He could not recall for how many nights he'd been sitting in the shady pup, somewhere on Earth; exact location long forgotten. He just sat there, night after night, gurgling down beer, trying, in vain, to drown his sorrows. Each morning, when the pup closed, he would leave; wander around the small town aimlessly, telling himself it was time to go, to continue his travels, still; he would always be drawn back.
This night was just like the others; he sat by himself in a small corner, he'd already emptied his first five bottles even though he'd only been there for about an hour. It still wasn't enough; he needed something stronger.
"Jack. What're you doing here?"
He had just been about to order something, didn't matter what, just something stronger than beer, when he heard the voice. He had been so preoccupied in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed the other person coming over.
"John." He said, voice shaking. "What are you doing here?"
"You know." John said, sitting down "I like this place. Visit every so often. But, tell me; what happened?"
There was an odd concern in John's voice; one Jack couldn't remember having ever heard before.
"You didn't notice?" He asked incredulously "every child stopped."
"I noticed. But you fixed it. Right?"
"Right. We did but…" swallowing hard Jack fought to keep the memories a bay; it was in vain.
"But what?" John leaned across the table and placed a hand on Jack's arm. "Tell me Jack. What happened?"
"Ianto… he's gone… Ianto's dead." Burying his face in his hands he let go of the tears and sopped like a little boy; crying like he hadn't cried since his father died. Vaguely he heard John getting up from his chair and the next thing he new the other man was sitting on the bench beside him; arms wrapped around him. Not caring what other people in the pup would think of the sight of a grown man sobbing away in another man's arms he buried his face in John's shoulder and just cried; all those tears he had kept back for so long. He cried for them all; for Steven and Ianto. For Owen and Tosh. For Estelle. For Lucia. So many people he'd loved and lost; more often than not caused their deaths.
Lifting his tear streaked face from John's shoulder he looked at his hands; somehow he could see the blood running from them.
"But that's not all. Is it?"
John's question brought him out of his dark thoughts. Sighing he shook his head.
"No, it's not." He couldn't go on. How do you tell that you've caused your own grandson's death? "I'm a murderer John. I killed. My own. Grandson."
Why had he done it? There should have been another way. He'd closed his ears for Alice's pleas; now he'd lost her as well as Steven. But who was he kidding? They were never close.
"I'm leaving." He said. Voice still shaking and thick from crying. "Leaving Earth. It's too small." It wasn't some crazy idea which had just appeared in his mind; the thought had crossed him before.
"You can't!" to his surprise John sounded angry. "Who will protect Earth when you're gone?"
"Gwen. As long as Gwen Cooper is running Torchwood Earth remains safe."