Looking back I can say there were two great loves of my life, with smaller ones after.

At the time agency there had been no one. Well, that's not true, there had been plenty. However, I was never in love with any of them. We went through training together, had one shag or many but I didn't love any of them. I know I broke at least one of their hearts because of this but it's true. I hadn't realized what I was missing then. Then it felt fine, it felt wonderful in fact. But then I fell in love. Strange that my first love should be found in the past.

I didn't know I fell in love, fell in love with both of them. I hear that's how love is though. You fall in love and have no idea how it happened. You just wake up one day and it hits you in the face, I'm in love. Once it hits you love becomes so obvious, so painfully there. You can't avoid the feeling once you really know its there. All you see is the love, the person, or the people. All you want is to be with them, for them to be back.

I realized I was in love when I came back from the dead. I was ripped out of the darkness with the air rushing into my lungs. Suddenly I was back on the station, alive. I ran and ran and when I saw the Tardis was gone it hit me, sorrow. The stab of pain in my chest which told me that they had left me there caused a connection in my heart and head. I was in love and alone. The two I just realized I was in love with had left me. They brought me back and left me. Any joy I may have felt at realizing my love was overshadowed by the stabbing pain of abandonment and confusion. Why had they brought me back and left me?

The next time I was hit by love was in 1943. Estelle. It had been so random. Most soldiers meet that 'girl back home' just there, back home or at a dance or some other romantic place. I met Estelle in a shop buying cigarettes, yes I smoked for awhile during that war, it wasn't really avoidable. She had such dark brown hair brushing at her shoulders. I hadn't been with a woman since 1940 but her eyes struck me the moment she asked me to reach up to the top shelf to get a bag of flour.

"Excuse me?"

For a woman in 1943 she had such confidence in her voice. She wasn't afraid of any man or batting her eye lashes to appear like a wilting flower.

"Could you hand me that bag at the top? It's just a bit too high for me."

She wasn't trying to flirt with me straight off like most women. She was actually asking for the flour. Strange that the next time I felt love it didn't start with romance or flirting or alcohol… it began with flour, dark brown hair, a confident voice, and intense eyes.

Estelle brought me happiness I hadn't felt since… since them. She made me forget my sorrow, forget how far away I was from my real home, forget that I was in World War II, forget how I was trapped. She just made me happy. We went to dances together, did all the soppy romantic things you hear about in the 1940s. We made promises I knew would not be able to last but I so wished could. I wanted to make her happy for the rest of her life. Estelle was the first one I actually said the words to.

"I love you, Estelle."

To think I was the one who said it first. For a man like me who has gone through more lovers than most, I said it first. I don't know how she did it, but she did. Of course that feeling in the back of my heart for those two never left. It was always there like an old ache, but she let me forget for a little while and be happy.

I loved holding her hand, touching her hair, kissing her cheek. It was soppy and just like a first love should be, even if it was my second. We had perfect rhythm together when we danced and I made sure to dip her as much as I could. We wrote the classic love letters and kissed in the rain. It was just what love should be.

But then there was the war and I didn't see her again like that. I didn't see her again until she was old. Even in old age she kept that confidence and that smile. And then she died because I could not save her. After all she had done for me back in 1943 she died because I wasn't there soon enough. I hope she could forgive me my failure.

Strangely enough my heart was touched again further back, before Estelle, in 1941. It wasn't really before Estelle being as I had just been in 2006 but then it was 1941. In a way I was happy to back. The 1940s did bring out some of the best things in the people of England. A band was playing, people were dancing, the atmosphere was full of hope. Music like that always made me want to dance and I couldn't help but smile at it all despite Tosh's worry.

Then suddenly we met Captain Jack Harkness. It is rather strange to meet the man whose identity you stole, especially when they are so attractive. I felt a strange combination of surprise, guilt, and arousal. Nice to know that I was keeping his name good in the looks department. Yet as the night went on, as Tosh and I tried to find a way back, I became more drawn to him. Really we became drawn to each other. He kept coming back to me, making comments edging closer to that territory.

"You can't run out on me, I just got you a drink."

At first I wasn't sure if he knew how he was behaving, how it looked to me. I knew he found in me someone who knew what it felt like, knew the horrors of battle, someone who he could unburden himself to. I was fine with that. I wanted to be able to ease his suffering. After all, it was his last night and he didn't even know. I just wanted him to be happy.

I didn't love him. I know that. It was only one night, hard to fall in love that fast. It's possible but you can only do that so many times and Estelle had conquered that territory two years in the future. However, I cared about him. I cared about his happiness. I was the one who knew it was his last night, his last chance. I told him to go after that girl, to make this the night the best ever. Of course I could tell he was conflicted but I didn't realize why until he came back.

I must admit I was not upset that he did. After all, he was quite hot and I had been attracted to him since he intervened with my little scuffle on the dance floor. Funny that I have lived so long and yet my own emotions can still be such a mystery to me. I don't know how they hide themselves so well. They are still able to surprise me.

"I thought you'd gone."

The second after I said it I knew how it sounded, disappointed potential lover. Was I turning into a romance novel? Quite possibly.

"This could be your last chance."

Still, he wasn't supposed to be for me. There was that girl and it was his last night. He shouldn't be here. I don't know why I tell myself stupid things like this when I knew the reason he came back when he looked at me. I suppose I was telling myself to stop being so 21st century about it; I had to be wrong. He was just confused.

"That's why I came back."

And then he said that.

The moment hung there as I paused. "I might have to leave before the night is over."

I didn't want to ruin this night for him. It wasn't my place. I know not to meddle too much; it only makes things worse in the end. I had to be the rational one here, not the romantic. Of course my line of rational thinking in these cases usually disappears pretty quickly.

"Well, then make the most of now."

He surprised me then and touched my hand. It was strangely romantic for something that if it happened could obviously only be one night. I felt like I was being wooed, and maybe I was. It's rare for someone else to be making the first move when I am involved. Thus, that one hand touch worked and had that pair not walked up to steal our space the night may have gone just like those 40s romances, short but full of passion.

However, they came in and his composure and confidence broke. His face had looked so expectant and nervous. I was still unsure, should I meddle more in his last night, and didn't get a chance to really answer his question before those two scared him. You'd think the intertwining of fingers would be enough but then again this was not my century, this was the middle of the 20th century. So, though I tried to reassure him, he ran.

You know how they say that time flies? I have always found that to be the most amusing expression. It's probably because of my previous line of work. However, in my great experience with time I have found that expression to be true as well as false. My time with Estelle did seem to fly by because it was full of so much joy. Yet this night seemed to stretch on and on.

I talked to Tosh, told her more than I should. I was reminded again of those two. I finally said out loud the thing that had been haunting me for years.

"Someone saved my life, brought me back from the dead and ever since then it's like they're keeping me for something and I don't know what it is."

Why was I still alive? Why had they left me? Why haven't they come for me yet? Why else would I still be alive if not for something? What could it be? Why didn't they come for me, tell me what I was needed for? Why didn't they come back? Didn't they know I loved them?

So, the night went on as Tosh and I waited for the rift to open. We had done all we could. I watched Jack across the dance hall, did not approach him. I wasn't going to confuse him more or cause him any problems. There was nothing I could do. I wanted to help him, do something, but I couldn't do anything and it broke my heart. I may not have loved him but I certainly wanted to save him. I saw the pain in his face as he looked back at me. Maybe that love at first sight thing had happened for him tonight.

Then he surprised me for the second time, stood up from his position leaning against the wall and walked across the dance floor toward Tosh and I. He didn't ask, didn't say anything, just slipped his hand in between my clasped ones and took it. I followed him onto the dance floor, hand in his, looking only at him. He still appeared scared but decided that he was going to make this night what he wanted it to be.

So we danced, regardless of the place or of the time or of what the people around us thought. I couldn't help but smile. It was really what we both needed, especially him. We held on to each other, dancing alone. It was good to do something for him, to hold on to him now when he needed it. I couldn't save his life but I could give him this. I felt his breath on my ear, his face coming up closer to mine, and his lips. I forgot about Torchwood, time, my duty, the place, those two… I only saw him.

Then the rift opened. The haze around use disintegrated. Toshiko was yelling our name.

"I have to go." He nodded. I could tell he was trying hard. "It's my duty."

I let go and went away from him. My duty, I said, of course he could understand that. But then my own advice struck me, live like it's your last day. And why not? I may not be able to die but there was no telling when my lives would run out, when this mystery that is keeping me alive would end. So, I went back and kissed him. I kissed him like I was in a 1950s movie, like it was my last night too, almost like I loved him. Warm lips against mine, passion that would have no other chance let free. I said a real goodbye. I hope I gave him the best night of his life. It was all I could do and god it felt so good.

And I left. I looked back, that same deep sorrow that I had felt because of those two creeping in. Part of me knew that if I could have stayed and we could have been together that I really would have loved him. But the long night ended and he was gone. Amazing that just one night could mean so much.

I guess the 1940s really was an important decade for me. I met, cared for, and left two such important people then. Does the whirlwind of a world gone mad with war always do that to you? Maybe it's just me, then again maybe not.

And now there is Ianto Jones.

A lot of people say that office romances or office sex is not the best thing. Strangely I haven't found that in any of the place I have ever 'worked.' Then again that may just be my personality. Torchwood was no different from the Time Agency or anywhere else.

We'd always had a sort of flirty relationship, even from when he first came to Torchwood three after the fall of Torchwood one. What can I say? He really does look good in a suit, very good.

"And this is Ianto Jones. Ianto cleans up after us and gets us everywhere on time."

"I try my best."

He was so poised and good at his job. Sometimes you didn't see what he did, it just appeared done. Coffee was on your desk before you asked. My desk was tidy the next morning after I'd left it a disaster. Bodies were taken care of, disasters cleared up, files labeled properly and put away in good order. Ianto was efficient at what he did and that made him perfect for the job.

"And he looks good in a suit."

"Careful, that's harassment sir."

And that lovely 'sir' so often tacked at the end of his sentences, sometimes serious and sometimes teasing. I would make comments; Ianto would counter in that slightly flirty way of his. Sometimes he was so subtle I wasn't quite sure if Ianto was flirting at all. He was quiet and didn't talk much except about work or to make some witty remark about modern technology or Splot.

Ianto made me smile in a way that no one had for a long time. It certainly wasn't love at first sight. It wasn't anything at first. Oh sure I'd check out his ass now and then as he walked by with the coffee mugs but there was so much to be done, things washing through the rift every day. There really wasn't time to consider much.

After Lisa it began to change. It was such a deep betrayal for such a righteous reason. I hadn't felt love in a long time, maybe all I could remember was that ache in my heart. Yet there was Ianto, so desperately in love that he was willing to risk so much, to betray us, to die for her. I had forgotten feeling like that. I couldn't feel like that. She was a cyberwoman and no matter what he felt it could not be. Yet afterward I knew I would not turn him out, send him away. He did not mean to hurt us. It was all for her. It was for love. Ianto had such passion I was completely unaware of before. So, he stayed and I tried to heal what was broken. He was one of my men, just like Owen, Tosh, and Gwen. My responsibility and despite such betrayal I was going to fix it.

So, things changed. Somehow Ianto forgave me for what happened, what I had to do, even though I never apologized. The distain for me faded so quickly from his eyes. Perhaps he realized he was wrong or at least partially. He never said. But after the cannibals I realized that I cared for him more that I realized. When the shooting was done and I saw him gagged, bruised, blood on his face I had the sudden desire to hold him and tell him it would be alright. He had certainly taken the worst of the beating, even counting Gwen's bullet wound. I wanted to hold him then and make the pain go away.

We had our first kiss that night in my office. He looked a mess, a large bruise on his head from where the end of a rifle had hit him. I could tell he was still shaken by almost becoming food for another human being, a butcher knife nearly cutting his throat. I had told everyone to go home, take the next day off after we returned to the hub. Ianto was the last to leave, asking me if I was sure there was nothing that needed to be done before he went. Amazing. The man almost gets killed by cannibals then asks me if there is any work to do. So I stood up and kissed him. I didn't even think about it. My emotions take hold of me sometimes and I just can't control them. Probably why it's good that Gwen is around to reign me in. I kissed him, pulling him closer and wrapping my arms around him, until he cried out in pain.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, I-"

"No." He cut me off, putting a hand over his stomach. "No, its alright, just a bruise."

He looked up at me and smiled. We were still standing close, closer than the normal comfort level of the western world.

"It'll heal."

I didn't just mean the bruises. He must have known because he didn't answer or nod. His expression was one of unsurity but also hope.

So, I kissed him again, gently pulling the back of his neck and drawing his lips to mine. He had soft lips, smooth skin, and a hesitant tongue. It was the first time for this between us, all that casual flirting finally turning into more. Unbelievable that cannibals brought it on. Ianto wrapped one arm around me, bringing our bodies into total contact. I wondered for one second about his wounds but insistent lips distracted me. Ianto tasted even better than that perfect coffee he always brewed. I didn't know I had started to care about him more like this.

Our lips parted, need to breathe taking over. I grinned at him then. I was actually glad now that the flirty phase was over. It was good to feel him in my arms and his around me. He grimaced and I slowly let go. I was proud of myself a moment after when I realized that his well being mattered more to me than sexual contact.

"You should go home, rest up some. I don't need you staying broken."

He laughed at me and nodded.

"Yes, sir."

I pursed my lips and smiled as he walked out. He looked back at me once.

"Call me if you need anything done, and don't work too much without us."

After that night things grew. It was slow but for some reason this time that was fine with me. I was comfortable with it and Ianto seemed to be as well, though we kept it private, lightly hidden from the rest of the team. He was around more, going out on field missions, beside me. The perfect coffee still appeared on my desk but sometimes with a hand rested temporarily over mine before he walked out again.

The first time we had sex was after Suzie.

"If you're interested I've still got a stopwatch."

That flirty tone still remained between us.

"So?"

You'd think I would notice the look on his face when he said things like that, insinuate the meaning. Wasn't I supposed to be the more experienced one? Apparently not right then.

"Well, think about it. Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch."

And damn it was amazing how quickly he could arouse me.

"Oh yeah. I can think of few."

"There's quite a list."

It was funny how we still had these little dances: make a seemingly well behaved comment, turn it around, give a look, move forward, one two cha cha cha.

"I'll send the other's home early; see you in my office in 10."

"That's 10 minutes and counting."

I don't know how but he had started to really know me, know when I needed something, needed help, needed just a little cheering up from a second betrayal of my former second in command, needed a distraction, needed him.

I certainly wouldn't say we're romantic on a whole. Our first shag on my desk with papers knocked all over the floor and Ianto moaning beneath me wasn't really like my 40s promises and dances. But that's not what I needed anymore.

Looking back I'm not even sure how it happened but we just became comfortable. I knew I could count on him again to do the job; drive the car, come to interview a witness, take lost plane passengers to the store to shop. When no one else was around he could stop me with a look so I would have him pushed up against the wall. I began to only like coffee if he was the one who brewed it. I had favorite suits of his, the dark ones with matching dark shirts underneath. Suddenly flashes of grabbing him by his tie and ripping his coat off in the conference room would hit me as we all discussed a case. Smiles came to me more readily when he was the one speaking. I hadn't even realized he'd been getting me my coat until I was back from the dead again, one arm draped over his shoulder and I saw him grab it off the stand. How did he become my solid support? How did he become what those two had not been? I just wanted to kiss him for all the little things I hardly had noticed but began to treasure about him, what made me care about him so much, everything I knew he did just for me.

Somewhere along the way I knew he must be falling in love with me.

When I came back this time after days being cold on a metal drawer I saw that he'd cried over me. Tosh ran up, overjoyed to hug me. Ianto followed coming up to me unsure. Perhaps he was afraid he'd break down into tears, maybe he already had before when I was dead. It started with his hand out as if for a 'welcome back' shake. I guess I never did make it really clear what we were to each other, especially in the open. Then again it's not as if the others couldn't know or, if not, that they would be surprised. Maybe he was afraid to show how much he cared about me. It's not as if we'd talked about our feelings. Maybe he didn't want me to know he'd been upset I was dead, as if I couldn't tell.

I pulled him into me for a hug, removing his hesitation. I felt more life return to me with him in my arms. His body just fit with mine. He buried his face in my shoulder as we held each other. This was the one time I was glad I came back, glad I could come back to this.

I wanted to say I was sorry, sorry for leaving him for so long, sorry for making him cry. Instead I pulled his head up and kissed him, regardless of the others. Returning from death I think warrants a kiss to one you care about so much. My lips on his, hand on his cheek I hoped made up for days of such pain.

Then he let me go, allowing me to go to Owen and heal the breech. He really did know me better than anyone before, more than I thought possible. As his hand grazed across my waist as I walked away I knew I could fall in love with him, probably would.

Yet those two rise above all else, those two that left me. Sometimes I can't believe my own emotions. Why do I love them so much after so long? Why do I love them so much more than the others since then? Why does the love for them remain over Estelle or Jack or Ianto? Why does that ache stay in my heart? I missed them so much and even the comfort of Ianto, bravery of Jack, and confidence of Estelle couldn't completely eradicate it. I just missed them both.

I didn't know love could last like this, especially when the ones you love are not there. It was them that made me leave each one in the end, even if I told myself other reasons. I couldn't tell Estelle I was immortal or that I couldn't really keep my promises to her. I couldn't change Jack's death or I had to go back with Tosh through the rift for duty. Really my love for those two pushed me in the back of my heart, gave me more reason to leave.

Maybe this time I won't leave, maybe I will stay with Ianto here at Torchwood. Ianto is warming my heart more every day. He fits with me so perfectly, feels right. Maybe I won't run away eternally drawn to the first two who left.

But now I hear the sound of the Tardis and all other thoughts of anyone are erased except for the thought of the Doctor and Rose. The ache explodes into love, passion, happiness, relief, excitement. They are back and I run to them.