A Christmas Carol - Torchwood
Part 1: Safe and Normal
Gwen Cooper was decorating a Christmas tree, worrying about where to best put each ornament. This sentence, in and off itself, was neither surprising - it was the 24th of December after all - nor was it particularly note-worthy. Or it would not have been, where it not for the fact that Gwen Cooper, a woman that had dealt with world-eating creatures, child-controlling extraterrestrials and humanity’s mortality, was worrying over Christmas ornaments, of all things. Normally, you would assume that the woman who handled aliens near daily would have no need to worry about something like that. And there is the key word.
Normally. There was nothing normalabout Gwen’s job, about Torchwood. But still she clung to normalcy like a safety blanket. A normal husband, a normal home, a perfectly normal Christmas with a perfectly ordinary tree and perfectly un-alien presents for their perfectly normal daughter’s perfectly normal life. But what was normal even, when a call from your boss over the holidays didn’t mean underpaid overtime in the office but chasing potentially homicidal aliens through the streets of Cardiff or stopping the end of the world (again)? No, Christmas would be spent doing what normal people do, worrying not over the fate of the world or potential alien threads but over dinner turkeys and the perfect placement of garish ornaments in a chopped down fir tree.
All this reasoning however, did nothing to make the task any more interesting. There was just something about worrying over something as inane as Christmas ornament placing that seemed, after all the great and terrifying her work had confronted her with, downright silly. Gwen had half a mind to admit defeat, just throw the coloured glass balls and brightly colored figurines on random branches and call Jack about rift activity. But no, that would completely defeat the purpose. Besides, she really didn’t want to have another argument with Rhys about her running off with Jack all the time. She loved her husband, she really did (Why did that sound like she was trying to convince someone?) but he had never been the most supportive when it came to her job. Not that she could fault him for that. Torchwood had turned her life upside down on more than one occasion (Anwen being one of them, though she would never give up her baby daughter for anything in the world) and was, plainly speaking, all the thrill and danger of an adventure but without the treasure at the end of it. Or an end, at that. With a sigh, she forced her mind away from her crazy, wild job and her (admittedly handsome and charming but no less crazy, wild) boss and back on the issue of where to put the madl grinning ceramic snowman.
Sleep came difficultly that evening. The plentiful fights with Rhys were weighing on her and yet, at the same time, she was supremely bored. Not that Gwen was ready to admit to that. Admit that she had been going stir crazy in that little cottage at the end of the world, far away from… everything, really, with nothing better to do than raise Anwen, garden and avoid fighting with Rhys. She would never admit to it outloud but Jack’s return and their subsequent jet-setting adventure for the return of human mortality had been the first time she had felt alive in a long while. With a sigh, Gwen turned over in the empty bed - Rhys had taken to stay in the guestroom because of how restless Gwen’s sleep was - and tried to go to sleep. Whoever had coined the phrase of something being boring enough to “put you to sleep” didn’t know true boredom, she thought.
Part 2: Missed Opportunities and Chances Not Taken
That night, a cold gust of wind woke Gwen. But that simply could not be. She never, ever left the windows open at night. She knew better than that. Sitting up in bed, had she been anyone else she might have screamed. But Gwen had seen and experienced much weirder things than this. Probably. Actually, maybe not. Still, screaming would have helped no-one and likely only made everything harder, so nothing was lost from keeping silent for the moment.
For on the edge of her bed sat a girl that looked exactly like herself. Or a Victorian version of herself, in a black and white servant’s dress complete with a frilly lace cap. There were also chains draped loosely around her with little locks at the ends. Seeing Gwen awake, the doppelganger - who was ghostly semi-translucent - got up from the edge of the bed to stand at its foot.
“Who are you?” Gwen asked.
“I am you. Or maybe you are me would be a better way to put it. We are the same yet different, children of the rift. Genetically we are one and the same, no more different from each other than two coins minted from the same template in the same charge on the same material. All that differentiates us is the time we live in.”
“You’re a ghost. Of me. From another time. Am I getting this right?” Incredulous was maybe the right word to describe Gwen’s current state of mind.
The ghost nodded. “My name is Gwyneth.”
“Whatever are you doing in my bedroom, in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve? Also, why the chains?”
Gwyneth sighed. “I am here to warn you, Gwen Cooper, of not making my mistakes. This chain I wear is of my own forging, though unknowingly done. My life was short and not much happened in it. From childhood on I had but one great gift, I could sense that which was not of this world. Ghosts and memories and little habits, they were all apparent to me through no action but being in someone’s presence. That which was other, which was alien made itself apparent to me in visions and premonitions.”
At first, the word alien startled Gwen, before she realised the Victorian didn’t mean the extra-terrestrial but merely the unknown and unfamiliar. If Gwyneth noticed her reaction, she gave no sign of it.
“But I chose to turn away from it. Loss marked my childhood and between orphanhood and the society I lived in, I was reliant on goodwill and conformity. In my hopes for stability, for a normal life, I threw away the opportunities life presented me, squandered chances before I could truly recognise their import. My chains are missed opportunities and chances not taken, the regrets of a short, mostly uneventful life. There was a man I fancied, a butcher’s assistant, that came by the mortuary regularly, but I never said a word. What life could I have lived, had I had the courage to speak to him more than necessity demanded? If I had disregarded propriety just long enough to tell him what I felt? What adventure could life have been, had I dared take a risk? Who knows, I might have yet lived longer had I had someone to confide in about the hauntings...” Gwyneth trailed off.
“A butcher’s assistant doesn’t exactly sound all that adventurous of a prospect” Gwen couldn’t help herself “nor all that well-versed in handling haunted mortuaries” She grinned a bit.
Gwyneth laughed. “There is much I have learned since my death and one of those things is that people might surprise you. This butcher’s boy, that I never truly talked to, was neither a butcher’s boy nor human, but an immortal time traveller investigating the very same curious occurrences that led me to my death with all the gentleness of a cherished friend.” She sobered up quickly at that. “You can yet change the course of your life, Gwen Cooper. Don’t let what people may think determine what path you tread. Nor let what is conceived as “normal” press you into a mould you have long outgrown. Do not make my mistakes, Gwen Cooper, it is not yet too late.”
And with those words still ringing in the room, the ghost of Gwyneth was gone, leaving Gwen confused and alone in her bed.
She let herself fall back into the pillows, hoping to fall asleep, to wake up in the morning and find it was nothing but a dream - though there was part of her, the same part that loved Torchwood and Jack and all the craziness that came with either, that neither believed that, nor really wanted to.
Part 3: Those Who Try May Fail (but that is no reason not to try at all)
It could not have been long that Gwen had slept after the impromptu visit by a ghost. What woke her this time was nothing so subtle as a gust of wind but rather a screeching noise that no thing would ever make if properly handled. Rather it sounded like the sound a motorbike might make if being spurred to full acceleration while the brake was still pulled, if the engine and brake were nails against a chalkboard set up in a great metal cavern. Really, even without the light sleep Torchwood had brought her, there was no way Gwen could have slept through that.
And so she was sitting up in bed for the second time this night as a tall, slender man with the most ridiculously floppy hair stepped out of a blue police call box that had miraculously appeared in her bedroom.
“Hello!” Floppy-hair (was this the Doctor? Torchwood files - and Jack - did mention a time-and-space-ship disguised as blue telephone box) exclaimed jovially.
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve?” Gwen had to ask someone, yet again.
“I’m the Doctor.” That at least answered that question. “As for your question. Doing a very special favour for a very special friend, you could say. Or maybe even two friends. Though one of them doesn’t know I’m here and is not actually involved in the making of this idea. A long story. And quite boring. Now come along, we’ve got places to be, things to see.”
A startled “what?” was all that Gwen had the chance to get out as the Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her out of bed and into the telephone box. That was, true to myth, bigger on the inside.
Before she could regain her bearings, the Doctor was dancing in a tangle of limbs around the console in the middle of the vaguely circular room and the screeching noise could be heard again, though muted now. When the noise had stopped, the Doctor turned to her.
“Alright, two rules. Rule number one: Don’t leave the Tardis. Rule number two: Don’t get involved.” He grinned. “Now let’s see where we’ve landed.”
Arms flailing about wildly, he maneuvered her in front of a window or viewing screen of some sort that turned from an opaque nebula of muted colours to a scene that was eerily familiar, though of course Gwen had never experienced it in third person view before.
Little Gwen - she couldn’t have been more than five maybe, or six - was playing in the snow in her grandparents’ backyard. It was Christmas Day and she was spending her time outside while her grandpa and her mum were finishing up dinner before her grandma and dad would get back from church. She eyed the frozen pond in the corner. It would be fun skating on it, even if it was very small and she wasn’t wearing skates. With the reckless trust inherent to children, Gwen stepped on the ice and started to shuffle across it. She made it almost to the middle of the pond, joyous laughter ringing out in the air, when the ice cracked and she fell into the cold water. The shock alone was enough to make her cry, though the cold and wet didn’t help. The pond wasn’t deep, the water barely reached her chest and she knew every part of the ground from playing in it in the summer, but right now, fallen through the ice, cold and wet and surprised, it was the scariest thing imaginable. Scrambling to get out, Gwen grabbed the edge of the ice to pull herself out but the edge was sharp and cold and it hurt.
At her screaming her mother came running out. Finding her daughter standing in the pond, her mouth drew into a stern line. She called out to her father who pulled the girl out of the water and set her on the ground. Once they were back in the house and Gwen put in dry clothes, her mother told her in no uncertain terms that what she had done was stupid and to never do something like it again.
In the Tardis, adult Gwen was staring out the view port (or whatever it was) at the half-forgotten Christmas Day from so long ago. Her mother had not been wrong, of course, when she had told Gwen not to do something like that again. It was dangerous. But explaining that to a five year old was a bit more difficult than a harsh “That was stupid. Don’t do it again” could encompass. Her grandpa had later tried to explain it to her, that her mother had just been scared and wasn’t too good at dealing with being scared but the damage had been done. That was the first time Gwen learned to play it safe. It wouldn’t be the last.
“Oh. That was fun!” The Doctor, Gwen found, had a very strange idea of fun. “Where to next? Let’s see.”
The screeching noise, more flailing limbs - was the Doctor physically incapable of coordinating more than two limbs at once? - and then the view port cleared again, revealing a new scene from Gwen’s life.
Gwen was older now, somewhere around 18, and lounging around in her room, talking with a friend on the phone. Not something her mother would usually allow, but since it was Christmas Day and it kept Gwen out from underfoot, she’d let it slide. Except what her mother didn’t know was that Gwen wasn’t exactly talking to a friend but rather her boyfriend of a few weeks. Not that they would get past a few weeks, now that she was aware of Lisa. Lisa, who wasn’t in fact her boyfriend’s beloved little sister but rather his other girlfriend. Then again, Gwen wasn’t sure why exactly she had expected something different. Kyle was charming and handsome, sure but he was also a flirt with little to no room-reading ability or consideration and a jerk who had far too rarely heard the word “no” in his life. Gwen had initially gone out with him because she knew he would make her mother angry and because he was interesting and because he was different from what she knew. He was new and exciting and dangerous (or at least as dangerous as an average teenager from a normal middle class family could imagine, which basically meant he drove a motorbike and wore mostly black and leather). Why had she ever thought this could work out? She was an idiot for believing he’d change for her. Now that left her with a broken heart on Christmas Day.
Adult Gwen turned away from the view port. She knew what came next. She would cry and she would go to her mother for consolation (she loved her dad, sometimes more than her mum, but going to him for heartbreak and advice about boys was out of the question) and her mother would turn up her nose and tell her that that boy had been no good for her and good riddance and I told you so and Why did you even bother?. And Gwen would run up to her room, hide herself away in a mountain of blankets and cry until her mother would demand she put herself together and attend Christmas Dinner being at the very least presentable.
“Well… this was a bummer. Surely we have something better to watch…” The Doctor prattled on. “I’m rather working against the point right now, aren’t I… Now, I’m sure we can find something better…”
Screech, woosh, the view port cleared again.
This time, the scene was familiar, it was relatively recent, less than half a decade past.
Gwen watched her old self get ready for Christmas with both her own and Rhys’ parents and she remembered that, while she was happy to see her dad, she was not looking forward to dealing with her mother or her boyfriend’s mother, let alone both of them, together, in the same room. At best it would be boring and scornfilled at worst… Well at worst it would be a complete disaster. Past-Gwen was just about to put on her dress when her phone rang. Present-Gwen watched with a sort of morbid curiosity as her past self answered the call, watched her face morph from annoyed to elated, watched past-Gwen grab a pair of trousers and a shirt instead of the impractical dress and run out with barely a word to Rhys in her excitement.
She can recall this day with almost perfect clarity. The first time of many Torchwood had stolen her away from arduous family celebrations and boring evenings. Even now remembering dealing with the alien of the day made her smile. It had been exhilarating, made even more so by the knowledge that if she was still with her old job, she would have been dealing with her snob of a mother and trying to mediate between her and Rhys’ mother.
“Ha! I knew I could do it. There’s a good one. See, you tried something and it was great! Personally, I don’t understand why you stopped.” The Doctor said.
She didn’t tell him that later that night, she’d had a fight with Rhys about her weird, demanding schedule and her disappearing and her secrecy. She didn’t tell him how awful she had felt for leaving Rhys behind on Christmas. Neither did she tell him how she had thought almost idly that Jack wouldn’t have fought with her, that Jack would have understood. Nor how positively wretched she felt afterwards for even thinking that when Rhys had never been anything but good to her.
But maybe the Doctor had sensed something of it anyways because he turned off the view port and spoke with an earnest solemnity she would not have expected.
“Those who try may fail. But that’s no reason not to try at all. If you do not try the unusual, the new, the outlandish, you’ll never get anywhere. You’ll stay in places, stagnating, never evolving, never growing. Error is a part of life. Not a nice part, certainly, but not one you can avoid. Trust me, I try.”
He sighed. Then he grinned and returned to his jovial tone from before.
“Now, it seems like our time is up and I should get you back home.”
Disoriented by the rapid mood swing, Gwen only realised what he’d said, when he had pushed her out of the Tardis and into her own bedroom.
Still reeling from - whatever this had been, really, Gwen got back into bed, wondering if now she might get to sleep until morning.
Part 4: Normal Is Boring (and that doesn’t make you a bad person)
The second time the wheezing screech sounded through Gwen’s bedroom was no less jarring than the first. Absent-mindedly, she wondered how Rhys managed to sleep through it. The Tardis was back and once again a man exited into her bedroom so casually as if he owned the place. This one was old; his hair silver and his face lined with groves of a life lived to the fullest extremes of agony and elation. The expression on this face was a near-frown that looked to be engraved on it from habituality. It gave the man a look of constant unhappiness while not still excluding discontent. And what was up with those eyebrows?
When the man saw her, his face lightened up somewhat.
“Ah, there we are, Earth, Cardiff, December 2012. Is it the 24th?” he asked.
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve?” Gwen was starting to feel like a broken record.
“I’ll take that as a yes then” Eyebrows (potentially the Doctor, again?) said. “As for why I’m here, to keep a promise I made to someone very special, I told you that before, do keep up.” He held open the Tardis’ door. “Are you coming? I do have other things to do after this.”
With a sigh, Gwen got into the Tardis and off they were.
The screech faded and the view screen - window - whatever it was - cleared on a scene. This, however, wasn’t an event from her past. If it was, it certainly wouldn’t feature Rex and Doctor Juarez. The two were sitting on a sofa by a garishly decorated christmas tree, drinking wine - at least Doctor Juarez did - while laughing about something.
“Ah right, forgot something” the Doctor mumbled behind her and suddenly, there was sound to the picture before her.
“So… what do you think this stuff is actually for?” Rex asked Vera. The doctor shrugged.
“I don’t know. I suppose you could ask Jack about that.” She passed a small glass ball filled with what looked like pixie dust back to Rex.
“Or” Rex suggested “we could just try and see what happens” He winked at her. “Jack said it was harmless enough”
Vera rolled her eyes. “You want to try out some undefined alien artefact, just to see what happens, with nothing more than an immortal’s assurance that it is ‘harmless enough’?” She shook her head in fond aggravation. “Oh why am I asking, of course you do.”
Rex laughed. “You know me so well. But hey, if it helps, I’m immortal now too, remember?”
“Hard to forget.” Her words were dry but her eyes betrayed her mirth and the sheer joy of a fulfilling life.
“Alright, that should be enough. Time to move along”
The Doctor’s voice pulled Gwen away from watching her co-workers’ - her friends’ happiness. They didn’t seem to have a problem with their lives being far from normal. They actually seemed comfortable with it. More comfortable than Gwen had ever allowed herself to be with it, certainly.
Woosh, screech and a new scene revealed itself.
Esther stretched out on her sofa, a glass of wine in one hand and a Charysian Neuro-link - at least that was what Jack had called it - in the other. The alien device was fascinating. It was a bit like a computer, only it linked directly to the mind and allowed for far faster and more precise actions than any computer she had ever heard of. Right now it was projecting images of a far away planet into her living room and into her mind.
Esther smiled. Torchwood was certainly different - even compared to working for the CIA - but she loved it. She wouldn't change it for the world.
Gwen smiled at the picture before her. Esther seemed so happy, so comfortable in her skin and her new position. The American's life wasn't normal anymore - far from it - but it didn't seem to bother her.
"One last stop, then we're done" The Doctor said.
Woosh, screech and once more the screen cleared.
Jack sat at his desk in the rebuilt Hub - the details of how that had happened Gwen didn't still know. Also, did that man ever go home? - with a tumbler of whisky.
Before him on the desk were three pictures. The one on the left showed the old team - Owen and Tosh and Ianto and Gwen and Jack himself - on Christmas years ago, the one on the right showed the new team - Esther, Vera, Rex, Jack and Gwen - together at the newly rebuilt Hub.
A soft smile on his lips, Jack reached out to touch the middle one, so gently as if he feared it might turn into mist at his contact.
"Blessed Samtsirhc, my love. May all your days be merry and bright. And may you get everything you set your heart on. That is my wish for you."
The middle picture, to Gwen's great surprise, was of her. She couldn't pinpoint when or where it was made, but she looked happy in it, carefree. In the picture she was wearing her usual work clothes. And yet she looked happier than in any of the pictures Rhys had of her.
Gwen wasn't sure what to make of this scene. Jack was alone on Christmas and his thoughts were on her. He wished for happiness for her. Maybe… just maybe he felt something for her too. Something real, something lasting.
You’re not the only one who met somebody that knocked their world out of kilter.
The memory came unbidden. It hadn't even truly been Jack who said that. And yet, Jack had often said things that had made her wonder.
"What's Samtsirhc?" She asked the Doctor.
"The closest thing Raksha has to Christmas. It's even on the same day. You get together with your family, celebrate the bonds you have. It's traditional to wish for something for the person you love the most."
Gwen watched the scene before her, of Jack alone on Christmas and wishing for her happiness. Then something else registered. Was Jack an alien?
"Raksha, is that a planet?"
"Yes. Closest to Gallifrey. Now, our time is up. Let's get you back home."
Moments later, Gwen was back in her bed. Would she finally get to sleep til morning?
Part 5: Tomorrow Is Promised To No-one
The next time Gwen woke it wasn't to the Tardis' screech but to a soft hand on her shoulder. On the edge of her bed sat a young woman with brown hair up in a ponytail.
"Who -" she began but the woman already answered.
"I'm Clara. I'm here to show you something. Come along."
And again, Gwen found herself in a Tardis - although this one looked very different from the last two.
A whoosh and the large view screen window thing cleared to show Gwen… Herself. But old.
"What is this, a Christmas Carol ?" Gwen asked.
Clara laughed. "Something like that. Now watch."
Old Gwen was sitting in a chair, looking at nothing in particular. A picture of an adult Anwen was on the table next to her. The phone rang but Gwen didn't answer it. The answering machine picked it up.
"Hey mum. I know you said not to bother - more than once - but I really wish you'd at least pick up the phone. At least on Christmas." The voice sighed. "Anyways, I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. Until next year, I suppose."
Present Day Gwen watched on as future Gwen spent Christmas alone. Sitting in a chair, hating the world.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"This is your future if you change nothing. The first Doctor that visited you showed you your past, when you were still willing to take a risk. The second Doctor that visited you showed you that for all your friends, "normal" is not necessary to happiness. Now I have shown you the lonely misery and boredom that awaits you as reward for your "normal" life." Clara sighed. "Trust me, I know all about missed chances, about regrets. I have more than enough to go around." She shook her head and looked at Gwen with the solemnity that came from nothing but age and experience. It was the same kind of look Jack occasionally had when he was particularly tired of life.
"Do not let the story of your life be made up of missed opportunities and chances not taken, of hurdles avoided and bridges never crossed. Live your life not in what is safe and normal, for that is not living. Live life in its fullest, like everyday might be your last. Because Tomorrow is promised to no-one. And you never know when your story will end." Clara smiled sadly. "Now I'll take you home and when morning comes, there is a choice you must make."
As she said, Clara took Gwen home and left. And while Gwen was still a little confused, she understood what Clara had said. (Knowing this was basically her own alien version of Dickens' Christmas Carol helped)
This time, Gwen knew the next time she woke, morning would have come.
Part 6: A New Day (and it’s waiting for me)
Gwen woke to sunlight. A look at the clock on her bedside table confirmed it was the morning of Christmas Day. She took a deep breath. What would come next would be hard and unpleasant but it was necessary. Long overdue, really. Normal wasn't cutting it for her. Hadn't been enough for a long time. Why had she been clinging onto it for so long?
She sighed, got up, got dressed. No more procrastination. Time to face the music.
"Rhys, can we talk?"
Gwen wasn't exactly sure, what exactly she said to her husband (soon to be ex-husband) after that. She knew she admitted she was unhappy, that she liked her job - loved it, really - even while he hated it. That she hated how he implied that she would with her job endanger Anwen. That she hated how he acted about Jack when her boss hadn't made a move on her since she made it clear she was with Rhys (she might have left the kiss that woke him from death years ago out of that argument). She remembered Rhys had been angry. She remembered saying that their relationship had fractured and broken long ago and they were just now admitting to it. And when it was all in the open and they had - more or less mutually and amiably - agreed to get a divorce. The question of Anwen had been wisely kept out of it so far. They would have that fight (and it would probably get bad) but not now. In the end, Gwen left to give Rhys some time to think.
Her feet carried her to the Hub without Gwen giving it any active thought.
"Gwen? What are you doing here?" Jack asked when he saw her. "Shouldn't you be home with your family? It's Christmas, after all."
Gwen shook her head. "I broke up with Rhys."
Without either of them saying any more, Jack came over to her and hugged her. She smiled sadly and hugged back. Jack was wonderful like that. He picked up on this stuff without you even knowing.
They sat down and they talked and Jack told her stories of his time on other planets and she smiled and laughed and it was honest and real and so different from yesterday.
And when evening came, Gwen finally admitted what she had denied even to herself for years.
"Jack, I know you're my boss but I really have to say this." She took a deep breath. No more missed chances. She had been lying to herself about this long enough. "I love you"
Jack looked at her like she had just revealed she knew the cure to every disease ever. Or like she had just turned water into wine. "Are you sure?"
She raised an eyebrow and glared at him. "Does this sound like a joke?"
He shook his head. Then he leaned in and at first Gwen thought he would kiss her but he didn't.
He just leaned his forehead against hers, bringing their faces close.
"I love you, too, Gwen Cooper. I have for a long time."
She smiled and he smiled back and for a long moment they just stayed like that.
Maybe this wasn't a horribly boring Christmas after all.