Yesterday I made a list of all the things that need to be connected somehow: the man in my dream, the book about the never-aging man... and the most crucial thing: the meeting. The major, ever-flashing question that has never left my mind since the moment I read Gareth's note, is of course: what actually happened to Gareth? Unfortunately, the only strategy I've come up with so far is to walk around and hoping to run into him, with a stroke of luck.
I finish my morning ritual on automatic pilot, and before I realise it, I'm standing in the doorway, ready for another day of walking around and hoping for a miracle.
"Hey, wait! Can you come here for a second?"
I snap out of my automatic pilot mode, turn around and look straight into the eyes of the lady at reception.
" I know it might not be any of my business, but can I ask you a question?"
Not knowing what else to do, I walk up to her and without waiting for me to reply, she starts to talk again.
"A couple of days ago, you asked me if I knew anything about Captain Jack Harkness. American, cheesy smile, big ego? I said he was the kind of man that attracts trouble and I'm sorry, but I couldn't help noticing that you are acting quite strange. And that your brother hasn't been here for a couple of days. You know, I really do hope that Harkness has nothing to do with your brother's disappearance, because the people around him normally don't live to see their first grey hair. All of his so-called teammates end in the most unfortunate way. Mind you, the ones who die are the lucky ones."
She is quiet for a couple of seconds, but before anyone can open their mouths, she continues.
"You know, there is still one member alive, but no one knows where she is. Gwen Cooper is her name, though she might have changed it by now, you see, to try and get rid of the people who are undoubtedly after her. She's probably still on the run with her husband and baby girl, who must be around 3 years old by now, I suppose. I've heard she sticks to small villages only. A while back, there was a story about this village, Rawbone, where strange things happened to children, or actually the lack of children. But information about this was hard to find and you had to actively go look for it in order to hear something about it. It got mentioned nowhere, but I'm sure she or that Captain Torchwood were involved somehow. Anyway, what I just wanted to say was that it seems that the only way of ending your connection with Torchwood is to end your connection with life."
When, after a moment of silence, I didn't respond, she quickly tried to ease my mind.
"But don't worry about it. Maybe it's all just a conspiracy theory. You know, to protect those who worked for Torchwood."
Right. Though this might be interesting and worth investigating.
"Sure, I remember that. Do you happen to know where I can find him by any chance?"
She laughs at me.
"Of course. Torchwood is Cardiff's worst kept secret organisation. Ask anyone about Torchwood and they will point towards the Bay. Especially after that bomb a couple of years ago. It's quite difficult keeping it a secret when you've got all eyes on your organisation. Just wander around near the Bay and you're bound to bump into him sooner rather than later. But please be careful, because I can't keep telling you often enough that-"
"Yeah, I know. And I will. Thanks!"
Time for me to get out of here, before she starts talking again. God, that woman doesn't know how to shut up.
It's a half an hour walk to the Bay, during which I try to connect various dots. Again. But I can't come up with a solution that sounds even remotely possible.
Before I know it, I've been walking for almost half an hour and the familiar shapes of the
water tower and the Millennium Centre start to appear from behind other buildings.
While waiting for the red light, I decide that the best place to sit is near the water tower, at the same place where Gareth and I ate our ice-cream on our first day in Cardiff.
On my way to the stairs surrounding the Roald Dahl Plass, I overhear a conversation about the weather. Apparently it has been sunny for the last couple of days, with not a single drop of rain at all. The person on the left says it's a miracle. Maybe that's where Gareth went: someone knocked me unconscious, kidnapped Gareth and offered him to the weather gods and traded his soul for a couple of sun-filled days. Or maybe my theories are getting slightly too ridiculous.
After I have tried to make myself as comfortable as possible on these stone stairs, I repeat something I have done almost continuously ever since I woke up that Saturday morning: I try to call Gareth. I know it will lead to the same result over and over again, but a small part of me is not ready to give up yet.
Voicemail. Again.
I really start to wonder why I'm not freaking out, and still have the ability to sit here, have more or less rational thoughts, and even enjoy the sun. I mean, I just found out that my brother might be with some Captain, who appears to be part of a not-so-secret-organisation and who means trouble. Maybe I'm not freaking out because all of this sounds unbelievable as hell. Gareth is probably just standing somewhere, laughing at me, and got everyone at the hostel to play along.
Actually, that is the first theory to make sense. Yet, I can't seem to shake this feeling off of me. The feeling that everything might just be true and therefore things are very wrong. Especially since I found something else in my bag, at the same time that I found that book about the never-aging man. I found a coaster with a list on the back. At first, it made absolutely no sense at all, but slowly everything seems to tie together.
"Eyes too old for his face, jokes about being from the fifty-first century, broken bones that heal unnaturally quick, recklessness that implies no fear of death..."
Before I can even try to tie the right strings together, a voice somewhere behind me starts to talk enthusiastically.
"Shall I get us some ice-cream?"
"No, I don't like ice-cream. It gives me a headache."
I turn my head so quickly that I nearly lose my sunglasses.
That's the voice I've been wanting to hear on the other side of my phone!
It's Gareth! It has to be him. It just has to be.
I mean, it sounds like him, but what he said doesn't make any sense at all. Why would he say no to ice-cream?
"Suit yourself. I'll just get some ice-cream for myself. But don't you dare touch it. You don't want ice-cream, so don't get jealous."
The other voice, I recognise him as well. But where have I heard that American voice before?
Wait... American?
"Jack, wait for me! I might not want ice-cream, but that doesn't mean that you-" His voice trails off into the distance.
Jack. The Jack that means trouble?
I jump up, this time thinking about my sunglasses, and try to follow their voices.
I find a man leaning on the railing, peering out over the sea. There is a long, dark coat draped over the railing next to him. I stare at him for a while. It looks like Gareth, but there is something different about him. I don't know, it's like his posture has changed somehow.
A couple of minutes later, a man joins him. With his ice-cream. I'm too far away to be able to follow their conversation, but when the man on the right turns his head, I know for certain it's Gareth.
I walk up to them, and tap Gareth on his right shoulder.
"Okay Gareth, it's been fun, this little game, but I think it's lasted long enough now."
Both men turn around and Gareth looks at me, quizzically. "I'm sorry, but I think you might be confusing me with someone else. My name is Ianto, not Gareth."