Prologue... post COE
Jack sighed as he looked up at the night sky. The moon was bright and it lit the tropical beach with an unearthly blue light. The sand beneath his bare feet sparkled in the dim light and as he looked down again, it reminded him of a sea of gems. The surf made a quiet noise as it greedily lapped its way inland, signifying the start of low tide. The beauty of the Hawaiian beach escaped him, however.
"Why did I come here?" He asked the night around him. The leaves in the overhead palm tree rustled softly. Cicadas could be heard chirping somewhere off in the grass which bordered the sandy beach. "This is a place for lovers. This is no place for me," he said as he stared out into the night, tears burning his eyes again. He closed his eyes and sighed. He had told himself that he was done with tears. They accomplished nothing. As he bowed his head, he willed them away.
Looking up again, he snorted softly. As if the power of will had anything to accomplish here. Were that so, he would not be standing where he was at that moment, nor would he need to be there – if willpower were all it took, Ianto and Steven would not lie under the cold ground half the world away from him. He clenched his fists, his nails doffing into his palms in an effort not to react to that thought.
Jack was attempting to lose himself. To find answers. To justify who he was, what he had done as well as explain his own actions to himself. He thought that if he could walk around the world, he could find an answer. He didn't try to fly or to take any kind of transport which would make the journey easier. He walked. He had started out in Europe, looking at the people there, trying to make sense in this post- 456 world that what happened had made a difference. He had been disheartened to see people go back to their usual lives afterwards, as if the events of the past were no longer important. That the sacrifices his team had made – that he personally had made – made no difference. It was then that he stopped walking.
He hitched a ride through the barren wastelands of Kazakhstan, trying to find a place to run to. All he found was mile upon mile empty space. He reveled in it at first. No one needing his attention; no one looking for him to help them. Just people living in tiny enclaves, eking out an existence as they battled the elements. Until he came to a remote village in the steppes. And that was when he saw her for the first time.
The tarot girl. Jack closed his eyes and shuddered as he stood on the warm sandy beach, still feeling the chill of seeing her there. In the midst of all those people, she stood in a simple dress, her long hair looking out of place in a land where people bundled up in furs for warmth. Yet it was as if the cold did not touch her as she stood by the edge of the fire. She did not approach him, and he had no desire to speak with her. He had seen her too many times already in his past, and had no wish to hear whatever it was that she had to tell him. So he fled the village. Fled the steppes and ran as fast as he could. He ran south at first, making his way to Delhi, and then over to Nepal. He sought the high mountains of the Himalayas. He shook his head, remembering.
It was high up in the mountains that he began to dream of Ianto. To remember the stories that Ianto used to tell when they were in bed together. Of those good times, those wonderful times that he had never appreciated. That he had taken for granted. That he could never get back, never tell him how he felt. Never look into the other man's eyes again and see forgiveness for his transgressions. His omissions. His mistakes. There was no one to forgive anymore, and he found he didn't deserve absolution for what he had done.
He thought about the year that never was, when Saxon had sent the team to the Himalayas on a wild goose chasing mission. Ianto didn't remember it happening, but he did. He remembered everything that happened with the Master and at the top of Mount Cho Oyu he screamed at the injustice of what had happened. He screamed until his throat was raw, the awful sound echoing off the mountain and reverberating down below. It was the first time in many years that he just wanted to be able to kill himself. To stop the pain. But he couldn't. He would have to live with this forever.
Eventually, he came down from the mountains and ended up wandering through those lesser known countries that the modern world didn't want to think about – places like Assam, Manipur, the Christmas Islands and down through the Australian outback where he stood and watched the fires rage for miles. It was on the remote island of Ambrym that he saw the tarot girl again. She stood out like a ghost amongst the dark skinned people. They bowed to her and to Jack. He turned away. He didn't need someone to worship him, but to curse him as the devil he was. She did not chase after him. She stood at the edge of the village dock and just watched him. He left, seeking to leave her behind again.
Jack left again, going from Fiji to Tonga to the Cook Islands. He ran, not knowing where to go, but running away from the little girl who had told him his fortune in the past. There was no good that could come of it, he thought, so he moved on, not wanting to face her. He finally stopped when he reached Nihoa in the Hawaiian Islands. He was tired. So tired. So alone. No matter where he went, there was a cavernous emptiness inside. There had been a time when he would have reveled in the adventure of exploration; in meeting new people and exploring places he had never been. The Earth felt cramped now. Confining. Restictive.
He tilted his head back and looked at the stars. In the night, away from civilization, the stars sparkled above him. Taunting him, teasing and beckoning for him to come. He had no means of getting to them, however. No means of contacting those that he knew lurked above. Who could take him away from this place, the place where he felt trapped and alone. So very alone. This place where no one cared.
His conscience told him that he was lying to himself again. That there was someone who cared, and whom he had left behind to pick up the pieces without him. He felt that stab of guilt that once again, he had failed someone. Failed Gwen. He closed his eyes, his lip trembling. No. He couldn't go back. Couldn't face her. Couldn't rebuild. Not there. Not again. He had done it so many times before, and finally his soul screamed out: Enough!
"What about me?" He cried out loud, startling whatever creature had nested down in the grass under the tree. "When do I get to be happy? When?" He sank down into the soft sand, the tears finally emerging again as he railed against the injustice that was his life. His unlife. Undeath. He didn't know what to call it. He crumpled down and slept; exhausted and soul weary.
In the morning, he awoke and there she was. Standing on the other side of the little inlet; waiting for him. He rubbed the grit out of his eyes and squinted against the bright light which was reflected off the water.
"No," he said as he staggered to his feet. "Go away!" He shouted. "Leave. Me. Alone!"
She stood under a nearby tree and gazed at him with sympathetic eyes. He didn't want to see. Didn't want to hear what she had to say. It wasn't for him.
So he turned and ran. Made his way from island to island, shipping out across the Pacific until he got to Ensenada. He worked his way across Mexico, avoiding people where he could and hiding in the mountains. Then he moved south through Mazatlán, then further down through the small villages in Guatemala, Columbia and Brazil. It was in São Luís that he stopped, running out a land again. He stood at a dock undecided on where to go. He had been running for months now, and still hadn't found any answers. Any forgiveness. Any reason for going on.
It was while lying on the beach under the dock one night that he saw it. A streak of light that some nearby tourists thought was a shooting star. Looking up from where he lay, he knew better. By the colors of the gas emissions, he knew that they had just seen a low orbit pass of a ship. He spent some time trying to figure just who had buzzed the Earth. Perhaps some tourist, looking to scare the locals. Or an alien scientist, looking to scoop some smog up to analyze for a pet project. He lay back on the beach, his head pillowed on his arms as he thought about how nice it would be to hitch a ride. To get off the Earth. It had gotten too small for him. Held too many memories. Too many wars, battles that were lost and won and all of it which meant the death of people he cared about. He had lost the will to care.
It was that night that an idea formed. He could get to the stars. All he needed was a way to signal them to come pick him up. It was the first active thought he had had in months, and he decided that he needed to do something about it. The next day he went into the city and sent off a telegram to Gwen, asking her to search for his vortex manipulator. It should be easy to find, since it was made of a metal that didn't exist yet and which was as indestructible as he was. Once he had a goal in mind, he decided he needed to make his way back to the UK. To be there when Gwen found his escape route.
When they met that night, six months after the end of everything, he thought it would be the last time he would ever set foot in that place in Wales which had been his life for so long. That he would never see again the woman whose life he had ruined, carelessly dragging her into a world which she should never have been a part of. Seeing her there, pregnant and with her husband helped firm his resolve that there was nothing left for him there. He had ruined enough lives. Let her have hers in peace, he thought to himself. And so at the first opportunity, at the touch of a button he transported himself into the heavens, where he could run….
He didn't get very far. In fact, the cold fusion cruiser was on a loop through the ring galaxy known as Hoag's Object when he got off at a transfer station. He had been so eager to run, to find a new life. To go to a place where he wouldn't have to remember. Where it wouldn't hurt. And in every face he looked, he saw that little tarot girl. He had run to the end of the station and collapsed into a corner, closing his eyes. Not wanting to see her. Not wanting to think of what he had left behind.
Jack banged his head against the bulkhead and laughed. He thought of all the running he had done, and how none of it really mattered. And he began to think about the girl with the tarot cards. Who was she? Was she tied to him somehow and would she ever leave him alone? He shook his head, knowing the answer. No. She would follow until she delivered her message. He sat for a few more moments as he processed that information. He could run, but he couldn't hide. She would find him.
Coming to that conclusion, he let out a gusty sigh.
It was then he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he could never run far enough to escape his own memories. No ship could carry him far enough. He doubted that even if the Doctor were there and took him to the end of the universe and time itself again, that it would be far enough. Because what he was running from was inside him.
He pushed himself up to his feet and leaned his head against the wall. He laughed at himself, seeing the ridiculousness of it all. There was no running. Not anymore. It was time to meet this head on, find out whatever there was to find out, and to face it. With that resolution made, he pushed away from the wall and made his way back to the trade section of the station.
The irony of it all was, he thought to himself as he looked in yet another bar on the concourse was that now that he was ready to face it, the tarot girl was nowhere to be found. He closed his eyes and decided he just needed to sit. Walking up to the bar, he ordered a hyper vodka and took it over to a dark corner, away from the few denizens that occupied the place.
He took a sip, enjoying the stinging taste of the alcohol. It felt good to be drinking again, he thought. He leaned back in his seat and stared down at the glass, watching the ice melt. He wasn't sure how long it was before he noticed that someone was standing there watching him. Perhaps it was the absence of sound in the bar that first grabbed his attention. When he finally glanced up, he met the dark eyes of the tarot girl. When he nodded his head in acquiescence, she sat down across from him. They stared at one another for a long moment. Jack found that now that the moment was at hand, he was calm and ready to accept whatever it was that she had to tell him. She laid out several cards on the table and started to turn them over.
"The past is gone, the future yet to unravel," she began in a low voice, staring deep into his eyes. "For one such as you, they are one in the same. You may go forward into the past to retrieve what you have lost, or you may step sideways into the space between time itself and find your true love."
Jack felt his mouth go dry at her words. In some ways, she spoke in riddles. In others, she offered him a glimmer of hope that he thought impossible. "What?" He asked, his voice a mere croak.
"The lost can be found once again. It is within your means to seek them out," she intoned.
"How?" Jack asked. He leaned forward wanting to reach out and touch her, but also afraid that doing so would disrupt the illusion. After all, they were more than 600 million light years away from Earth. Whatever connection could be easily severed and now that he was speaking with her, he was afraid to damage that tenuous connection. That connection that there was hope for him yet. He wasn't sure he really believed that what she was suggesting was possible. But she had always been right before, it stood to reason she would be right now. "Please, I have to know."
"You had in your possession on Earth an object once that would allow you to step between space and time," she said with a serious look on her face.
"My vortex manipulator?" Jack asked with a frown as he glanced briefly down at the wrist strap that held his device. She shook her head. "The TARDIS?" He asked again. Again, another shake. "I don't know what you mean," he said softly, wanting desperately to understand.
"It lies beneath the earth, in a place of holding, placed in a box. A box with the writing of the one you love on it," the tarot girl responded. Jack's jaw dropped open. She was referring to the Torchwood archives.
"They survived?" He asked, knowing he didn't need to explain to her what he meant. She nodded.
"Even now, those you left behind work to restore the place above the gash between time and space," she said. "If you return, you may use it to search for your lost love."
"But how? There are so many boxes. So many artifacts," Jack said, beginning to feel frustrated and very daunted by the idea. "How will I know which one to look in?"
"Look for the entwined letters of J and I," she told him. "It is there that you will find what you seek." Jack closed his eyes, trying to think of what possibly could have those letters in the archives. Nothing came to mind. He knew he was alone again when he noticed the resumption of the sound around him. Glasses clinked as the barman cleaned up, there was the low murmur of voices as several transients spoke with one another. Music could be heard on the other side of the wall from where he sat. She was gone. Opening his eyes, he smiled. All that running. All that trying to escape whatever it was that she had to tell him and once he did finally give in, it was to tell him that there was a way for him to find Ianto again. He let out a harsh laugh, drawing the attention of some of the other customers, who looked away hastily at the sound.
"Ianto," he whispered, closing his eyes again as he felt the familiar pain. She gave him an option. But what kind of option was it? To go through to an alternate reality and find another Ianto? Was that even possible? Was it even fair to the Ianto in another world? A Ianto who might never have known him, and was now living out a life away from the rift, away from danger and away from him. He shook his head. He couldn't do that to Ianto. Couldn't pull him away from a life elsewhere. His mind went around in circles, alternately arguing that perhaps it was meant to be. Perhaps it was why it had been mentioned to him in the first place. He had the means to find Ianto again. To make things right. To relocate the other half of his soul again.
For that was what it felt like, his soul ripped apart, the best of it taken away with Ianto's last breath. Could he find the man he loved again? And if he did, would that man love him back? Jack covered his mouth with his hand as he thought about all of the ramifications of what searching through alternate realities would mean. He had thought that the Doctor had told him that the wall between realities was now closed. But if the girl told him otherwise, then there had to be a way.
Jack didn't know how long he sat there, but by the time the barkeep started closing down for the night he had finally come to a conclusion. He had to go back. Had to go look. Had to take the chance, and see if he could find Ianto again. Find the man he loved and this time let him know how he felt. It was a second chance, and Jack shivered as he felt something that he thought that he would never feel ever again. Hope. It crept inside while he had been thinking and filled his being with light. He nodded to himself and stood, leaving a healthy tip for the barman as he left.