Again, spoilers for Torchwood season 2. Skip to next chapter if you want (can't think of any serious plot developments you'll miss)

—

The process before the post-mortem is strange. I tie my hair back and secure it under a cap, then wash my hands thoroughly and secure my ring on the chain of my necklace. The moment I return to the infirmary, Owen offers out a lab coat for me to put on. He looks up to the turquoise bonnet that covers my hair, smirking. "You're prepared."

I notice the absence of his and counter, "You're not."

"Trust me, I've done enough of these to know what's needed or not. Come on, Inara, let your hair down, why don't you?"

"Honestly, Dr Harper. If I were your superior, you'd be in a lot of trouble."

"Oh, I'm counting on it." My glare pierces into him. He only takes it as more fuel for his flirtation, chuckling to himself as he pulls over the trolley of surgical tools. He continues with an air of arrogance I know so well, "See, I did a little research after meeting you. In all those names of former Heads of Institute, yours didn't crop up. Why is that?"

I head over to the trolley and pull on a pair of clear plastic gloves, tossing him a pair. "Like I said, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He puts his on without breaking eye contact, releasing the glove with a snap against his wrist. His eyebrows raise once in a challenge. "Try me."

"You really wouldn't."

"I'm open to anything."

"Not this," I try, biting back a grin.

"Come on, Nara."

"Fine," I huff with fake indignance, putting a stop to his nagging. "I became Head of Torchwood Institute in a parallel universe. You were on my team of senior medical staff. We had a thing. And it's Inara."

The corners of his lips twitch upwards again. "Guess things don't change," he comments.

"Guess they don't."

He starts to unzip the white body bag on the table between us. "See, I thought it might be something like that. I may not remember all my exes, but I certainly know how to spot them." Looking back up, he winks and adds, "You've all got the same look: murderous... but still totally into me."

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you there."

"Um, Owen?"

We both look up. Standing at the top of the walkway stairs is Tosh, now in a dark purple dress, a beaded necklace hanging to her navel. She no longer hides behind her glasses but has her fringe low over her eyes to make up for it. Owen's attention slips from the conversation when he sees her. "Woohoo. Look at you."

A timid smile brightens her features. "Do you like it?"

"Drop-dead gorgeous, Tosh — and I think I speak with some authority."

Her face falls but she quickly regains her light-hearted demeanour. "I don't really get a chance to dress up much. What are you wearing?"

Returning to the task at hand, he polishes of a pair of forceps with intent precision as he says, "The truth is, Tosh, weddings have never really been me, either. Love 'em and leave 'em. That was me. I'm sure Miss Luscinia can attest to that."

Meeting her gaze, I roll my eyes and gesture for her to try again with a tilt of my head in his direction. "Owen, you should come. Could be fun."

"Have you ever seen a dead man dance?"

"I've seen Fred Astaire in Easter Parade. Twice." At his bemused look, she loses her confidence and mumbles, "Late night TV."

"God, you need a date, don't you? Which this isn't, is it?"

She sighs. "No, Owen, it isn't. I just want you to come to the wedding. Please."

It only takes a moment, as he feels the both of us watching him, mercilessly scrubbing off a scalpel. He rolls his eyes. "Oh, all right. I'll dig out my dancing shoes."

I wait until she's out of earshot before letting out a quiet snort of laughter.

He throws down his cloth with an indignant huff and gets to work, scrutinising the body — still with the appearance of a young human man, but with red eyes and black veins around his mouth, throat and chest. "What's so funny?"

"I'm assuming she's a current crush, not an ex? Not nearly 'murderous' enough."

"She's not anything, just a colleague," he tiredly snaps.

I hum in sarcastic agreement and take the forceps, leaning over to get a look at the creature's mouth. It takes a few attempts to open its mouth. Grimacing at the rotten stench clinging to it, I open it wider to examine its giant fangs. "Oh, aren't you beautiful?" I murmur. "Now, are you going to tell me what exactly all those comments were — 'dead man' and all that?"

In the middle of examining the creature's yellowed talons, its hand clasped in his own and mere inches from his face, he looks back up at me. "Pretty self-explanatory." I'm still confused so he snaps, "Well, I'm dead, aren't I?"

"That's impossible," I chuckle, returning to my investigation. It takes me a moment waiting for his reply until it sinks in. "Oh my Gods, are you actually? How are you still upright?"

"Resurrection — nasty business. Backfired a bit and, well, here I am. What, have I ruined the appeal?"

I grimace. "Wasn't much to begin with, mate. I'm engaged."

Only now does he notice the golden ring hanging from my neck. He sighs in acceptance. "Who's the lucky guy... or girl, I don't discriminate."

"His name's the Doctor," I reply with a wistful smile. "And before you say it: yes, that is his name. It's best not to ask."

But he simply laughs, shaking his head. "Just my luck, isn't it? You're all in the same club."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Jack brings up some 'Doctor' guy, turns out to be his best friend's fiancé. Don't tell me you know Martha, too?"

I freeze, surprised. "You know Martha? When was she here?"

With a dramatic groan, he stands up straight, stretching out a cramp from being hunched over a corpse for too long. "Who d'you think patched me up?"

—

"Jack!"

Startled by our sudden appearance, Ianto quickly moves away from where he sits. He clears his throat and points to something on a wedding catalogue. "Yeah, brilliant. Like that one."

Owen is already well aware of what was really going on but feigns obliviousness. "We've got a problem."

They follow us back to the infirmary where I retrieve a metal dish. He pulls out the contents and holds it up for our friends to see — a black organ protruded with thick arteries and veins, roughly the size of a Human heart. It comes away from the metal with strings of dark slime, squelching in his grasp. "Look what our friend was hiding."

"And that is?"

"A proteus gland — the shape-shifting organ of a Nostrovite."

None the wiser, Ianto looks back down at it with his nose wrinkled in disgust. "And what is that, exactly?"

"Trouble," I answer, watching Owen struggle to drop it back into the dish without it sticking to him.

"Big trouble," Jack corrects.

He leaves. We follow, hurriedly shedding out gloves and washing our hands thoroughly as if it may reduce the stench of the infirmary. Jack's office is a much better place to resume the conversation. "A Nostrovite is a shape-shifting carnivore with a taste for human flesh," he explains, refastening the sleeve cuffs of his button-down shirt. "It's intelligent and sneaky and— Damn it, I should have seen this before."

Owen grimaces. "That's it with shape-shifters, innit? You never know what you're looking at."

"What's the big deal? It's dead."

He shrugs, mocking Ianto's lack of care. "Yeah, this one is."

His head raises, eyes meeting his in alarm. "Does there have to be more?"

"Oh, dear, sweet Ianto," I can't help but tease, "when is anything as simple as that?"

"Nostrovites mate for life. You know, like swans and penguins."

Letting Ianto help him into his trench coat, Jack jokes, "Yeah, except you won't find Nostrovites on greeting cards."

He sighs, eager to continue the explanation. "Right, and then the male Nostrovite carries the fertilised eggs in a sac in its mouth and passes it on to a host with a bite."

"Gwen."

"And where does the mother come in?"

I grimace. "See, that's when it gets less fascinating and more... concerning. The mother can sense the offspring, she can sniff out the host. Then she tears them apart to get to it."

Jack doesn't seem surprised in the slightest. "That's Nostrovite childbirth," he says. "And momma's out there right now, looking for Gwen. Come on."

——————

Standing by the water tower, we await the team's SUV. It speeds into the shoulder in front of us and Ianto looks anxiously out at us through the window. Jack checks the Vortex Manipulator on his wrist. "Tosh isn't responding."

"Then let's get going."

He glances behind me to where Owen loads the equipment into the back of the vehicle. "You sure you're up for this, Owen? You know Nostrovites. You think you got it covered a hundred feet away and it's chewing on your liver."

Unbothered by the graphic idea, he fixes his boss with a matter-of-fact look. "I don't need my liver. You need me, Jack."

I hurry to help him, aware of the bandages keeping two of his right fingers together. The duffel bag is still a little open and the sunlight catches on a metal device within. Jack's voice rises with panic at the sight of it. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. The singularity scalpel? Where are you going with that?"

He quickly zips up the bag and pushes it out of sight. "We need to get to Gwen before the Nostrovite does, we might not have a chance to get back to the Hub and the microtron weighs about two tonnes," he snaps.

"What's that you're talking about?" I apprehensively inquire.

From the front seat, Ianto watches the exchange. "That thing is bad news, dangerous on a good day. Obliterates pretty much anything but what you're aiming at. And need I remind you, Owen, that thing kills people?"

"I saved Martha with it."

"Lucky shot."

Cutting in, I look back to the hidden device with new caution. "Okay, how much of a risk is it, and do we have anything else?"

He gestures triumphantly to me and cries, "Thank you, Inara! Now, listen you two, you'd better start trusting me, okay? I've been working on it and I reckon I've got it sussed. Like she said, we don't have too many options."

"Exactly," I enthusiastically agree. "If it's a tiny likelihood of success or none at all, I say we take that chance."

"They've got a point."

Jack turns on Ianto in indignance. "What is it with you? Ever since Owen died, all you ever do is agree with him."

"I was brought up never to speak ill of the dead. Even if they still do most of the talking for themselves."

His gaze darts back over to the back as he gets into the passenger seat. His lips form a hard line. "Okay, Owen. But you better be sure you know what you're doing."

——————

The SUV speeds down the motorway. Horns honk after us and cars ahead swerve to get out of the way, alerted by the blue lights flashing atop the roof. I anxiously peek out of the window, looking for the country hotel around the nearby hills. "How long until we get there?"

"A few minutes."

We swerve again. Still, Jack appears to be far less worried about this than the rest of us — but I know him, I recognise the frantic drumming of his fingers against his knee, the tension holding his body. "What I don't understand is if people are going to make such a big deal about getting married, why come all the way out into the middle of nowhere, where no one can find you, to do it?"

I roll my eyes and lean across the back seat to get a look at the singularity scalpel which Owen hunches over with determined intent. It is small, just a single handle rounding out with a screen on the top, a little adjusting knob protruding from one side. "It's intimate," I wearily reply.

"You sure about that, Nara? 'Cause that, to me, suggests inner conflict."

My disapproving glare meets his in the rear view mirror. "Does it? I mean, the Doctor and I aren't even setting a date, we're just doing it whenever it feels right. And maybe that's in some secluded spot away from civilisation. What, is there some 'inner conflict' there?"

He pouts, pretending to think it over. "Could be. I mean, you've hardly spoken a word about him."

"Maybe because I'm a bit preoccupied trying to save the life of your—"

"Well, if anyone asks, I think it's because the happy couple want everything to be perfect," Ianto indignantly interrupts.

Our argument ends with one last look. Owen clears his throat awkwardly. "An alien egg in your belly and its mother coming to rip you open. Yeah... perfect."

—

We pull up on the gravel drive outside the hotel, barely waiting for the SUV to stop before we're out and sprinting up the steps. The attendant at the front desk rushes to stop us from approaching the set of closed double doors just off from the main foyer and we flash her our ID badges. Owen consults a tiny screen he keeps in his pocket. "That mother'll be attacking any second."

"Well, I guess we gotta do this the old fashioned way," Jack mutters. "Wish me luck."

Taking a deep breath, he shoves the doors open with all his might and runs into the hall, yelling for the ceremony to stop. Gwen and Rhys are already at the altar, their hands joined.

This is something he must do alone. I hurry after Owen and Ianto, taking the attendant's terrified directions towards the rooms. The second we enter the corridor of sunset stone, we take out our guns and proceed with caution.

Beckoning us after him, Ianto holds up his mobile. "I've got a fix on Tosh's comms," he says, nodding towards one of the doors. I take the lead. Preparing myself and flexing my finger against the trigger, I listen for a moment before directing a strong kick into the door. It crashes open.

There is no clear threat in the room, no creature ready to tear us apart. On the four-poster bed to our left, we find Tosh and an unfamiliar man bound together in a web of thick, black material. The room stinks of blood and something else quite vile. "Tosh, are you okay?"

"Just get me out of here!"

The blond leans his head further over her shoulder, the two of them stuck right up against each other in an awkward tangle. "All right, mate? I'm Banana."

She rolls her eyes. "More like a gooseberry."

"Um... should take a look at this."

Following Ianto's quiet words, Owen and I look around to the other side of the bed. A body lies on the floor. The upper half is that of a human man, but the lower half is just a mangled mess of flesh and sinew. There is enough blood to soak through the champagne carpet around it.

We both grimace. "Oh, Jesus, that's disgusting."

I sigh heavily and kneel beside the half-corpse. "I've seen a lot of things in my life but this? This is bordering on disturbing. Tosh, was this the Nostrovite?"

Instead of words, I am answered by a shrill scream. One of the guests stands in the doorway, her horrified stare fixed on the scene before her. Just as we think she has finished, the next bout of screaming comes.

Owen groans, "Just what we needed."

I raise my hands and slowly stand. "Just calm down, all right? We're here to investigate the—"

But she turns and runs out of the room. Barely a moment later, Jack enters, followed closely by the not-so-happy couple. "Ianto, after the girl. I need this contained."

Rhys takes one look at the body before returning to his bride's side, resting a protective hand on her arm. "Oh, God. I want Gwen out of here now, Jack!"

"Jack," Tosh says as she shakily climbs off the webbed bed, "I've seen the shape-shifter. It's a woman. She's in black."

He starts to respond but a message on our comms earpieces cuts him off. "Jack, I'm afraid the situation is uncontained."

He huffs, "Okay, Ianto. Get to the SUV, jam the phone lines. The last thing we need is someone calling the police. Tosh, Nara, you're with me, we'll find that woman in black. Gwen, Owen needs to operate now."

"I want Gwen safe, Jack, now."

"I want her safe, too, Rhys. So we do what I say!"

She gives his hand a light pat in the hopes of offering him some reassurance. "Rhys, Jack knows what he's doing, darling. Okay?"

"Look, if we run, the Nostrovite will be waiting for us. And we're running out of time."

Nodding shortly, Gwen eyes our weapons. "What's the plan, Jack?"

Owen holds up his duffel bag and grimly says, "I've got an idea."

"Then I'm staying here, okay?"

He hasn't the patience to argue with Rhys. "Fine. Ladies, with me."

—

The guests mill about in the hall, their chatter spilling out into the foyer. Jack strides in, Tosh and I following behind. "I need everyone to stay calm and do exactly as I tell you."

"Who the hell are you?" an older man retorts with a thick South Welsh accent.

"Torchwood."

Another, wearing the same red and gold waistcoat as Rhys and the man before, turns to us in shock. "Gwen's Torchwood? You mean, you're real?"

Tosh hurries past me, pointing urgently with her gun at one of the guests. "Jack, there she is!"

"Everybody down!"

The woman in black rounds on us. Her young face contorts, her eyes flashing red and black-stained fangs protruding from her gaping mouth. The three of us fire round after round at her but she doesn't feel a thing. With an angry hiss, she turns on her heel and jumps out of the nearest window.

I hurry after her and vault myself out through the broken panes. She is fast, already halfway across the lawn. By the time the others have caught up and we engage in the chase, she is gone.

Stepping warily into the lush gardens, we keep our guns ready. Low flowerbeds soon raise into hedges that tower over us, forming a thin passageway through which we must pass, only to find ourselves back on the lawn.

She is nowhere to be seen.

"Damn, that thing's fast!" Jack pants.

"But it won't have gone far."

"Not without the thing it came for. Come on."

Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, I join them in the weary trudge back towards the hotel. "Maybe we can bait her, lure her out into the open?"

He is quick to shut down the suggestion, "There's only one thing that'll lure her out and there's no damn chance, you got that?"

"I know," I sigh. "But it's not like we have a lot of options left."

My earpiece buzzes with the sound of Owen's voice. "Jack, everything okay?"

"It got away. How's the patient?" he asks.

"Rhys and his mum are with her."

My initial comfort fades when I realise what Tosh is staring at. Through one of the walled garden's stone arches, two women stand together in idle conversation, one in vibrant green. "Jack! That's Rhys's mum there."

Panicked, we break into a sprint, jostling past guests in a bid for the bridal suite. The door bursts open and our guns immediately aim at the woman in green stood before us. "Get back, you ugly bitch!" Jack bellows.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? That's my mother!"

"No. It's the alien."

The woman shrieks out in indignance, "I'm not an alien!"

"Oh, you're good, I'll give you that."

Assured that there are enough weapons to stop her if she moves, I take to Gwen's side and resume my protective position. "But I'm not!" she protests again.

Jack scoffs, "Yeah, and the Lone Ranger didn't have a thing with Tonto."

Still clutching her bouquet of reds and greens to her rounded stomach, Gwen sniffs. "Does the shape-shifter copy smells, too?"

"No, just physical," Owen