I met him for the first time when I was five, looking out of my bedroom window at the night sky. He was rushing across the roof tops, almost flying, the coat of a soldier billowing out behind him. He paused on a chimney and sniffed the air. I knew he was hunting, whether I or something else be his prey.
I could see his eyes, gleaming in the moonlight, reflecting deep shadows that I realised were not from the surroundings but from the man. There were no shadows to reflect.
His hair was fluttering gently, following the tides of the wind. He was perfectly balanced, needing no support to remain standing. He stood tall and raised his eyes to the sky.
I was captured, both with fear and wonder. To leap from roof to roof, to be truly free, to hunt and run with the wind, flowing wherever its will takes you. But his very being sent shivers down my spine. For one to leap from roof to roof, in the dead of night, with no one but a boy to watch, was not normal. And children of five feared things that did not fit in.
That was why as he turned towards me I ducked down, hiding from this strange man and his glittering heart. Cowering beneath my window to shield myself from his piecing gaze.
When I rose he was gone. But I had witnessed something great that night. And the first piece of my soul had flitted into place.
I saw him again when I was seventeen. I had long lost the memory of damp rooftops and shining moons to the common sense of a young adult that no such man could have existed.
He also did not recognise me. We would have passed each other by had I not seen my friend across the street and crossed his path to reach the other side.
I noted again that his eyes were so bright and reflecting shadows even now, though in bright daylight with nothing to reflect.
He looked so… different to the people around him. So out of place that he was almost perfect. He walked through the streets as if he owned them, not walking quickly or sure but he had a sense of leadership, of command.
For the first time in my life I met his eyes. I must admit I was thrown. They were abysses. Deeper than the deepest pool and blacker than the raven's beak. He returned my gaze and I hurriedly moved onto my friend.
When I turned back he was gone. And I felt like I had missed something even greater. That part of my soul slowly slipped away.
I saw him again just weeks after Canary Wharf. I had tracked him down, determined to work for him and Torchwood. When I saw him fighting, the childhood memory returned. This was what he had been hunting all those years ago. Sniffing the air and tasting the scent of his prey.
When I showed him my reason for being here, my reason I continued living, it was astounding.
When he hired me I though my heart would break. I had finally found someone worth living for. Someone who could replace Lisa and replace that part of my soul.
But I couldn't take it.
Not yet. Not with Lisa lying down in the depths of Torchwood defenceless.
Not now.
When I finally let him in it ended just the way I thought it would. With loss and betrayal.
Because Jack, however much he swore he loved me. However much he promised he would never leave me, never stray. I knew the truth.
He couldn't wait to return to the stars.
And that would break my soul.