As he made his way through the crowd, Ifan had the distinct feeling someone was following him. He turned to check and saw nothing but a sea of faces he didn't know. Don't be silly, he thought. Clutching his backpack to his chest a little tighter he continued forward feeling a little bit ridiculous at his unfounded fear.

He saw a small street and rushed toward it. Once he got out of the market and onto regular streets he was sure he could easily find a cab. The street was deserted, there was a row of closed down shops, shacks really along one side and an empty lot on the other. Ifan immediately realized he may have made the wrong choice. He could still hear the steel drums and people of the market, it wasn't too late. No problem. He would just turn back. Suddenly he felt a strong tugging at his backpack. Whipping around he came face to face with a tall man with a sinister grin.

"Give me the bag mister, and you don't get hurt," he snarled.

He reeled back, using the backpack to hit him as hard as he could. He caught the bag mid-air and laughed. "I like when there is spirit boy, but you won't win."

Breathing heavily, he knew it went against everything he had been taught, but his passport and all the money he had in the world was in that bag. And Lisa's serum, all he had left of their research now. He was not giving up without a fight.

"NO!" he yelled, struggling with him to keep hold of the bag. He let out the loudest scream he could muster.

He came toward Ifan with a raised hand. This was it, he thought. This is where I die, fighting over this stupid bag. Still not letting go, he closed his eyes tight, turned his head, and braced himself for the coming blow.

Then as quickly as the man appeared he was gone.

His bag fell free, and he stumbled back, falling against the wall behind him. He heard the man scream out in pain. Opening his eyes, he saw the reason. Between him and his assailant was the tallest, strongest, sexiest man Ifan had ever seen. He was kneeling with his knee in the man's back and he was securing the attacker's arms.

Turning to Ifan, he looked him up and down. His gaze was precise and pointed. He knew he was assessing him to see if he was hurt, but couldn't help the warmth that spread through his groin as his bright blue eyes caught his.

"Sir are you ok?" he asked. He was American. His voice was smooth like silk and definitely southern. No not southern—Texan.

"Uh…um… yea," he said shakily. Dammit Ifan get it together, he thought. he was not used to being a damsel in distress. The attempted mugging and quick save by this handsome stranger was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him.

The man on the ground let out a groan.

"Don't move. It can get worse." his protector said, as he pulled out a large cell phone from his own bag.

"I'm going to call the authorities," he told him. "Unfortunately, that means we will have to stick around to give a statement, but where are you staying? I can take you back to your hotel."

"Um… Torchwood Resort," he replied.

"Great me too, that makes it easy Tiger," he said.

Jackson didn't believe in fate, but he sure as hell believed in luck. And luck was what he stumbled into when he heard the man scream for help.

He wasted no time following the cries through the market and around a corner onto what looked like an abandoned side street. He knew the sound of danger when he heard it. He immediately saw the man fighting off his attacker. She swung his bag at him with blind fury.

Not once looking to Jackson like he was going to give up or give in. He admired him for it, but cursed him for his foolishness. What if the other man had a knife or worse yet a gun?

Using his good leg and the element of surprise he swung the attacker's legs out from under him, and once he lost his footing, Jackson yanked him to the ground and quickly secured him. Not caring that the man was hurt, he did a quick cursory look over the man to make sure he was ok. His response was shaky but sure as he nodded his thanks.

He was taken slightly aback, He knew he had found Ifan Jones the second he took one look into his stormy grey eyes.

Crazy good luck.

Using his sat phone, he called the local authorities. He would happily hand the would-be mugger creep over to them, now that he had found Ifan he was eager to get on with his own investigation.

He had only been on the island for a day. He had set up his hotel room as his tech base. He wanted to be able to reach Houston should he need, not only to check in with Ethan, but to get updates to Michael Smith. He had also spent a few hours checking out the village house he had decided to rent to get out of the hustle and bustle of the resort life. It was a small wooden, one story house, with a thatched roof. Jackson thought the house was definitely set up as a honeymoon suite for vacationing lovers. There were tons of scented candles, and the bed even had rose petals. Not his idea of a perfect vacation, but he could overlook it. It was secluded behind local foliage and trees, off the beaten path but still within walking distance to the shore and the market square.

When he heard Ifan's call for help, he had been doing some recon work in the village. Trying to get the lay of the land. Once this job was complete he would move over to the rental house fully and enjoy a real vacation.

He watched him now as he spoke to the police officer.

He appeared calm on the outside, but Jackson could see the slight shake of his hands as he spoke. he was most likely in shock. Before he knew what, he was doing he stood up and slipped a protective arm around him.

"Officer, if we're done here, I am sure Mr. Jones would like to go back to his hotel," he said ignoring the look of surprise on his face.

"Yes, sir. Yes, we are done," the officer said nodding excitedly deferring to Jackson's authority. Then turning to Ifan, "Sir, if we need more from you we will contact you at Torchwood yes? And in the meantime you were very lucky your husband heard your calls for help, very lucky."

"Oh, uh he's not my husband," he replied ducking out from under Jackson's arm. He was surprised himself that he immediately noticed the lack of warmth once he stepped away. "But yes, I'll be available."

The officer wore an embarrassed expression as he looked rapidly between Jackson and Ifan. "Well, yes, my apologies sir. We will be in touch."

Jackson touched Ifan's elbow, leading him back toward the market. "Shall we?" he asked.

Ifan looked up at him and Jackson felt a bolt of something electric hit the centre of his stomach. He was beautiful. Not only the eyes, but his smooth pale skin, athletically toned body, and perfectly aligned features. He was a ten for sure. The best part, Jackson though, is he doesn't seem realize it. Of course, he was here to do a job, and he could very well be putting on an act. But he didn't know who he was or why he was here. Something gnawed at his gut, something about this job didn't fit. He learned a long time ago that life and death hung on a soldier's ability to trust his gut. Jackson wasn't about to abandon it now. Whatever it was that felt off led him to think where Ifan was concerned, maybe it wasn't was an act.

"Yes, but first, I don't even know your name?" Ifan sounded timid, but Jackson saw there was something intense behind his eyes as he stuck out her hand toward him in an introduction. He would have laughed except he recognized a depth of concern. he was not going to be comfortable going with him anywhere if he didn't at least know his name.

"Jackson. Jackson Harkness" Jack said as he accepted the hand and the tingle seemed to shake them both like an earthquake.

Ifan spoke first.

"Well. Botheration"

Jackson just grinned. Whatever it was he was supposed to be acquiring him for … the Agency had made a tactical mistake in placing them together.

Now they would be invincible.

Soul mates united.