Standard disclaimers apply. This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own any of the copyrights.

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"He doesn't mind the quiet now. Have you noticed that?" Ianto asked Gwen. "Before Grey and John and Cardiff about to be destroyed, the quiet times made him nervous."

Gwen sipped her pint and nodded. "I'm sure constantly dying for two thousand years would do that to a person. All he had was death and himself. He was forced to get used to having nothing else there. That or go mad."

Ianto stopped tearing off the soggy bits of his bar napkin and looked at his co-worker. "Do you think he did?"

"Did what?"

"Do you think he went mad?" Ianto couldn't meet Gwen's eyes as he asked the question. He was ashamed for even asking it, but the words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could catch himself. It was obvious that Ianto had thought quite a bit about this very topic.

Gwen had no answer for him. Personally, she couldn't fathom what being completely alone would do to a person for a week, never mind millennia. Throw the fact that Jack couldn't die into the mix and his sanity would have certainly taken a beating. Grey, Jack's murderous, long-lost brother, had buried him under the future city of Cardiff with the sole purpose of driving Jack mad. Did Grey get what he wanted? Gwen wasn't sure. No one in Torchwood had been acting "normal" since Tosh and Owen had died.

She sighed. "I just don't know. I hope not." This wasn't quite the answer Ianto was hoping for. He needed Gwen to be optimistic. He needed to be reassured that everything, that Jack, would be all right. He didn't need any more uncertainty to be added to his own doubts. He didn't want to doubt his friend, his lover, yet here he was, sniffling into a pint that had long ago gone flat.

"Come here." Gwen pulled her friend closer and let him lean on her shoulder. "I cried yesterday. It's your turn." Ianto's sniffling slowly turned into a slow stream of tears as Gwen made soothing noises. "All we can hope for is that some higher power showed him mercy somewhere along the way. Maybe he couldn't feel a thing."

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Jack felt everything. He had died and revived at least two hundred and sixty times since his brother Grey and ex-lover John had buried him in the foundations of future Cardiff. He felt every painful breath that wrenched him from death, every sharp intake that was clogged with rock and dirt, every insect that crawled over his flesh looking for a feast. He felt the panic flood his mind as he realized where he was and what had happened. And he felt the utter despair as he felt his body slowly die all over again. He didn't even have time to wonder what was happening to his team now that Grey had them all to himself.

However the two hundred and sixty-first time was decidedly different. As Jack woke gasping for air, his lungs were free and he could actually breathe. His mind scrambled to understand why this time around was different. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, knowing that they should be unable to open with all the dirt weighing down on him.

When Jack found out he could open his eyes, he was even more surprised that a lovely pair of violet eyes stared back at him. He blinked, and forced himself to blink again. Nope, the eyes were still there, laughing at some secret Jack was not privy to. They belonged to a teenage girl, dressed all in black. She almost reminded him of Gwen, if she had gone through a goth phase in her youth.

"Hi, R--! Or should I say, Jack. You prefer Jack now, right?" She bounced on the heels of her feet like a certain Time Lord he knew.

"How do you know my real name?" He had expected his voice to be hoarse after screaming into dirt for what seemed like forever, yet it still had it's normal timbre. "Are you a Time Agent?"

The goth girl laughed. "Hardly! And the reason I know who you are is because I was there when you got it. I know everybody. And I know what Grey's done. Is doing. I could never get the hang of verb tenses with time travel."

"Then send me back!" Jack sprang to his feet and advanced on the girl. "If you have the power, send me back. My team's in trouble!"

"Yeah, that's the thing," the girl said. "I don't have that power. Maybe Destiny does, but he has this whole 'by the book' attitude, and he won't help, just watch as things unfold. Technically, you're still down there." She pointed to the mound of dirt Jack had been sitting on. "You're about to choke on the same clod of dirt again."

Jack looked as his burial mound, then back at the girl. This wasn't making any sense."Then how am I--?"

"How are you up here talking to me? Well, I'm doing you a favor, since I'm the face you see more than anyone else." She held out a slender hand to shake Jack's. "I'm Death, by the way.