Death Comes close

Based after cyberwoman sometime, but before countrycide.

Oh, don't know if Loran Street is a real street, I'm just using it. You know, fiction.

I don't own torchwood.

Almost Alien


Hilda Potts was a middle-aged woman of Loran Street in Cardiff. A Street where everyone kept to themselves. Hilda was just poking her head over the fence to next doors garden, noting the shabbiness of grass and plants, when, unusually, she heard a ear splitting scream coming from the owners house. Naturally her eyes found the house and, as she could just about see through the window, she looked into the living room window. Those living next door had only moved in a few weeks ago, but she knew the woman to be Susan something, who by the look of things through the window was pointing at something Hilda couldn't see with her mouth open, terrified.

Hilda considered phoning the police, but these days it took hours for them to even turn up. In the end curiosity got the better of her and she made her way round the house of number forty-two and knocked on their front door. There was no answer. At first.

She was just considering going back when the door opened and there stood a man in his early thirties – dark black hair, blue eyes, and very handsome. He smiled sweetly, "Hello neighbour."

"Hello, um, sorry to disturb you but I heard a scream and wondered if everything – everything is okay?" Hilda said quietly.

The man simply continued to smile, "Yes. Would you like a drink?"

Hilda frowned, "Sorry?"

"A drink. Perhaps tea, coffee, maybe lemonade?" he asked and she noticed he was English.

"Oh, um…" Hilda looked at the man, was something about him, he seemed incredibly kind. What a nice man, she thought to herself. "Yes, I'd love to."

The man smiled all the wider, "Then please come inside." Hilda smiled back and entered their home, which seemed a lot her own - tidy, homely, not at all like their garden. They went through to the kitchen, which again she could see it was well looked after. She was so busy looking around at their neat kitchen that she didn't see the man's needing look as he watched her.

"You have a lovely home," Hilda commented. The man didn't reply. "Oh by the way, what is your name?" Again, he didn't reply. Hilda looked round at him; he was just staring at her, a wild, uncontrolled spark making his eyes look eerie and causing Hilda to reconsider her earlier conclusion of the man being handsome. "Um, so… tea would be nice."

The man laughed. A hallow, empty laugh. He shook his head, "I don't think so."

Loran Street is a place where everyone keeps to himself or herself. In fact, they keep to themselves so much so that no one batted an eyelid when Hilda scream penetrated the silence that usually gripped the street. No one dared note it as anything out of ordinary. Because what an earth could be out of ordinary about Loran Street?


It wasn't until the fifth disappearance that special ops torchwood was called in. The police had no leads and it seemed as if the people missing had just disappeared into thin air. They told the torchwood team this, not that they were exactly surprised.

"Why is it," said Owen as he, Jack and Gwen made their way along Loran Street. "That police can never deal with anything on their own anymore."

"I guess help can be to easily found," Jack said simply as they walked up a driveway on the street.

"Who's this then?" Gwen asked nodding towards the house they were in front of.

"Brenda Smith, sixty-six, a few days ago she told the police than about three weeks ago she heard a scream coming from down the street," Jack said professionally.

Gwen frowned as she shook her head, "If she heard it three weeks ago then why did she only just tell them?"

Jack smiled, "That's what we're here to find out." He rung the doorbell and a few moments later Brenda came to the door.

The old woman smiled at the three strangers, "You must be the detectives."

"Something like that, yes," Jack said. "I'm captain Jack Harkness, this is Gwen and Owen. Can we come in Mrs Smith?"

"Yes, of course," Brenda stepped aside, letting the three of them pass. "I was just about to make some tea," she said in her strong welsh accent. She led them into the kitchen where she got out four mugs from a cupboard. "Do you take sugar?"

"Oh, that really isn't necessary," Jack said quickly. "We won't be long."

"Oh," Brenda put down the kettle. "Well, at least sit down," she indicated the kitchen table.

They sat down and Owen asked, getting straight to the point, "So Brenda, why tell the police you heard a scream three weeks after you heard it?" Gwen gave him a look but he simply shrugged.

Brenda cleared her throat, "Well, I may forgotten or… I mean I didn't think much of it at the time… could have been children or -"

"I haven't seen many children around here," Jack commented. He leaned closer to Brenda; he could smell her sticky old perfume, "Tell us the truth Brenda."

She looked up at jack with fear in her eyes, "I was scared," she choked. "All the time I'd here them… what if it was me next?" she whispered. She shook her head, "It only stated when those two came."

"What two?" asked Owen.

Brenda looked up at the three of them, her eyes wide as she desperately tried to get them to understand, she said, "The two new neighbours at number forty-two."

Jack nodded, "It started when they moved in?"

Brenda sighed, "Yes, and…" she hesitated, "Well, I said hello to one of them once and… he - he had blood on his shirt Mr Harkness."

"I see," said Jack thinking that this is more like a murder for the police to deal with. He stood up with a gentle sigh, "Well thank you Mrs Smith, we'll be on our way."

Brenda nodded, though she looked like she wasn't sure about something. Owen frowned as he stood up, "Something wrong?"

"Well, it's just - and this is probably nothing – but I saw, I saw something…"

Gwen nodded, "What did you see?"

"There was a, well a horn – it was, it was on his neck and looked almost," she looked up at the three as if it were most insane thing in the world, "Almost alien."


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