I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood or any of the characters mentioned in this story. No copyright infringement is intended. WARNING - contains no Torchwood spoilers, but some for DW 'Boom Town'. Also, remember this is Torchwood - contains bad language from the start (mentioning no names, Owen) and a not-so-subtle Jack/Ianto undertone (I've got my fingers tightly crossed for Season Two). Also, the story is un-betaed, so there may be mistakes. It's my first Torchwood fic (first Who-niverse, actually), and my first post on Hope you like.


Jack had been watching her for months, knew what was coming, but somehow he was still taken aback when he looked at the calendar.
"Crap!"
He'd always known he had to get them out whilst this went on. There would be too many questions, for a start. And they would interfere.
"Something wrong, Jack?" Ianto asked from near the coffee machine.
Jack hadn't even realised that he'd left the office door open so that he could discretely ogle Ianto's perfect backside.
"Just got a communiqué from Torchwood One," he said with a sigh, slipping in to his pre-constructed excuse. "They want us to have another look for Four."
"For fuck's sake!" Owen exclaimed from the main Hub. "When will they get the message? No one knows where it was in the first place."
Jack emerged from his office and stood on the balcony overlooking his team's workstations.
"Yvonne reckons it may be in Belfast," Jack said. "Or possibly Dublin."
"Yvonne fucking Hartman," Owen ranted, "thinks she owns us. Can't you tell her to shift her own team's lazy arses this time? No way am I going to fucking Ireland."
"You'll like it, Owen," Ianto said, winking at Jack as he started to distribute coffees. "They have lots of pubs."
Jack watched Ianto's perfect figure descend the stairs, and considered once again finding out exactly which side the Welshman's bread was buttered on. The kid was only twenty-five, but Jack had long ago ceased to worry about how much older than his conquests he was. There would be no one left to shag if he did.
"What do you think, Suze?" Owen said, turning to their silent colleague, who had, up until then been engrossed in their newest alien artefact, a strange-looking metal gauntlet.
"They have a lot of pubs in Dublin," Suzie confirmed to her part-time lover. She didn't even take her eyes from the glove as she spoke.
"I think he meant about Torchwood Four," Ianto said gently as he placed a steaming mug on the corner of her desk furthest from where she was working.
Suzie finally looked up from her work and took the coffee, throwing a grateful smile at Ianto as she did so.
"It seems likely," she said. "The known bases are in England, Scotland and Wales; it would be sensible to assume that there would be one in Ireland, too."
"Ireland isn't part of Britain," Owen pointed out.
"Don't they teach history in school any more?" Jack asked him, finally tearing his eyes from Ianto's behind. "Ireland used to be one country, part of the British Empire, until 1921, when it was split in two. Ireland became a free state, and Northern Ireland stayed as part of the UK. Now, Torchwood was founded in 1879, so the office could have been in Dublin, or moved to Belfast after the partition."
"Could be why it disappeared," Ianto pointed out. "If it was still in Dublin, it would have been cut off from the rest of Torchwood in 1921."
"Very good point." Jack beamed at the young man. "You've all got your passports and your overnight bags?"
There were various grumblings of assent.
"I'll see you in a few days, then. I'll sort out your tickets when you're on your way."
"What about you, sir?" Ianto asked in surprise. Jack never, ever passed up an opportunity to leave the Hub.
Jack shrugged. "Someone has to stay, keep an eye on the Weevils. Plus, it'll be good for you to rely on someone else for a change. Now, go."

It was only five minutes after they left, seconds after Jack had passed the flight details on to Suzie, that Jack heard the achingly familiar sound of the TARDIS, materialising above him. Every fibre of his being wanted to rush up there and see them again, after so long, but sense won out. Jack was already there, in Roald Dahl Plass. A much younger and more carefree Jack who had no idea what was about to happen to him. For him, it was only days until the events on the Gamestation, where he would die and be resurrected. What if…? What if he stepped in now, told them what would happen, stopped it?
No. Jack knew he couldn't prevent the events from happening; he knew what happened when you interfered with time. It was the same reason he never introduced himself to the young Rose Tyler, back in London. He would have to be patient, wait for an older version of the Doctor to visit.

Jack watched from the top of the Millennium Centre, watched Rose and Mickey wander away, looking for a hotel they would never find; watched the Doctor taking Margaret for her last meal. He felt the Earth move as the Rift became active and blue flames shot from the TARDIS, watched the Doctor and Margaret return. The Doctor turned sharply at the doorway, looked straight up to the roof. Jack pulled away from the edge, hoping the Doctor hadn't seen him. Admittedly, the Doc knew enough not to mention anything if he had recognised Jack, but all the same, Jack didn't like the idea of doing anything to corrupt his own timeline.
Finally, after countless minutes, the shaking and the light stopped as suddenly as it had started. Rose re-emerged from the TARDIS at a run, then return more slowly, and the engines started up. That sound would haunt Jack until the end of time, the sound of the Doctor leaving him behind. Again.

"Well, that was an excellent use of our time!" Owen announced sarcastically as he collapsed into his chair, looking worse for wear after three days away.
"Something go wrong?" Jack asked, looking closely for injuries.
"He's hung over," Ianto explained in an undertone. Jack nodded his understanding.
Suzie dropped her bag onto her desk, an expression of extreme annoyance on her face.
"So, you didn't find it, then?"