All was quiet that night as Jack Harkness found his way back to Earth. It had been ten years since he had run away and gone to explore the universe as he had before his days in Torchwood.
Torchwood.
The name still ran shivers down his spine. It wasn't the name itself that he hated; it was the memories attached to it. Torchwood, the place he had joined without any choice. Torchwood, the place he had made and lost so many friends. Torchwood, the place that had taken Dr. Owen Harper, genius Toshiko Sato, and archivist Ianto Jones's lives away from them at such a young age.
Of course, Ianto Jones meant more to him than anyone else. Ianto Jones, a man who died in the line of duty. Jack still couldn't forgive himself for that. If it hadn't been for him, Ianto Jones might still be alive and breathing today. Same with Tosh and Owen, however, he didn't feel the same sting. Ianto had died so young, and come to find out, he hid himself from everyone at Torchwood Three.
But he had left that life behind. He pulled himself out of that rut before he lost anyone else. Last time he had been on earth, he had seen Gwen and she was six months pregnant. Her kid would be born and growing by now.
Jack popped his back as he breathed in the cool night air. He was back in Cardiff, as painful as he found it. It wasn't actually where Ianto died, though Tosh and Owen did, but everything he saw reminded him of the young man. Ianto might have started a new life in London, and lost it there as well, but he did most of his living in Cardiff, under the watchful eye and constant protection of the Captain himself. And yet, when it mattered, even Jack couldn't save him.
He started walking down the bay, where he had been dropped off. Ferries and boats were just starting to come in, finishing up their last runs of the day. Night was blanketing the sky, a silver moon rising higher into the star-filled night.
He smelled the salt in the air, the wind whipping up off the fridge waters. His pace slowed almost to a stop as he came up on a little wooden door on the bay, built into the side of a walkway. For a fleeting moment, he thought of going inside. However, the lump in his throat and the way his mouth dried out told him he probably shouldn't. Still, who would know? Whoever was there now probably wouldn't recognize him. Probably.
He stopped, standing there and just looking. He wanted to know, and at the same time, he dreaded what he might find in there. How bad could it be? Well, bad enough. Still, he wanted to see.
Reluctantly, he made his way over to the wooden door. The outside still looked like he remembered it. It still looked like it was a tourist shop. New door though. New wood on the passageway. Someone obviously rebuilt after the explosion. He remembered that vividly. Being in the middle of an explosion, literally, is not something easy to forget. He wondered if the Hub had been rebuilt along with it.
He noted there was a sign overhead, proudly announcing that this was a "Tourist Information" shop. Ianto would've hated that. Big and gaudy. The young man he knew and loved would never want anyone to notice him.
Opening the door, he heard the tinkle of a little bell. Looking around, he noticed that this shop looked better kept than the one he remembered. The wood was newer, fresher. It made sense in his head, and yet, he still longed for that musky smell of the old wood. Everything on the counter was in neat piles and groups, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it. Ianto always had a system; he knew where everything was at all times, and he organized everything on the desk down to the last detail. The beads to the back office had not been replaced with new beads. Instead, it was another wooden door, which currently stood open. There was a small window beside it, looking into the office. The glow of a screen eerily filtered out into the room Jack stood in now. There was a map on the wall by the door, but no bulletin board. Jack remembered Ianto had one of those when he ran the shop. Still, on the back wall, beside a large map of all the United Kingdom, was a whiteboard with black scrawls on it. Jack could make out only half the writing.
A man came out from the office as Jack looked around more.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his young voice thick with the accent of a native Welsh man.
Jack looked over at him in surprise. This man was young too, no older than twenty-five or twenty-six. He was wearing blue jeans that ended in black boots. Underneath his black blazer was a red t-shirt and a silver chain and medallion bearing the symbol of Wales. He stood only about as high as Jack's shoulder with inquisitive hazel eyes. There was a bit of stubble gracing his face, matching the natural dark color of his short, brown, spiky hair.
"We're just about closed," he added, looking at the watch face on the bottom of his wrist.
"Oh, sorry," Jack flashed a smile. "I didn't realize the time. Last time I was here, this place was a pit, literally." He made a motion imitating an explosion.
"Oh, yes," he nodded. "They started to rebuild it soon after the explosion, since this is such a big tourist spot. They finally finished the work in late 2010. I was put here shortly after. Been working here ever since."
"I suppose it has been a while since I've been in Cardiff. What was your name?"
"Me? Oh, my name is Clyde. Connor Clyde at your service," he smiled.
"Well, good to meet you, Connor Clyde," Jack grinned, walking out of the tourist shop. "Sorry for keeping you. Have a good night."
Connor Clyde was about to go back into the office, but then his eyes widened as he realized he recognized that man. He had never seen him before, just heard stories and seen pictures, but he knew him from the paper and documents he saw.
"Wait!" he called, running to the door. "Captain Jack! Captain Jack Harkness! Wai-" he ran out onto the bay, coming to a stop, "-it…"
The mysterious man in the great coat was gone like a ghost. Just a whisper in the night, and he wondered if he had imagined it all.