Author's Note: A slight AU set after the events of Miracle Day, written as part of torchwoodfanfests Music Fest 2021, with an idea inspired by the song Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens.

This is my first Torchwood fic, and I only watched the show for the first time this year, so bear with me if I have made any glaring rookie mistakes in the world of the show. I also haven't listened to any of the Big Finish Audios yet, so that's why some future events are vaguely referenced.

Enough of me rambling, onto the fic~! 3

Every Fourth of July they remembered.

It didn't matter where they were - LA or Cardiff - or what they were doing. Every single year, they remembered.

Tosh, Ianto, Owen, Esther, Suzie, Vera, Gray, Angelo, and every other person whose lives were lost because of their connection - tangible or otherwise - to Torchwood... They were never forgotten.

The tradition began as all traditions did - by accident. Jack had watched the fireworks during the first Fourth of July after the events of Miracle Day alone, staring out of his LA apartment window with a faraway gaze. It was the same dingy apartment that he had shared with Gwen, and after months of breaking through red tape and persistently explaining to the UK government that contrary to popular belief, the two of them weren't a threat to national security, they were finally able to return to Cardiff. The remains of their makeshift Torchwood equipment had neatly been packed up into moving boxes alongside their few personal belongings (they did travel light, after all), and their tickets for a one-way flight out of LAX were booked and ready to use for the following day.

Gwen had reasons to go back. She had people who she loved who were waiting for her - Rhys, Anwen, her mother, Andy... Him, on the other hand - well, that was more cut-and-dry. Alice had cut ties with him (and why wouldn't she after what he had done to Steven), and any other people that he could possibly call friends or family were either scattered throughout time and space, sick of the sight of him, or dead.

Maybe it was a sense of sentimentality that was drawing him back to Cardiff. It wasn't as if there was a fancy memorial to go to. The government had made their feelings clear when they had blown up the Hub, not that Jack or Gwen expected them to bat an eyelid at their plight. It was what they wanted after all - Torchwood on its knees, struggling to survive. That was the thing though - Torchwood and the people that made it the force of nature that it was were just that. They were survivors. Tragedy and destruction had done nothing but spurred them on in the past, but now...

"What now?"

It was a loaded question to say the least, and as Gwen handed him a glass of scotch, and took her place beside him at the window, Jack discovered that he didn't have an answer.

He thought of the Doctor. Part of him resented the Time Lord for not swooping in with his big blue box to help Torchwood - to help him - in their time of need. Sure, he had other things to be doing, countless other planets across the universe to save, he understood that completely... Even so, the selfish kid in him wanted to scream and shout, to try to explain to him that he needed help. That his friends, the man he loved oh-so-dearly, and so many innocent people had died because they thought that following the lead of a man with an overconfident swagger, sporting an American accent and an army coat was a wise decision. It had proven to be anything but, and as Ianto's broken expression as he lay dying in his arms became the basis for a legion of nightmares that haunted him night after night, Jack was losing confidence in himself fast.

He wanted nothing more than to do something that he had learned from the Doctor - the action of running away from your problems and insecurities. It was about as effective as running away from your shadow, but it had dulled the ache just a little when he had tried it during the time after the 456 incident had occurred - but maybe that was just the copious amounts of alcohol that he had drunk.

"Are you ever coming back, Jack?"

"What for?"

"For me..."

He took a sip from the glass, the liquid stinging his throat slightly, glancing over at the person that had chosen to stand beside him. Gwen Cooper, the wide-eyed copper who just couldn't resist the lure of adventure, and the chance to make a small bit of difference in this crazy, crazy world. She had grown so much in the short time that he had known her, and some might say that the intoxicating power of being a part of Torchwood had smothered whatever doe-eyed innocence she sparkled with in the beginning. She was harder, tougher now - she had to be.

She had never given up on him, even though he had given her every right to. Sure, she swore like a sailor at him, and called him out on almost every shitty thing that he had done during their time together, but he wouldn't have had it any other way. They shared something special - their deep-seeded love for Torchwood as an institute, and as a way to keep the world safe from the unexplainable, but it was something else too. Jack could have sworn that the spark they shared was something more, something more personal... but that was one boundary that he would never cross. Gwen had Rhys and Anwen, and they kept her sane. They kept her from falling into the same pit that he had been tumbling down for his whole immortal life. Herself and Rhys were meant for each other, and he wasn't going to risk wrecking their friendship on a feeling. So, she had Rhys, and he had Ianto - a beautiful, beautiful man that deserved better than someone like him... but now he was on his own again, and it was nobody's fault but his own. Maybe this was his punishment for the lives he had cost by Torchwood's actions... To be forever alone, with the weight of an infinite amount of lost souls on his conscience.

"We recover, and then, if the time is right and the world needs us... We start again."

He took his glass in one hand, raising into the air as the climax of the firework show began, Gwen following suit with her own glass as he spoke first, his voice surprisingly thick with emotion.

"To the lost souls of Torchwood, and beyond. You will never be forgotten."

"To Torchwood, and the lost souls that are left behind to pick up the pieces."

Gwen's features were momentarily brightly lit by the final few fireworks that graced the air as Jack turned to gaze at her. She had taken his free hand in hers, their scotches forgotten for the time being as they both let the sentiment of the moment wash over them. He knew what she was implying with her impromptu speech - it wasn't your fault. A nice thought, but Jack knew better than to try to fool himself - this was all on him. Neither of them chastised the other for letting their tears fall as they gazed at each other, staying like that until the sky faded into the regular dull darkness once again.

They would carry on. For everyone who wanted a better, safer world.

In the years that followed, so many things would happen for better or for worse. Even so, every single Fourth of July was memorable for the two of them.

For one day a year, Jack and Gwen let their masks slip. For one day a year, they remembered.

They remembered the lost souls of Torchwood and beyond, and the lost souls who were left behind to pick up the pieces, and they were never forgotten.