Daughter of Torchwood

Wedding Crisis

August 2007

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of Mavis's kitchen, catching the steam rising from a frying pan. Starla was halfway through a celebratory shuffle to a pop song on the radio, her movements light and fluid. It was the beginning of the summer holidays, five glorious weeks in Cardiff ahead of her, and today, Gwen Cooper was finally getting married.

"Don't you go breaking a leg now," a familiar voice teased over the music.

Starla spun around, grinning, as Jack walked into the room. He looked relaxed, though he still moved with that restless energy. He dropped his phone onto the wooden table with a hollow clatter.

She plated up two hearty breakfasts, the smell of sizzling bacon filling the small space. She tucked a third plate into the microwave for Mavis, who was still upstairs, and sat down opposite her father. For a few minutes, the Hub and its flashing monitors didn't exist. It was just a father and daughter sharing a meal in a quiet terrace house, a rare slice of normal before the madness of a wedding began.

Eventually, Mavis joined them, her presence grounding the room in a way Jack never quite could. The conversation drifted through easy, unimportant things until the washing up began. Jack was halfway up the stairs when his phone began to chirp on the table.

"Answer it, Star!" he yelled over his shoulder, his footsteps heavy on the carpet, "I gotta pee!"

Starla laughed, drying her hands on a tea towel before picking up the device. Gwen's name flashed on the caller ID. Given the occasion, Starla didn't hesitate to lean into the joke.

"Morning, Gwen!" she said cheerfully, her voice bright with the morning's leftover energy, "Don't tell me... you've got cold feet and need us to stage a tactical extraction?"

But the silence on the other end lasted a second too long. When Gwen finally spoke, her voice was strained, bordering on panicked. As the details of the problem began to spill out, something about a rapid change and a situation that was definitely not cold feet, Starla's smile vanished.

Her posture shifted instantly from a teenager on holiday to a member of Torchwood. The drying towel dropped to the counter, forgotten.

"I'll ring Owen and tell him to meet you there," Starla said, her voice dropping into a serious, focused clip. The domestic peace of Mavis's kitchen was gone, replaced by the familiar cold hum of a crisis: "Dad and I will be right behind him. Just stay put, Gwen."

------

The heavy thud of the front door echoed through the flat as Jack and Starla hurried inside. They found the bedroom doorway, framing a scene that was both clinical and absurd. Owen was leaning over Gwen's bed, snatching his stethoscope away from a belly that was now impossibly, perfectly round.

"How are you doing, Gwen?" Jack asked, his voice a mix of genuine concern and his usual morbid curiosity.

Gwen looked up, her eyes wide and panicked, "Jack, will you tell me what's going on? Owen says I'm pregnant."

Jack couldn't help it; a short, sharp laugh escaped him as he gestured to the massive bump straining against her clothes, "Oh, you think?"

"Jesus Christ!" Gwen hissed, her voice cracking, "What with?"

"It's an exobiological insemination," Owen explained, his tone clipped and professional as he packed his kit, "That alien last night. The bite."

"Oh, get off!" Gwen shoved Owen's hand away, surging to her feet with a grace that shouldn't have been possible given her new centre of gravity. She brushed past Jack and Starla, heading for the kitchen, "It bit me, Jack. That's all it did."