Disclaimer: Children of Earth doesn't belong to me, and I wouldn't want to claim it if it did. Torchwood, on the other hand, was a wonderful science fiction program, and I sadly have to confess that none of the characters belong to me. This is a work of fan fiction written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: I debated long and hard before posting this here. It has been languishing on my LiveJournal for seven months, because I am not sure this is the way I want to represent myself to a larger audience. This story is not intended to be mean and spiteful, but to some it might come across that way. It is intended to be a thoughtful criticism in an entertaining format, but if you thought Children of Earth was the best thing to ever happen to Torchwood, then please move along. There is nothing for you to see here.

It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter One

Still in Shock

Jack sat motionless on the bench, staring at the wall across from him. It had been, oh, at least a couple of days since Alice had come through the door, looked at him, and walked away in disgust, and he couldn't blame her for it. No one had asked him to move. In fact, now that he thought about it, he must have been here closer to three or four days. People were starting to have conversations around him as if he was part of the furniture.

The familiar whooping of the TARDIS didn't even pull Jack out of his reverie. He just wasn't interested. It really didn't matter to him anymore. He was content to sit here until he died of thirst, but if the Doctor tried to cheer him up now, he'd kick the Time Lord's arse for it being too little, too late. He dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to face his old friend as an abject failure.

His eyebrows shot up as a pair of highly polished men's dress shoes appeared in his line of sight. "Busy regenerating, were y . . ." He stopped in mid-breath to see a pair of small trainers join the dress shoes.

"You just going to sit there and mope all day?" a much beloved voice asked. "Or are you going to help us undo this fiasco?"

Jack let his gaze travel up the short legs, over the jumper, and rest on that beaming little face. "S-Stephen?" he gasped, and reached out to touch the boy's hair. But his hand stopped, trembling just centimetres from the child, as if to touch him would shatter the illusion. He glanced up at the boy's chaperone and got an encouraging smile. He looked back at Stephen and grinned.

"Uncle Jack!" Stephen squealed and leaped into his arms.

Jack held the boy as tight as he could without damaging him, breathing in the scents of children's shampoo and bubble bath, the fabric softener his daughter used, andworms? He began to chuckle. Stephen had been playing outside, and probably had something in his pocket that would make Alice rant later. That mental image made him laugh aloud, and soon, he was so overwrought, he was sobbing.

"Uncle Jack?" Stephen queried in concern.

"You . . . you're real, aren't you?" Jack asked anxiously. Looking up, he said desperately, "You're really here, not just a hallucination?"

Ianto smiled and nodded. Jack carefully set Stephen aside, showering him with kisses even as he did so. Then he surged to his feet and pulled Ianto into a bone-crushing hug and claiming his mouth in a passionate kiss. Pulling away, he began to sob again. "I love you, too, Ianto!" he said vehemently. "You know that, don't you? I need you to know that. Please tell me you know that! Tell me you know that I love you."

Ianto cradled Jack's face between his palms and shushed him gently. "Shhhh, cariad," he said. "Of course I know." He placed a chaste little kiss on Jack's lips and another on his forehead. Jack offered him a watery smile and Ianto wiped away his tears with his thumbs.

"Now, cut the melodrama, Jack," he said. "This is scifi." Glancing down, he took Stephen's hand and walked briskly toward the TARDIS. Halfway there, he called over his shoulder, "Come along, Jack. Work to do."

Jack stared gaping after them for a moment or two, and then trotted along behind them, giddy with surprise and relief.

TBC