My name is Captain Jack Harkness. I've been immortal ever since I was resurrected by Rose Tyler. I am over 1000 years old, born in the 51st century, but went back in time to the 1800s. I was tortured by two female Torchwood agents to find out why I couldn't die. They eventually gave me my freedom, as long as I agreed to work for Torchwood. And Torchwood is where I have been since then. But now it is time for me to die.
Ianto. Dead. Tosh. Dead. Owen. Dead. How many more must die? Gwen. Living. Jack. Living. Only two, only two living members left of Torchwood. What a waste. A waste of good people. The world seemed lonely without them, it seemed downheartened wihout them, it seemed quiet without them. Jack seemed lonely too. Gwen seemed downheartened too. Rhys seemed quiet too. Rhys spent more time in Torchwood 3's Hub now. He was concerned for his wife, he didn't want to be without her love, ever. Jack wanted something special like that. Flickers of that love appeared between him and Ianto, but Ianto was taken from him before that love could develop.
But maybe something could let them be together again, not the Resurrection Glove, no, that was long gone, but what if Jack died...maybe they could be together in the 'afterlife', whatever that was. Just maybe, Jack could die. Maybe.
Rhys was sat in the Hub, alone as always, waiting for Gwen to finish her meeting with Jack. He always felt awkward when he was there, he wasn't part of Torchwood, his wife was. He wasn't anything special, she was. Despite not being part of anything, he still felt as if he could do something that people would recognise. He wanted to save the world, or at least help save the world. And he really didn't want to loose Gwen, she was his whole world.