Only a week ago, he'd had a family. A daughter, a grandson, a team Ianto. Now he was all alone again. Jack closed his eyes and stared down at the smooth surface. He'd done this before, but it had never been like this. If he hadn't been so stupid, so arrogant, he could have stopped them. Now his daughter didn't want to speak to him and even if he did go back, Gwen would never speak to him again for leaving them all on their own. At least he had given them a good present for the baby. He wasn't the Doctor, but 21st century technology was nothing to a conman with more than 300 years experience. How else did the team think they got paid? The government had certainly been no help at all. They would see now how much they needed Torchwood...and underneath everything, they would find the files. Jack had seen to that. He'd seen the computers being built, for the first time, back when they'd been nothing more than glorified paper weights. A wild night with Turing had assured that one. Jack had never met a man who could talk so much while being so shy. He'd been able to give the man a few tips. There'd been so many that he couldn't remember. Except for Ianto. But Ianto was special, he was...Ianto. Jack didn't want to think about that. He coughed, running his hand through his hair before he dropped it back onto the bar. "Gimme another"
And now he was going back to that. Living from day to day, tricking stupid people out of their money running and hoping that he would run into the Doctor one day. Or maybe he'd just drink his way out of it. That had always worked before; a hypervodka in one hand and the latest young thing in the other. There was nothing that could stand in his way. Yeah. Like the false confidence was fooling anybody. What kind of conman was he? He couldn't even fool himself.
"This is for you" Jack looked up from his drink, expecting to find another from the pretty tentacled girl at the end of the bar he'd been eyeing up for the better part of the evening. It had been a while since he'd seen anybody with suckers like that. He'd told her as much, as well, before he'd sat down. Instead, it was just a piece of paper. Confused, he glanced upwards towards the doorway out of instinct. And there was the Doctor. He'd always known that the Doctor would be able to find him again, he always did...not just because of being a set point in time, or whatever babble the Doctor had spouted when he was explaining just why Jack was...Jack. He'd had more important things on his mind at that point, like not having his skin burnt off by mass amounts of energy. And Blue. She had most definitely been on his mind. And Martha. And the young man in the compound. And John...it was probably safe to say Jack's mind was never fully on whatever matter was at hand. The Doctor would still be able to find him, though.
He knew that face, he'd seen it before. It was the kind of expression that people had when they knew, with heart aching certainty, that the end was near. He'd seen people with it before they went over the top, not wanting to go, but knowing what they had to do...but this was the Doctor. He hadn't died in battle. He was still stood there and he would be stood in front of Jack again. It didn't need to be said. The Doctor was dying. Jack made to raise from his seat, but the look in the other man's eyes stopped him. The Doctor didn't want company, he just wanted to say goodbye.
Don't go, Doctor. He wanted to say the words. There would be another, he knew. It was what the Time Lords did, everybody knew that. The Time Agency had known that, especially. Who else's technology would they have stolen to do what they did? The Slitheen? That would have been laughable. Although there had been some very interesting devices he'd been able to have some fun with. It was true, though, Time agency had been able to clone many things, but the power of the Time Lords to defy death was something they hadn't quite worked out. But they knew of it well enough. A changing cycle between personalities, lives and appearance. Never dying, never really living.
Who knew what the next one would be like. The Doctor he knew, full of life, so serious, guilty about things he, Jack, didn't even want to understand. And then this Doctor, filled with fire and brimstone, unforgiving and a little scary, but in every way a hero, the person Jack wanted to be, tried to be with every inch of his dishonest body. How could another Doctor, even if it was the same man, be anything close? Bye. The word echoed around them, unsaid, though louder than any voice. Jack raised his hand, palm upward and steady to his head in a salute. The expression on the Doctor's face didn't change, however, even as he left the room. Goodbye, Doctor. It was only then that Jack glanced down at the paper in his hand.
[His name is Alonso]
A body had filled the stool beside him. A uniformed body. Well. This could be interesting. Jack's face broke into a grin. Maybe the Doctor could be forgiven for leaving him all those years ago, for leaving him now. Just maybe. He turned to the young man beside him.
"Alonso?"
"Yeah...how did you know my name?" The tired young face broke from the stoic expression it had held before. The Doctor may have known his name, but Jack was going to find out everything else about him. Everything.
Jack grinned, his head tipping slightly to one side. "Well" He replied, "I'm a little psychic" Alonso looked a little confused, but Jack could see the interest mingled within. He tended to get that reaction, regardless of what he actually did. "Do you know what I'm thinking?" Jack gave a knowing smile. Whether or not Alonso actually believed him wasn't the point. He had a captive audience now. He might have been a little rusty (he hadn't actually used the psychic trick for over a century now, but he was sure it was like riding a bike. You either never forget, or you fell off and got the pretty girl on the corner to throw you a pity hand– everything was an opportunity so far as he was concerned) but he was going to have fun with this one.
"Oh, yeah"