I walk along the city street,
You use to walk along with me
And every step I take recalls
How much in love we use to be
Oh how can I forget you
When there is always something there to remind me
Always something there to remind me
Song by Dionne Warwick
Jack Harkness was tired of America, especially L.A. – the clubs were filled with too many women with fake boobs and super sweetened booze. So, when he got an Instagram of Anwen trying to give her baby brother a bottle, he decided to finally take Gwen and Rhys up on their long-standing offer to visit their new home in Swansea, an hour from Cardiff. If he drove the M4 fast enough, he could avoid seeing the Hub and all the memories that came with it. As he packed his duffle bag with a few shirts, pants, and odds and ins then looked around the rank motel he'd called "home" for the past year, he wondered if he'd ever return. Then, walking out the door, he answered his own question – Bad thing about being immortal reason number 329: you tend to see the same places over and over again. He chuckled at his own joke (no one else was around to laugh after all) and headed to the front desk to drop off his room key for the last this go around. Ms. Hobbs, the slightly plump middle-aged woman behind the desk asked hopefully, "Coming back?"
"Not likely anytime soon, hon," Jack tossed out. He stopped himself from heading directly to the door, turned around, and walked back to the front desk. Ms. Hobbs had been kind to him since he'd moved in a few months after what the Institute folk were calling the "Miracle Day". When he'd arrived, he was emotionally battered, often looking worse than he did during his moments of mortality. She would come by every once and while with her "mother's chicken soup" and great stories of her days as a dancer in Vegas. Some of those stories were funny, others sad, but they were always entertaining. To hear her tell it, she had met, danced for, partied with or screwed "half of Hollywood" and whoever she hadn't "weren't worth being bothered with". Jack believed her – from picture album alone, she was once a "milk chocolate beauty" that drugs slowly ruined. Luckily, before she spent it all away on men and cocaine, she got clean and bought the motel – "I know, it's a dump but it's my dump," she'd always say.
"Where're headed?" she asked.
"Swansea. It's in the UK," he answered. "Some friends of mine have been asking me to visit." He thought for a moment, then asked, "Hey, why don't you come with me. My friends have a new baby."
"To England? Pshaw!" she lied. "I don't have any use for those snooty folks. Anyway, who's gonna watch my place?"
Jack suspected she knew he wasn't coming back and their relationship wouldn't fit in where life took him next. She was probably right. "I'm going to miss you Minnie," he said using her Christian name.
She noticed the tear in his eye but she didn't want him to know how much it meant to her. "Ah, you're young and cute! You'll tag someone soon and forget all about me."
Jack grabbed her about the shoulder and pulled her close for a big kiss and hug. Then he said, "Someone once said I'd forget about him too and I haven't. That's the problem. I never forget."
He turned on his heels and left. If he bothered, he would have seen how what he said took ten years off that woman's face.
Jack's travel to the Williams' was a huge success by his accord. He arrived without being stopped by the local constabulary and successfully avoided seeing anything connected to the Hub or Torchwood. He wasn't so fortunate when he arrived at the house. He pulled into the driveway and saw two parked cars – he immediately realized he'd been ambushed. One car was clearly U.N.I.T. issued while the other was a black SUV. He got out of his modest rental and was besieged by Martha Jones-Smith and her husband Mickey.
"Jack!" she said hugging him close. "It is so good to see you."
Mickey came up and shook his hand, "Wow mate! It has been a while. We've missed you." Mickey added, "I know we've been off the radar, traveling with the Doctor, you know. I'm really sorry we missed Ianto's funeral." Jack hoped that Mickey didn't see him flinch. "Gwen told us all about what happened."
"Mickey!" Martha nudged her husband, as if he'd made a social forepaw at some fancy cocktail party. "You'll never guess whose here," she redirected.
"Rabbi Aliyah?" Jack was less than thrilled at seeing his old Time Agency teacher. If she was here, it was because Gwen was worried about his mental health. "Is Sarah with her?" he asked Martha.
"Yes and you'll never guess. She five months pregnant!"
"Ah marvelous," responded Jack – Sarah was Aliyah's partner. The two of them had been together since Aliyah's husband died in America's 911 and had been the family's bodyguard before that time, she resigned from a special forces unit. "Is she doing well?"
"Geeze, I've never seen such a fit pregnant woman!" Mickey answered. "I pity the aliens trying coming through the Tel Aviv rift."
They entered the house. It was much more suburban than he'd imagine. But since Rhys had convinced Gwen to leave Torchwood aside after she became pregnant again, Jack figured that she was due for something settled like this. It was large too, easily three or four bedrooms which made Jack wonder how many children the two were planning on. He saw Gwen down the long hallway at the kitchen doorway holding a giggling baby who looked to be about four months old. Rhys was standing behind her with Anwen on his shoulders. She had to be three or so now, Jack thought. Everyone laughing – a real Kodak moment.
A familiar voice from behind him softly said, "You've always been a sucker for babies, Harkness." It was the Aliyah.
"Did you use your telepathic powers to determine that?"
Aliyah came in front of him and, standing on her toes, kissed his cheek. She looked the same as the last time he saw her for she was also an immortal – however, she had obtained her's honestly. Some people from her planet, Jershun Prime, had immortality as a recessive gene. Over the century or so that they'd know each other, she had tried to be a friend and mentor, always there when he needed her, even if he didn't want her. "You wound me, Jack. Just wound me."
"I'm sure you'll heal," he grinned, letting her know he wasn't too upset about seeing her. "So, I hear Sarah's pregnant. Congrats. Is she excited?"
"In her usual quiet way," Aliyah answered. "I brought her here in part to force her to slow down. The doctors really wanted her on bedrest."
"Things not going well?"
She looked around to make sure Sarah was not in earshot before said in a hushed voice, "This is our third attempt."
"She should stop hating on me – use that energy toward being pregnant!"
"Oh, Jack." Aliyah shook her head, her dreads wiggled like they were in agreement with her. She took his hand. "How are you?"
"Again, I ask what does your telepathy say? I mean why have such powers if you don't use them all the time?"
She shook her head some more and gave him a concerned look. "Gwen told me about what happened in the States. You took on too much tragedy back to back." She rubbed his hand as if doing so would bring him strength. "Maybe being here amongst friends will help some, eh?"
He gave her hand back. "I doubt it." He realized how harsh that sounded. "I'm sorry, I feel a bit ah, . . . "
"Ambushed, yes I understand, "she said. She took his hand again, but more firmly this time.
He noticed how her brown skin contrasted against his pale fingers. She seemed like she was going to say something else when Gwen came up with the children.
Gwen looked good – content as only happy family people can. He was happy for her and, yes, Aliyah was right, more than a bit jealous. While she and even Rhys hugged him and introduced him as "the Uncle Jack we told you about", he couldn't suppress a memory fighting its way into his consciousness. It was one night he and Ianto went to Ianto's flat instead of returning to Hub after one of their weekly Weevil hunts. Fuck, Jack thought to himself. Here it goes again!
"Where have you got me lodged, Gwen?" Jack asked abruptly.
Initially stunned, Gwen stepped back a bit but then realized that Jack was having a flashback. He had been having them for some years now and that gaunt, ashy look on his face was a tell-tale sign. "Oi, guys! Let's not crowd the man – long flight and all. You must be tired, have jet lag." She nodded at Aliyah, who clearly recognized the signs as well. "Come on, I'll show you the room we fixed for you." Gwen took him to the attic that was nicely redone as a guest room. "You've always loved the tops of buildings. Sorry but this is the highest you're going to get around here!"
He dropped the duffle bag on the full-size bed. "It looks great, Gwen," he said. "Thanks, really."
Gwen gave him a big, long hug. "It's good to see you Jack. We were kinda worried."
He pulled himself away. "Who me? I'm fine, always in all ways!" he lied.
Gwen let it pass. "I'll leave you to yourself for a while. The grown up bathroom is downstairs to the right. We're having tea around 5:30 but if you're not ready, I'm sure the others would understand."
"Thanks Gwen."
She paused, wondering if there was anything else she could say that would make things better but knowing there wasn't. "Jack, really, it is good to see you. All of us have missed you." Before he could come up with another emotive lie, she left the room, closing the door behind her.
Jack, flopped on the bed, struggling to find a way to stave off the oncoming flashback. He hadn't had one in a while but, he reckoned, coming here was likely to bring at least one or two. He had found the best way to deal with them, if he couldn't stop it ahead of time, was to follow it through – fighting them, he found led to endless, fruitless suicide attempts – each more morally lethal than the previous. He only stopped when, after a particularly nasty bout, he drunk Skyped Aliyah. She listened to his moans and crying for hours until he admitted what he had been doing. She then reminded him of how similar his behavior was to a cutter, someone who slice at their skin, sometimes severely, just to feel something or as a way to punish themselves.
"What are you punishing yourself for Jack?" she asked.
"How would you like that list, alphabetical or numerical by order of importance?" he slurred.
"Start wherever you'd like."
Jack took it as a challenge, "Alright then." With the anger of an adolescent getting back at a parent, he plunged into the list, starting with losing his brother. But after confessing a few transgressions, the whole thing lost its luster.
Aliyah sighed and looked at him through the Internet with eyes so piercing, she might as well have been actually sitting in the room. "Harkness, this isn't about your need to confess, at least not to confess to me. It's about the regret that you didn't confess to him - that you missed the opportunity to share your sadness with someone you only now realize would not only have been willing to listen but would have still loved you afterwards."
There is nothing worse than having a psychic mentor who dual doctorate was in Talmudic scholarship and intergalactic psychology, thought Jack.
That night Aliyah taught him a couple of meditations for managing his rageful fits and flashbacks – a way to let the memories roll over without killing him. It didn't work all the time - he would have to catch things before he was flooded by emotions. She must have told Gwen, considering how quickly Gwen rushed him to this guest room. Those two were always conspiring to help him.
This particular technique was good when he could tell the memory was of good times. Mentally press "play" and let it roll like some art house film, like something that happening to someone else:
Telling Ianto, one late Friday afternoon, once the others had left for the weekend, that they were going for Weevil hunt was a ruse. Ianto had been avoiding Jack, ignoring Jack for weeks now and Jack was wound tight. Jack was surprised when Ianto acquiesced, half expecting the young man would find some way to back out, particularly considering how things always turned out at the end of the evening. This night was even more surprising – there had been no Weevil sighting for the last three weeks, not that that every stopped them before.
The two drove around in silence for about an hour before Ianto said, as if giving up the pretense, "I've got some lamb at my flat that I can defrost." Jack made a sharp U-turn, nearly running over a mother with a tram.
Jack played it smart – instead of ravaging Ianto all the way up the stairs to his flat (once scandalizing Ianto downstairs landlady by asking if she wanted to join), he simply followed Ianto up and offered to help Ianto chop onions.
"Are you deliberately trying to fuck with me Jack?" responded Ianto as he took off his coat and shoes and pointed Jack to where he should store his on a nearby rack.
Normally, Jack would violate Ianto's OCD, neat-freak house rules but not this time. After putting things in their place, he went to the entertainment center. "Chopin or Haydn?"
"Handel is already cued."
Jack pressed the power button. Then, he grabbed the bottle of scotch from an inside pocket of his coat – an 18-year old Glenlivet, Ianto's favorite. Jack grabbed two double shot glasses from the china cabinet and went into the kitchen.
Jack put everything on the cooking island, opened the scotch and poured a generous in both glasses. Ianto looked over from the sink where he was starting to prepare the lamb. "Should I leave this for another time and just order fish-n-chips?" Ianto asked sarcastically.
Jack was initially taken aback by the harshness of Ianto's tone. "Could you remind me how I have been an ass this time?"
Ianto dropped the lamb in the sink in disgust. "Really?" Ianto yanked off the rubber gloves he was wearing. If he was a Black girl, his head would have been bobbing, "You have to be kidding me?" He sucked in air in the room before saying then let it all out. "Am I just some creature you fuck when convenient to you? If that's the case, you know, you don't have to ply me with expensive liquor. I'm sure you don't do that to the other silly cows you're screwing!"
"You're my special silly cow," Jack said simply.
That stunned Ianto, slowed his anger but not completely. "You know. I am a human being . . . ." from that point everything Ianto said was muffled.
But Jack's heart was rising to his mouth. He didn't know how to apologize so he just grabbed a ranting Ianto and kissed him harshly on the lips. And once Jack could feel Ianto's body loosen, Jack moved his kisses to Ianto's neck. Once Jack figured Ianto was ready to hear it, he whispered, "What can I do to make you happy right now?"
About twenty-two things moved across Ianto Jones forehead, like a BBC news crawl. But he settled on one question. "Am I your boyfriend?"
Jack stepped back, which broke his grip and made Ianto smile. Match point, Ianto Jones - Jack hadn't expected that one. But if he wanted to play that game, Jack had the comeback. "Yes," Jack said plainly.
Bad idea. "Okay, then let's set some ground rules here," responded a newly confident Ianto Jones and he set on a grocery list of "dos and don'ts" that boiled down to one theme, this was going to be an exclusive relationship.
Jack found he didn't mind this idea so he let Ianto run through his list of demands while they cooked the lamb dinner. And after eating, they fucked until the early morning when Ianto insisted on getting up to go to the market for fresh eggs for breakfast.
Suddenly, a car backfired, disrupting Jack's meditation. His eyes shot open and his mind forced him to go look out the window. He couldn't find the source of the noise but across the street he noted a lone figure – a skinny young man who stared at a pocket watch, then put it back in his pocket. The young man looked up at the window, right in Jack's face in a stare that, at that distance, said one thing.
I'm going to kill you.
That was the first time since America that Jack thought he could actually die and it wasn't a good feeling.