Time scattered ruins of a castle over a hill. John Hart followed (adult) Anwen over a worn dirt path beneath a bright, clear sky. She hadn't said much about the outing. Langford quietly mentioned a negotiation went badly, and she needed a few days peace if possible. He didn't mind fresh air and privacy. The stress overwhelmed him at times. Not that anyone cared.

Anwen rested on the edge of an old marble fountain. The center statue had crumbled, filling the marble circle with chunks of stone. She reached into the debris and withdrew a shiny coin. A cold wind suddenly whipped around him, sending a chill up his spine. John looked around and nothing appeared threatening. A flowering weed bloomed behind Anwen in the fountain. He wondered if it simply appeared.

"You sensed the ghost?" Anwen smiled.

"Why are we here?"

"Several eerie experiences were reported in the area. Three days ago, a teenager and his grandmother disappeared."

"Working vacation?" He should have known.

"Someone needed to check." She shrugged.

John flipped open his wrist-strap. The readings indicated strange energy, but no indication of a source. "We need to leave."

"Why?"

Wind spun around his ankles, seeming to grab at him. When he looked at Anwen, a blue light flickered behind her. For a moment, the stature appeared intact showing an angel with outstretched wings. "It's not safe."

Reluctantly, she stood. "It's beautiful here."

An illusion, John thought, leading back through the hillside ruins. The eerie feeling increased as blue light flicked through stone embedded in the ground. As he stepped through the archway, the world blinked like a malfunctioning television set. He turned to check on Anwen and found the castle rebuilding itself stone by stone. Wind-chimes clanged, startling him. The sound echoed.

Stone crunched overhead as a gargoyle stood and flexed it's wings. The hideous creature stared over the edge of the castle curiously.

"You must fight your demons, John." Anwen's voice came from outside the castle.

"You defeated them, darling." As he turned toward the voice, hands reached up through the solid ground and grabbed his ankles. With a sharp tug, they dragged him into the ground. "Help me!"

Anwen stood beyond the drawbridge staring at him. "Fight!"

"I love you!"

Terrified, John bolted forward in the bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. He focused on his breathing until his heart stopped racing. The sound of wind-chimed echoed.

"You're awake." Ken crossed the bedroom carrying a suitcase.

"Going somewhere?"

He nodded, looking tense. "My sister was in a car accident yesterday. She needs my help with the kids and her house."

"For how long?"

Ken set the case on the bed avoiding John's eyes. "I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

He hesitated. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

John swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The image of him being grabbed by then ankles caused him to hesitate longer than he'd admit. He hurried over to Ken. "Why?"

"You still love her." Ken opened a drawer and grabbed the first stack of clothes.

That confused John. "My Anwen is dead."

"No." Ken shook his head. "You're waiting for the girl to become the woman you love."

"She won't. My Anwen is dead. The experiences that created her won't happen. The circumstances that resulted in the relationship can't be repeated." His experience with the second time line before it's destruction proved that.

Ken stopped, his hands shaking as he held shirts over his luggage. "You called out to her in your sleep."

"I was having a nightmare."

Tears welled in Ken's eyes. "I'm a convenience. Jack's babysitter. Your shag toy."

"No. You are the light in my darkness." John pulled Ken into a hug, pressing his cheek to the side of Ken's head. "I will give you whatever I can."

"I can't stay."

"We can get another flat."

Ken turned, meeting John's eyes. "I can't be your anti-depressant."

"I'm not using you."

"Not intentionally." Ken shook his head sadly.

"We could take a trip when you're sister's feeling better." It worked for Ianto, John thought desperately. "Wherever you want to go."

Ken's eyes rested on John's lips for a moment to long. John leaned in and kissed him. Conflicted emotions and sexual tension erupted. The suitcase hit the floor moments before they tumbled into bed. The passion rose and their bodies twined.

As the heat cool, Ken turned away. "That didn't change anything."

"How do I make this right?"

"I don't think you can."

Unable to change Ken's mind, John helped carry boxes. From the organization, it was obviously not an impulsive move over last night's dream. The flat's emptiness force John out. He walked through the fading light and cold until the urge to drink overwhelmed him.

Fight your demons, John, adult Anwen's voice returned from his dream.

Instead, he opened the door to the dim lit, dingy pub, and claimed a stool at the bar. He ordered cheap whiskey, needing the burn. A few shots later, he realized the nanogenes prevented intoxication. He couldn't numb the pain.

Darker thoughts stalked through his mind fueled by a cocktail of frustration and anger. When he felt the familiar tingle of telepathy, he blocked it. A perverse satisfaction came from defying Anwen. She'd trapped him on the backwater planet.

A woman suddenly sat next to him, adding ideas to the growing list forming in his mind. "John Hart," she said quietly, her voice modulated like Robert's translation device, "What are you doing?"

"Who are you?"

"Oldaria." She turned to face him, with a hands-free-mobile-like device over her ear.

"Why are you here?"

She leaned one elbow on the counter and eyed him. "You can not safely drink." She moved his glass away.

"Not your business." He reached for it.

She grabbed his hand. "I will carry you." The translator failed to translate. "Misbehaving child."

He tried to withdraw his hand. She held on. "The John I knew almost died of alcohol poisoning."

"I can't get drunk."

"We are leaving." She stood.

When he didn't move, she leaned over and whispered in his ear. "You will leave with me, or I will call Robert."