The Tale of Ole' Jack Bearskin
Written by Kathryn Hampson, Adapted from the German Tale 'Bearskin' by the Brothers Grimm
It was a cold, dark night when the naval boats finally tugged into the bay. A harsh wind whipped at the faces of those disembarking down the gangplanks and onto British ground – for the first time in two years. The sky was a rich black, filled with ghostly shapes of clouds, and in the far distance the winking figures of stars. The weary men waited, tired and aching on the dockland structure awaiting orders from higher command. These men varied greatly in race, build and age but one thing was common amongst them – they were all soldiers who had fought bravely in the biggest war the world had seen in a long time. As they huddled together, soaking up every ounce of warmth they could, the men tried to push all thoughts of the bloodshed and horrors to the back of their mind, and instead conjure up images of the families they had returned too. Eventually a general joined them, the last to leave the old and rusty craft. He too looked about in wonder at having made it through alive, before clearing his throat and speaking.
"Gentlemen. Today we return victorious to our homeland. Come, we will make our way to the collection points where you may leave and celebrate with your loved ones. I am pleased to say that your terms of duty are now over, and we, the British Empire thank you" His voice strangely loud against the dull silence that previously had been infiltrated only by the lapping sea waters. A few feeble cheers rung out, voices which had been used to shouting commands that could have meant life or death, and others clapped their hands together in a grateful effort. They stood as one large throng, and moved off, out of the dock gates and down the winding street towards the town centre. Few actually came from this place, an industrial town called Cardiff, but it was linked up well with the rest of the country by roads, boats and trains. It would be easy for them to travel the last distance home from here.
They rounded a last corner and suddenly the mood lightened immediately. Packed tightly into the shadowy town square were hundreds of people, all smiling thankfully at the return of the soldiers. Women, children and older men stood together, beginning to clap and cheer at the new sight. All thoughts of any residents being asleep in the nearby area were instantly forgotten. The men surged to join the crowd and search out their welcome party, huge smiles and wide eyes all around. Every inch of exhaustion evaporating for later.
One man, younger than most hung back a little way. Unlike the others his eyes were full of sorrow and bitterness, of endless pain. His long woollen overcoat clung to him, fighting off some of the chill that dared try and fill the man's already frozen heart. Jack Harkness had fought in the front lines, had seen the true meaning of a gory war, but had held out because he knew that someone so important was waiting for his return. He had held onto his sanity whilst many around him went mad, unable to stand the violence. All because his fiancée Estelle would be at their home in the country, praying and hoping that he would make it back safe, make it back alive. But she needn't have worried about him, but herself instead. Jack had just been about to board the homeward bound ship, the H.M.S Hope, when he received the dreadful letter. He had expected it to be from his love, writing back to his own message of joy at the war being finished, but the young man did not recognise the formal handwriting. Instead of being full of joy, it was the bearer of the worst news. Estelle had died of a heart condition, brought on through endless worry. And as Jack imagined her beautiful face, her deep blue eyes and long blonde hair, he saw it now with the sheen that only death would bring. Her eyes would be clouded over, the ivory skin mottled and the hair tangled, coarse and rough. And although not a man for crying, he had broken believing that her death must surely have been his fault.
The only thing that had succeeded in making him return home was his fellow soldiers, his friends begging him to do so. They promised he would see his family and that they would comfort him and he would happy again. Jack had agreed, but only to please them, and in doing so make sure no one else worried about him. He had put on false pretences of excitement during the journey, hiding his true feelings of sorrow and loss. But here he was, back home in the town of Cardiff, so far from where he had grown up, but still where he had been planning to spend his life with Estelle.
Jack sighed and tugged his small army pack higher on his back before meandering through the smelly, damp alleys and into the square. Most had gone, those living still grinning broadly. He recognised one, the youngest in their squad, boy called Tommy. He was being hugged and kissed all over by his mother and sisters. He waved goodbye to Jack who half raised a hand in return. Tommy had received cards all the time, his relatives not missing one week of writing to him. Jack knew that was what had kept him going. That and the sneaky cigarettes that he was sure the over-fussing women would never find out about. Jack's pale blue eyes scanned the small muddle of people, and failed to recognise anyone who appeared significantly in his life. Namely his mother and his brother, Gray. Jack's father had been a soldier too, and had died when he was much younger, defending his family from invading evils. But there was no sight of them here. Then again, he hadn't expected them to come and greet him. Both had blamed him for his father's death, and besides, Gray had always been mothers favourite even before that. It was just the excuse she had needed to alienate her older son even more. But it was Jack's choosing to marry Estelle, a poor peasant girl which had pushed them to disown him. His mother had always claimed that Jack's handsome looks would catch him a girl of 'breeding' as she put it, and that would lift them out of the slums.
"Tough luck mother" he whispered to himself, small puffs of air appearing before his eyes as his breath mingled with the cold. Jack remembered the night he had packed his bags and left, under that furious gaze of hers. He had only joined the army because the pay was enough to cover the wedding and most of the too young lover's lives. Thinking about it caused a new tear to well up in his eyes, so Jack shrugged it off and set off across the now deserted plaza. Two years had passed, and perhaps that meant things had changed.
Jack knew that someone was home, they couldn't pretend otherwise. An upstairs light was on, showering flickering orange light out onto the street. He had been knocking for about five minutes now, waiting fairly patiently in the grubby alley infornt of the shabby house. It was very small, three storeys but with only one room on each. The architecture of some posh Victorian wanting to squish as many working class people in as possible. Jack remembered the interior all too well and part of him wished he could just go and find a B&B instead. The bed would be scratchy straw and the food pitiful but at least it wouldn't be here. But poor Jack didn't yet even have the money for that kind of hospitality so he could only hope that his family would take him in, even if just for the night. His exhausted body would find new work in the morning. 'No such thing as rest for the wicked' he thought, almost chuckling.
But after having knocked for another five minutes and still not got an answer his mood was now even worse, and the soldier part of him was seriously considering just knocking the door down. He knew very well he could make the two of them do what he wanted, but he had never been that person. Then again, he didn't know what sort of person he was now, post war, post Estelle. Knock, knock knock! He continued to beat the heavy rhythm into the heavy wood door, vaguely aware of blood starting to appear on his knuckles. But then, finally the door swung open to reveal a very angry looking man, who more strikingly was half naked.
"Gray" commented Jack calmly, even if his eyebrows were half raised in question.
"Jack" spat his brother, much less pleasantly. "What do you want?" he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. Jack grimaced; of course he hadn't expected the 'bro, your home! Let's party" spiel but still, this was just unfair.
"Nice to see you too Gray, in fact, to see most of you…" Jack's eyes flicked quickly back up as Gray glanced down and scowled, pulling a pillow cloth a little tighter.
"I have company" his brother said, "So if you don't mind telling me what you want and getting out of here" As if to back up this point a woman called from somewhere in the house, and the voice was much to pleasant to be his mothers.
"Gray. I've just come back from war, I just need somewhere to stay the night and then I'll be out of you and mother's way" Jack was leaning on the door. Gray looked at him, a sudden look of loss crossing his face.
"Mother died a month ago, bubonic plague" his eyes glassed over.
"I'm sorry," said Jack, even if he wasn't. "But Gray, doesn't that mean you can just put this stupid feud behind us? I am family!"
Gray's look of despair vanished in an instant, replaced immediately by anger again,
"Family! You weren't here when she uttered her last breath…"
"I was at war" roared Jack, was his brother deaf as well as stupid?
"Well in my mind it's your fault she died" Gray spat. Something stirred in Jack, a raw manic fury. How could it be his fault that every bloody person died? Next they'd be blaming the death of the king on him for some unrealistic reason. But he bit back his temper.
"Gray, how could it be. I'm sorry I wasn't here, really I am. But I was fighting for our country…for everyone, for you…"
"And that simple bride of yours" sneered Gray, cutting him off. The look on Jack's face must have shocked him because Gray took a step back.
"She's dead" he whispered hoarsely, looking at the floor.
"Good," said Gray, "Perhaps you can get your senses together then." Jack looked as his brother's face, so cold. But he had stepped back, opening the door a little to give Jack access. At this moment a young girl, not particularly pretty dashed up to Gray and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her buck tooth grin widened as she spotted Jack, instantly relinquishing his brother and sliding towards Jack.
"Who's you're friend?" she asked, her voice nasal and irritating.
"My Brother, just come home from war"
"Oh. Is he coming in?" she asked eagerly, and Jack looked up suddenly. His brother's mean face, and her repulsively keen one.
"Yes he is" said Gray looking rather impatient now.
"No he isn't" said Jack suddenly, making Gray's eyes pop. He had made his mind up though, this man wasn't his brother. Sure he shared DNA, but he had no emotional attachment, and he had just passed over the greatest loss of Jack's life with a slight smile.
"WHAT" exclaimed Gray, his fist hitting the door.
"I'm going" Jack turned away, noticing the girl's disappointment.
"You'll starve"
"Fine"
"You always were an idiot" Gray called after his brother's receding figure.
"Bye Gray" Jack muttered, not even flinching as the door slammed.
A five minute walk, a ditch, and an hour of sobbing later Jack was quite sure that his life must surely be over. He had nowhere to go, no one who loved him, no money and no food. Yeh he could go charm some rich bird, but he could never care for her. He punched the small pack that contained only his personal Pocessions - a mug, toothbrush, paste, pack of cards and a picture of Estelle. The frame had been broken for a long time now. Suddenly Jack's face lit up – glass! Shards of broken glass! If he could not live a happy life, then he would not live at all. Sniffing slightly he dug into the bag, and when he felt the sharp, cold material scratch his finger he withdrew it holding on tight. Sniffing a little he eyed the shard. Small droplets of red splatted against it, very much visible in the bright eerie moonlight. Jack pulled his tall body into a crouch and muttered a small prayer. He had never really believed there was something beyond the grave so to speak, but he wanted to believe now. He so wanted to hold onto the idea of Estelle waiting for him, with his father in a happy warm meadow. Wait . . . perhaps that was too soppy? Didn't matter. Jack closed those bright eyes and with one hand pulled the flaps of his thick coat aside to allow the glass free passage into his side. He held his breath, the sound of his beating heart ringing in his ears. And then with a sharp sudden movement he yanked the glass back and plunged.
Jack stopped.
He could hear a strange sound. He opened one eye slowly and cautiously. Surely he couldn't be hearing that - it was the sound of manic laughter. Glaring despite himself Jack stood and brushed some grit off his trousers. No one was going to be openly happy whilst he was busy killing himself. He looked about in the deserted alley, all the lights in the houses off now. Not even animals had been stirring around here, and there had been a record number of rats that year.
"Bravo" said a loud, humorous voice. It was neither deep nor high and therefore Jack couldn't associate it to either a woman or man. But it did had a gravely quality that led him to assume the later. Then there was the sound of slow, patronising clapping and footfalls getting slightly heavier as they neared Jack. The young man stood and scowled angrily around – he was definitely going to have physical words with however dared think his death was funny. Jack was spinning about, still blind to the speaker when suddenly a man appeared in front of him as though from thin air.
The man had a slim build, and wasn't particularly tall. The face was easily comparable to that of a rat, and had bright brown eyes gleaming dangerously out at the bewildered Jack. He was wearing what appeared to be a dull, dry blood red cape and matching bowler hat. Jack could just make out the sharply pointed and curled point of red shoes.
"Nice outfit," tittered Jack, regaining his edge a little. "Fancy dress competition at this hour?" he asked, smirking a little. The rat man scowled and took a step back so that he was no longer in the shadow of Jacks much stronger build.
"You wouldn't be finding it so funny if you knew what it was made out of" he hissed, flourishing the cape, and for a second Jack was sure it looked just like flowing blood. Eugh. His stomach somersaulted with disgust as he realised what the man meant. The speaker was settling himself on the edge of an old trunk that had been abandoned in the street along with various other items of rubble. He surveyed Jack slowly as if evaluating him, a manic glint in the shiny eyes.
"Who are you?" Jack asked, unable to stand much more of the awkward silence. The man laughed the same, strange laugh. It was far from pleasant.
"I have many names" he said, "Some better known than others. I think you know what I mean" Jack did, but then again he didn't believe in such things. No way could this strange little man be the…nope, couldn't even say it.
"What shall I call you?" Jack queried, pacing forward a little, glass still in his hand.
"Owen" he said simply, and it was Jack's turn to laugh.
"The supposed devil is called….Owen!" he managed through strangled cries of mirth. "Gosh I must be hallucinating" Jack rolled his eyes and tried pinching himself and shaking his head - anything to wake up.
"Oh be quiet" Owen snarled, "It's my day off" he added, sounding a little miffed. "I thought it sounded quite good, rather intimidating - but never mind" He jumped up and crossed his arms under the blood cape. Jack had managed to control himself even if he was still sniggering a little.
"So oh great one, why have you chosen to spend your day off in a little back alley in Cardiff?"
"I was bored" said Owen, suddenly evaluating his finger nails, "I wanted to have a little fun at someone else's expense"
"Cos that's what everyone does on their day off," mumbled Jack, going back to his pack and tidying up a little. "If you don't mind, I would quite like to get back to killing myself. I mean, if I succeed and you honestly aren't a very strange hallucination then I will probably be seeing you very soon anyway"
"Not so fast" commanded Owen, and he pulled Jack back by his coat until he landed in an uncomfortable heap by Owen's unpleasant shoes. "I have an offer for you, Jack Harkness"
"Why me?" whined Jack who was really starting to get rather bored with all this. He just wanted to be left alone with his friendly piece of glass.
"Because you amuse me and I want to see if you're tougher than you look at the moment. After all you did survive through a long and brutal war"
"That's it?" Jack asked exasperated.
"Well, and I made a bet with some of the other mythical gods," He explained as if it was an everyday thing, "You'd be really surprised by how good Abadon is at gambling" he added, muttering to himself. Jack made a vacant 'what?' expression and wondered if he was drunk. Surely he had to be. Whilst Jack was trying to recall what he could have possibly managed to scavenge, Owen's curious face swam into view.
"Mr Harkness, I have an offer"
"Fine. What?"
"I am in need of some entertainment, and through this offer you could easily gain back a reputable life…at the end. If you fail, then you die and are, ahmm, doomed to eternal hell but let's ignore that part for now. Just put it this way, you could do very well out of it or you could just die, and considering what you were about to do a minute ago I personally think it sounds like a good deal"
Jack thought about this for a moment, the devil had a point.
"What is this offer?" he asked, teeth gritted. Owen smiled cunningly.
"You have lost everything. I am offering this, a challenge. You look like you could use a challenge. I will make you very rich, with eternal money if…you can go for seven years without washing your hair, cutting your nails, bathing or praying. Oh and you get to wear a pretty little cloak and coat". Owen smiled and petted his own appreciatively, before noticing Jack's skyward eyebrows.
"Hey! Just because I know what to wear! I think it really suits my complexion"
"SO what happens if I manage it?" asked Jack, genuinely interested even if it did sound rather grim.
"You get to keep the money, and you will be free. If you die or fail then you are all mine" Owen leered at him.
"Is that supposed to be intimidating?" asked Jack chuckling a little, and the other man scowled.
"Well?" he huffed.
"Fine" sighed Jack, he had little choice, either way he was going to the devil. Might as well have some fun first. Owen smiled happily,
"Abadon will be so pleased! Here is your coat; you will find the pockets never run out of gold. And here is a cape to wear on top. You cannot take either off"
Owen handed two pieces of material that had just appeared as if from thin air. They were both made of hideous bear skin.
"That?" asked Jack, pointing a finger.
"Oh yes" Owen said, dropping them on Jack. Jack grimaced but removed his own, warm grey one and placed on the bearskin which stank.
"Anything else?" he asked, noticing Owen smirking at the over large fit.
"Oh nothing!" But still he stood there laughing until Jack looked like he might punch him, at which point Owen stopped and said quickly, "Must dash, just enough time for a couple of pints before I have to get home to Janet" and with that thought in mind he groaned, before vanishing into a puff of red smoke.
"Not even so much as a good luck" muttered Jack, "Still, very nice bottom" and with that he settled back into his ditch for the night, throwing the glass away. It shattered into thousands of pieces against the trunk.
So Jack set out, wandering from town to town, village to village, hamlet to hamlet, cave to cave. He talked to whoever didn't run screaming, and gave poor people with his riches so that they would pray that he would survive the seven years. It was a lonely, uncomfortable life. After several years he had grown so hideous and grubby that he had to pay people very heavily to get into a shelter for the night. But the thought of having a normal life at the end spurred him on through the dreadful hardships. He became known by the people who met him as 'Bearskin'.
In the fourth year of his dreadful cursed life which was filled mainly with bottles of alcohol, Jack was walking past a rundown prison. He could hear the sound of pitiful singing, a man lamenting about his life. With nothing better to do, Jack strolled into the prison, the guards turning away from the stench as he entered. It wasn't hard to find the source of the tune. An elderly man, bent double on a stool was singing slowly. All the other residents were humming alone desperately, lain on the floor desolate.
Jack shuffled up to the man and rapped on the black bars with his mud stained knuckles.
"Hey there" he said softly, his voice the one thing which hadn't lost its charm.
"Hello?" asked the man quietly, looking about desperately. That was when Jack noticed the man's eyes were clouded over – he was blind. They chatted for awhile; Jack crouched on the dusty floor beside the man, just the bars between them. He used his charm to persuade the man to tell him his tale, and a sad one it was too. The man, a farmer, had lost all his money and couldn't provide for his children, couldn't pay the rent and had for that reason been sent to jail. Jack took pity on the man, and using some more of his endless gold money bailed out the man, escorted him home and paid off the rent. Finally he handed the man a bag of gold to support him, and set off again. But just before Jack left the man called after him. He wanted to thank him for his kindness by offering up the one thing he could. He offered Jack the hand in marriage of one of his two daughters. Jack declined politely, his heart still taken up by Estelle. But the man insisted that Jack at least come back and meet them, stay for dinner. Jack had wondered at that moment if the man couldn't smell either. But he agreed, it would be good to have some company.
The man lived in a two up, two down farm house with a small amount of land. Jack was shown through to the spacious but cluttered kitchen where the man called for his daughters. Two young women appeared in the doorway.
One, introduced as Gwen, was the older. She was attractive, with long black hair tied back into a ponytail. She was slim and tall, and wearing a red work dress. Her dark eyes narrowed when she saw Jack the hermit.
Toshiko was the younger and very pretty with brown hair, thinner than Gwen's and loose about her shoulders. She was wearing a long skirt and blouse, and sniffed her nose in disgust at the smell of Jack the hermit.
Jack knew he was not welcome amongst them but the old man, whose name was Andy, made his new friend remain. The girls laid the table and cooked a simple meal with a small chicken and a few vegetables. Jack offered to help but they ignored him, Gwen holding a handkerchief over her nose. The family and guest sat down to the meal. Andy looked happy and cheerful, Jack sad and desperate to leave, the two girls agreeing with him. Half way through Andy brought up the topic of engagement. Gwen stood up and ran from the room in horror; Toshiko said she would never even touch such a hideous man who looked just like a savage bear. Andy was disheartened and apologised profoundly, but Jack shushed him. At this point in the midst of the uproar Gwen suddenly returned, a huge smile plastered across her face.
"Dad! He's home!" she called, and she and Toshiko began to dance about the kitchen, totally forgetting their ugly, smelly guest.
Who?" asked Jack, confused. The old man smiled a little, despite the broken promise.
"My youngest child. He has been away at University, so bright! He will bring greatness to his humble family" At this point an attractive Welshman entered the room, a smart suit on, a travelling cloak and a top hat. His pale face had patches of red across his cheeks from the blustery wind. He had a delicate button nose and small sideburns, along with warm brown eyes. Jack smiled despite himself.
"Ianto mi'boy!" cried Andy, standing too quickly. His son rushed to support him, pulling his father into a broad hug.
"Hey dad" his voice was full of soft welsh syllables, comforting and welcome. A huge contrast to the harshness of his sisters, who ran forward to hug their brother. A moment later the girl called Gwen hurried out the door to attend to Ianto's horse, whilst Ianto settled himself at the table. Toshiko lit a fire in the grate, just as Ianto noticed Jack.
"Hello" he said, "Ianto" he offered a hand, not flinching at Jack's grubby one. His father told him what Jack had done for them and Ianto's eyes grew wide. He smiled happily and thanked Jack gratefully. "I always hoped I would be the one to bring richness to them, but I cannot ever see that happening" he looked downcast and sad. Jack placed a hand on his,
"Chin up. I'm sure you're brighter than you give yourself credit for". Ianto looked into the eyes of the run down stranger, they were a bright blue. He smiled, a warm silence filling the room, until Andy broke it.
"Jack"! You must stay the night. Toshiko will make up a bed"
"No father!" she exclaimed, standing quickly. "Neither Gwen nor I shall marry him so why should he stay" The man looked angry and hurt,
"Because he has done us a great good, and he is a friend. And I made him a promise" Jack was about to make a noise, telling the man it did not matter when Ianto spoke instead.
"He asked to marry you?" he directed the question at Toshiko who shook her head violently.
"I said as a thank you for helping me, I would marry him to one of my children" said Andy shaking his head, "I will not break that promise, it is all I have to offer"
Toshiko glared and stamped her foot. Jack knew he would never marry her, he sure didn't want to never mind how pretty she might be,
"I will marry him" said Ianto suddenly, causing everyone to stop breathing in shock.
"What?" said Jack, Andy and Toshiko. Jack's hand was still on Ianto's, and for an unknown reasons Ianto found himself unwilling to let it go. Maybe it was the strangers eyes. He couldn't tell.
"Father should not have to break his promise, and if you too are too stubborn then I will" he sounded determined, if a little nervous.
"But that is…wrong" whispered Toshiko, stepping forward a little.
"Not at all" Ianto said curtly, "Only last week I saw two men together"
"University these days must be very strange" mumbled Andy.
"I will marry you stranger to heed my father's word, if, of course you will take me" Jack was still a little shocked at this man just offering himself up. It was very brave and noble, and Jack wasn't sure if Ianto actually liked him or was just doing as his father had asked.
"Of course" said Jack slowly, and he smiled kindly noticing the lump in Ianto's throat. Toshiko rushed to tell Gwen. Andy added his blessing, even if he did sound a little bewildered. Jack slept in the guest room, tossing and turning from his usual hauntings of dreams – mainly memories of war, and of Estelle – what would she say to this. Probably that she had always known Jack was 'that way inclined' with a bright smile.
Jack left the next day, thanking Andy, briefly touching Ianto's hand and ignoring the girl's wide smirks. As he left he heard them ridiculing Ianto at great length.
Jack wandered alone for the next few years, and slowly all thoughts of Estelle turned into thoughts of Ianto, his bride to be – that made him chuckle. At the end of the seven years the devil re-appeared. When Jack saw Owen he couldn't help but notice how miserable he looked.
"Guess you lost" grinned Jack, patting Owen's back. He twitched away, making a humph sound.
"Abadon is going to tease me for years" he scowled, and took away the coat and cape, "God you stink!" he added.
"You allowed to say 'God' like that?" Jack asked, as he was given a huge bag of money.
"Course I am, I'm the devil" and with that, and a manic glint in those eyes, Owen vanished to find some other poor soul on which to pray.
Jack spent a week bathing, grooming himself and cutting his hair back into its original feathered crop. He bought a nice suit and an old grey greatcoat like the one he had worn in the wars. Then he bought a horse, and galloped all the way to the old man's house. There he was invited in, presumed a weary traveller. No one recognised him, of course they didn't. On seeing the handsome stranger both Gwen and Toshiko ran off and changed into their finest clothes, hoping he might ask them to marry him.
Andy served a brilliant feast, and the old man was sure he recognised the voice but on being told that the guest was a posh gentlemen presumed it could not be his friend Jack. As they sat down to eat, the girls flirted the best they knew how, Andy chattered away and Ianto sat quietly watching the man. He was sure that he knew those bright blue eyes.
Just as the meal came to a close, Jack dropped a beautiful gold wedding ring into a glass of wine and pushed it toward Ianto. Ianto, unaware began to drink the wine until he suddenly felt the ring against his lip. Startled he pulled back and saw it. Looking up, Jack winked at him across the table and Ianto instantly realised who he was.
"Jack?" he asked.
"Of course" his fiancée smiled, and took Ianto's hand. The two girls were so shocked that they promptly toppled off their chairs. The two men married happily, and lived a long life together. Jack never went back to the army, but set up a detective agency with his husband, combining his observatory and fighting skills with Ianto's intelligence and cunning. Every morning they would greet each other with a smile and a cup of coffee – something quite new to Britain at the time but soon to become a firm favourite. Andy died a little while later, but happy in the knowledge that he had fulfilled his promise. Gwen made do with a man called Rhys, who loved her entirely but still the foolish girl could not take her eyes of the handsome Jack whenever she saw him. And Toshiko was cursed with never finding love as she had been so naïve and vain. Gray died quite soon after Jack left, from alcohol poisoning caused by the loss of his dear mother. Owen continued as a very successful devil, but was still occasionally teased to the verge of tears by the triumphant Abadon.
And from her place in that meadow in Heaven Estelle smiled down on Jack and Ianto, happy with his choice. And there she and Jack's dad await their arrival – when it should come.
The End