t have much time before we have to be on the road. Have the others checked in yet?” she asked Brock, her voice still full of deep humour. Even though it was obvious that Punkin was unable to realise the deep joy that Derowen felt about the fact that they were still alive, she wasn’t about to let the young woman’s mood get in the way.

Brock nodded slightly. Change of topic. Right. moving right along. “Quin just picked up Tim at Battersea. They’ll be here soon. No word from Nathan yet.”

Derowen thought quickly. Nathan hadn’t really been himself since the Eye in The Sky had come together. The odd changes through the Hub only served to underscore how disconnected he had become.

“If he doesn’t surface by the time we have to be on the road, we leave him a message and give him the space he needs.” She decided.

For now, she was still going to enjoy simply being alive. That would be enough for now.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Quin » Tue Apr 28, 2009 6:14 pm

Tim watched the sleek black SUV pull up with some gratitude. His ordeal in the Rift was beginning to tell on his body. He felt more tired than he had been since basic training. Whatever he had seen in the Rift nagged at the edge of his mind, running ragged fingernails around his memory. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he rememebered.

Maybe a good drink, or two, would help.

Quin opened the door for him as he made his way across the courtyard.

"Cheers." Tim said as soon as he could. He delved into the crumpled bag, eating as if it was the first food he's seen in an age.

"What's been going on? Did we find out what was causing those time distortions?" He asked, as Quin drove them to the Hub.

Quin explained as best he could. Some things he left unsaid, others he gave a little more information about. Some things he couldn't quite remember, probably a side effect of concussion and the drunken wake in Rubin's room. It was an episode that all being equal he would rather forget.

He told Tim what had happened to Fred and Eric without going into too much detail and with an optimistic attitude that belied Quin's own deepest fears. He mentioned Punkin in passing, some things Tim could find out about on his own. The telling took just about as long as the journey to the Hub.

The second he walked through the door Quin knew that apart from the Code 28 things weren't quite right. There was definitely an atmosphere.

He nodded to Wen and Brock and studiously avoided smiling at the way that Rubin was dressed. Punkin had obviously had an influence there. He didn't see Grace and that was fine by him. They really hadn't been getting along and Quin had no idea why. Quin waved at where he thought Anteros might be and was rewarded by the slightest of breezes ruffling his hair.

"So," he said. "Prodigal son returned to the fold. Why did we get a code 28 and why does no one look too worried about it?"

He looked at Brock. "I have one very unhappy girlfriend," Quin continued. "You could have picked a better time to page me."
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Delta » Tue Apr 28, 2009 10:02 pm

Pulling his jacket closer to his thin frame, Nigel continued along the pathway, hoping none of the villagers crowded around the sad-looking crime scene tape had noticed him. He had no intention of being beset upon by this rabble, it was a weekday, and he should be at his practice.

Of course, his practice was the reason he was here. After a string of missed appointments this morning, he had finally emerged from his office, a furrowed brow forming above face as he asked his receptionist why, suddently, no one in the community was concerned enough about their medical condition to keep a scheduled appointment with their doctor.

He played the conversation back in his mind, remembering how the expressive features on the aged receptionist, Mrs Abbott, played across her face as she excited relayed her latest story. "Haven't you heard" she said, her fingers fumbling with the fake pearl necklace she wore, "of it, in the churchyard? Susie Henshaw says that it was just drunken teenagers, but I think it was treasure hunters, although Mr Horwood ..."

Placing a hand softly on her shoulder, he cut off the older woman, her voice falling silent. "Mrs Abbott," he inquired, "what actually is 'it'?"

"The hole" she gasped, her face contorting into a disbelieving stare. "I've heard it's at least 12, ... maybe 16 feet across, though no one quite knows how deep it actually is, but Mr Rose said that..." As Nigel reached for his coat, she stopped. "Where are you going?"

"To the churchyard, of course. If this hole is keeping my patients transfixed so fully, I think I should go there myself to see it." Truth be told, he wasn't complaining that his patients was crowded around a churchyard ditch, rather than visiting his practice, to have their unnecessary concerns releived. "No, Mr Davies, it's highly unlikely that you contracted bird flu, even if you think one of your chickens did 'cough' on you. Yes, Ms James, I think easing off the fish and chips would be a wonderful idea for a woman like you, after two coronary bypass surgeries."

At least the avian influenza would be exciting if someone contracted it. Most likely much more exciting than this 16 foot in diameter bottomless pit story Mrs Abbott had concocted.

Carefully weighing the pros and cons of getting a closer look at the pit, as contrasted with being mobbed by the villagers surrounding this geographic oddity, he selected the former option. Even still, he could see the pit close enough from the pathway. Expectedly, it was nowhere near as large as Mrs Abbott's exaggerated figures, appearing to be no more than six feet wide. This is a woman who believed she had a standing invitation for tea with the Queen Mum, god rest her soul. He hadn't exactly expected a fully accurate tale.

Folding his arms, and content that would be able to escape, he heard his voice being called out. So close. Turning to the direction of this sound, he saw the rain-soaked Constable walking towards him. Running a hand through his increasingly wet hair, he sighed. At least his schedule was clear, even if he must talk with the only small-town constable in the country who would consider an unexpected ditch to be a crime scene.

"Doctor Gladstone?" he called, waving to the other. "Doctor! Wanted to ask you. Did anyone get hurt? Rum do this ain't it?

Shaking his head, he waved back, as he walked towards the man. "No Constable, there haven't been any scraped knees or sprained ankles this morning, from people falling into the ditch."

Through the corner of his eye, he saw a sour-faced Tricia staring back from the crowd. Did I forget to call her back Sunday morning, he thought? This won't end well.

Turning his attention back to the constable, he was surprised to find the man shaking his head and frowning. "I don't think any man falling into that hole would be worried about a scrape or a sprain, doctor," the man solemnly said.

"Why, is it that shallow?" Nigel asked, chuckling to himself. "What was this, a sandbox?

"Doctor, you should take a look for yourself."

Perplexed, Nigel moved closer to the hole. Pulling the crime scene tape above his head, he moved closer to the hole, his mouth slightly agape as he finally stood at the edge of the mysterious creation, staring down into its dark abyss. Eyes wide open, he turned back to face the constable.

"I'd say that's a bit deeper than a sandbox."

TAG - Steve Martin, or just myself later, to continue the conversation
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby brawl » Wed Apr 29, 2009 1:15 pm

Tim sipped his coffee, nearly gagging, but it was hot and it was something more than... whatever. He had his bacon biscuit in hand, and was regarding his team carefully. What an odd bunch, and he wondered what had happened to each in his absence. Eric and Fred's absences were glaring, at least to him.

"So what the hell is going on folks? I need a shower and a shave. I smell like sh*t and want to smell nicer before we save the world again."
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby KendleRJ » Wed Apr 29, 2009 1:36 pm

The water felt perfectly steamy and pricklingly cleansing as Punkin dunked herself once more beneath the spraying shower head. Her thoughts travelled through many places, many things and many memories as she let the water course over her. Whatever that page was, Code 28, she needed to hurry and finish up with expediency and a great sense of practiced efficiency.

While turning off the flow, she pushed her hand out of the shower and reached for the towel on the rack. Sweeping it into the stall and around her, she then grabbed a guest towel and wrapped around her hair. Unhooking her newly steamed clothing, ones she hadn't worn since she had filled in as an Executive Assistant, but of course, nothing like what the others had seen from her already. It took about 10 minutes while she prepared, using the time to grab things she would need for their 'trip'.

Overnight bag packed with everything she imagined someone from Torchwood might need, she rolled her eyes and thought about the sidearm they had issued her. Good thing she had managed to get familiar with it during the week...

Giving herself the once over in Rubin's mirror, her look complete, she straightened her jacket, picked up the bag and emerged from Rubin's room. Gone was the Punkin Thomas of over a week ago; no more the short, tight skirts and flashy clothing. THIS Punkin was polished, professional and well put together. Of course, that was TODAY. A small pink and black piece of material peeked out from her packed belongings.

Her suit, navy pinstripe, hugged exactly where it needed to hug, and fell exactly where it needed to fall. She wore closed boots; if they were going anywhere outside, she would prefer wellies, which she had stowed in her bag. A trench coat, one she had scrimped and saved for and sent in special to Cornwall, was draped over her arm; everything else she had brought with her was stowed back in Rubin's room for the moment. She wore no blouse but a camisole; lacy where it needed to lace and opaque where it counted. Clinging satiny material highlighted every curve and did a damn fine job of only hinting at what might be lurking beneath.

Punkin's makeup was understated and sparse, accenting her natural beauty with offsetting tones that captured and focussed attention on her most arresting feature: her eyes. Hair, upswept and away from her face, she was every inch a professional woman with an edge.

Her empty gun holster rested on her left hip, and a Blackberry holster with her PDA on her right, made her feel a little like an old Western gunslinger. Although It still felt a little strange to be able to use the electronics, she couldn't be choosy when, after almost 20 years, it appeared that something was actually HELPING her channel that effect.

"Heading to the Armoury," Punkin said, voice sultry as she dropped the bag by the breakfast table and didn't wait for a reaction. They would get used to her and her whims... "Got to get my sidearm." She half-noticed someone new in the Hub, and he looked more like a transient than a member, but he seemed to know them all. Nodding at him, she extended her hand, "Hi, the name's Punkin Thomas and you are?" Voice was low and quiet, softly sensuous with no overt sense of promise. She met the newcomer's eyes easily and waited for a response.

~Tag Tim

After the introduction, Punkin briefly walked by Wen, Punkin's hand gently touched her shoulder and leaned over to brush her cheek with an easy kiss full of warmth and love. Whispering with a slight catch in her throat, Punkin said, "I DID miss you, sweetness. I'm glad you're alive too."

~Tag Wen and y'all in the Hub, bubs
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby AJHoyt » Wed Apr 29, 2009 9:47 pm

Rubin had moved into the room after Punkin had passed. At the table laden with fruit, pastry and hot drink urns, he used the butcher knife he'd grabbed when the Code 28 came in to impale a fat, squat, deep-brown mushroom of a muffin. He used the knife to bring the pastry up to his nose; banana bread, maybe zucchini. As he brought the pastry to his mouth on the knife, he assessed Wen. Nibbling, he wondered if he'd ever understand her; ever anticipate her moods or her needs.

He marveled at how well Brock seemed to sense her. Not that she followed his lead. But she seemed to change tack whenever he intervened.

Brock was catching Rubin's eye and nodding significantly at the food table.

Rubin frowned as he chewed at his skewered muffin. He looked at the table and then back at Brock.

Brock looked disappointed. "I thought you'd smell it. That glass carafe has coffee in it." He paused a moment, gazing at Rubin expectantly. When Rubin didn't respond, he said, "Coffee made two days ago." After a pause, he added, "Left on the burner continuously."

Rubin grinned. "Why didn't you say so!"

He went right over to the glass carafe. He held his impaled muffin to one side and poured a cup one-handed. It folded from the carafe into his cup like warm roofing tar. He brought the tarry substance up to his lips. His forehead wrinkled involuntarily. He grinned at Brock. "Perfect. Thank you for thinking of me."

Quin and a bedraggled Tim arrived by then. Almost immediately afterward, Punkin, looking gorgeous yet oddly professional, had drifted up to smooch and whisper to Wen.

Rubin stood by the food table, cup held near his chest, stabbed muffin near his lips. He asked Wen, "I agree with Quin. Code 28 is deadly serious. What's up, Chief?"

< tag Wen, anyone, and welcome back, Tim--and welcome to, well, you'll see, Nigel...
Rubin Hart - former Torchwood One field operative - now in service, Torchwood Ten
AJ Hoyt - Security, B5: Trinidad Station
Charles Cog - Astrophysicist - SG7

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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Quin » Thu Apr 30, 2009 7:24 am

Quin actually shuddered when Brock described the coffee that he'd made for Rubin.

"That stuff looks and smells like tar," he said. "I don't know what it does to your innards but I swear that glass is dissolving."

Quin helped himself to a plate of fruit and a glass of water. He never ate heavy food before a job. In his old line of work and in his new it was not a good idea to turn up with an over full stomach.

He nodded to Punkin, she was as gorgeous as ever but since the night he had spent with her and Rubin he didn't lust over her any more. If he hadn't been with Lucy he wouldn't say no to anything that Punkin wanted to do and he did have a slight feeling of jealousy that Rubin had spent the week with her. And of course there was someone else that Quin really fancied the pants off. Still he was a one woman at a time man and that was that.

"Where's the Queen of Snark?" Quin asked. "Drinking vinegar to sharpen her tongue?"

Gods he was being childish.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Thu Apr 30, 2009 10:20 am

Derowen heartily agreed with Tim. He needed to go and get clean. He looked like he'd been running for his life through knee high mud. His trousers and shirt were both ripped.

"I'll explain on the way TIm." She said. "Go and get yourself freshened up."

Tag - Tim

"oh.. the Hub sort of changed. Your rooms might be somewhere different. All still off the same hallway, but in a different order or some such." she called suddenly, as he opened the door to said quiet hall.

Once he had gone, she went through one of the abrupt turns of mood that unsettled so many. She pulled one of the keyboards towards her on it's pivoting arm and began to send a feed to the projector that shone onto the walls of the hub. Images began to appear on the tiles, showing why there were so many area's that were deliberately kept clear.

A beautiful small village.
An aerial photograph of the area, and another in remarkable detail of the hole in the churchyard of the small village. There were several of the crowds gathering around the hole. And finally, the reason why Torchwood had been requested.

The final two images were directly into the hole itself. the first was an IR image, showing lines moving away from the main hole itself, all glowing slightly as if hotter than the surrounding earth. The second a black and white, in which a strange shiny object could just be seen at the bottom of the hole.

Tag - all.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Quin » Thu Apr 30, 2009 11:03 am

"Looks like something out of War of the Worlds," Quin said. "I have a suspicion that Wen had a hand in the cover up following that radio broadcast in 1938. Poor old Orson Welles was definitely the scapegoat there. Must have needed a ton of retcon for that one."

He looked intently at the pictures. "Should all those people really be standing that close?"
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Foxy » Thu Apr 30, 2009 1:43 pm

Grace felt better after a shower and a chocolate muffin. Well, as better as could be sensibly expected. A large mug of Brock's finest English Breakfast Tea with a slug of the hair of the dog and she would be cooking on gas. Mug in hand, she came back in part way through a conversation.

"Where's the Queen of Snark?" Quin asked. "Drinking vinegar to sharpen her tongue?"

Tiptoeing up behind him, Grace tapped him on the shoulder, taking a childish delight as he jumped.

“Queen, eh?” she observed. “I can live with that...”

"So what the hell is going on folks?” asked Tim. “I need a shower and a shave. I smell like sh*t and want to smell nicer before we save the world again."

Grace chuckled. “Welcome back, Timbo. Actually Eau de Bacon Butty is perfectly acceptable in my book.” She took a long draught of tea, then spotted Punkin in her pinstripes.

“Blimey O'Reilly, Punkin. You got an interview?”

TAGGLES – Quin, Tim, Punkin

Derowen pulled up the display screen and Grace put her mug down, moving in to take a closer look.

“So... I'd better whack a torch and a webcam on an RC chopper. That'd get us an eyeball down there. Maybe IR as well...” She pulled a small notebook from a trouser pocket and started making a list. “Speaking of retcon, how far away is it? Can Auntie get that far?”

TAG – Wen, Brock
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby Tavey » Thu Apr 30, 2009 4:17 pm

Constable Steve Martin nodded eagerly.

"We tried to send a torch down on a bit of rope earlier. The rope came back frayed. No torch." He said, pointing at the coiled rope nearby.

"Got a bit of something gooey on the end of it though. Kept it in case that Torchwood wanted to see it."

From the almost comical look that crossed his face, it wa easy to see that he's said something he didn't want to."

"Still by the time they get here, we will be ready for a decent drink, won't we."

TAG - Nigel.
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Re: Hidden Depths.

Postby brawl » Thu Apr 30, 2009 5:00 pm

Tim gave the appropriate greetings to everyone, including a warm handshake to Punkin. When Wen cleared him to shower, he took off like he had a Weevil on his tail. He barely heard Wen's warning about the new room arrangements. Luckily his hadn't changed. He grinned. Grace probably didn't want to dismantle his PC set-up and move it elsewhere.

He stripped and turned the shower up as hot as he could stand. After emptying his pockets, he threw his soiled clothes down the incinerator. The stink would linger for years and he was better off cutting his losses. Thankfully he'd left his leather jacket in one of the cars, and it hung neatly in his closet, awaiting his return.

He stepped into the shower and virtually melted in the warmth. He stood under the running water, watching the caked mud melt and start to run down the drain. He noticed several small gashes on his legs, and they began to sting as the water rinsed over them.

"Sh*t," he growled. "What the f*ck happened to me?"
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