It was while Jack and Ianto were walking back to the hotel that Jack first noticed him. He'd been so caught up in the euphoria of having Ianto back that he'd almost forgotten why Cardiff was no longer safe. That could be a potentially fatal mistake to make.

Jack knew of 'The Department'. Unlike his knowledge of Torchwood – which had been non-existent at the time – he vaguely remembered learning about them during his years in the Academy. However, he hadn't realised that their origins had begun in the aftermath of the 456 incursion. He hadn't learnt anything about those monsters until the '60s.

From what he had learnt, 'The Department' had officially been formed in the mid-twenty-first century with the merger of the MI5 and MI6, plus several other government departments. They had been a short-lived part of history but had played a significant role. It had been the first publicly acknowledged organisation that dealt with Alien Life on Sol-3, not that it had ever revealed what it had really been doing at the time. However, what Jack most remembered it for was its barbaric views. They had been sort of like the Torchwood he had joined back in the late nineteenth century but on steroids and this time fully backed and funded by the British Government. Long ago, he wouldn't have been surprised if that's what eventually became of the Torchwood Institution. As it was, this wasn't to be the case.

What was worse though, was that 'The Department' was formed two centuries after Torchwood. This should have been the new golden age of humanity, but their attitudes had limited them. Perhaps it was a common theme of the human race: as society moves forwards, some people are always determined to drag it back. Somehow, despite all this, the organisation had still been operating in the same decade as the first manned mission to Mars. Jack had always struggled to comprehend that, even if by 2058 they had lost much of their original power and jurisdiction.

Yet over his long life, Jack was starting to understand why such organisations existed. Just like the original Torchwood, The Department's creation was rooted in fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the alien, fear of anything different. UNIT was facing its own dilemma too. Some believed that a more military-focused organisation would have stopped the 456 incident from happening before it even began whilst others argued that they should have been more focused on the science and that with the right resources, they could have prevented it. The more militant had already switched allegiance to the new department. And Torchwood, well, it had been too busy trying to survive other to do anything other than fly by the seat of its pants. And then, it was all over.

But The Department was still looking for them. Not for Ianto, but for the two survivors of Torchwood Three: him and Gwen. The official line was that they were to be brought in for questioning to help with the enquires, but since the last orders from the Government had been a death sentence, Jack wasn't inclined to believe that for one moment. Neither was Gwen, given her actions over the last six months.

And here Jack was, strolling around the city just as he had before. But it was no longer his city. Torchwood was over. There was no one else to protect them. And several meters behind them, getting no closer than five but no further than fifteen, someone was following them.

He'd been difficult to spot at first – the schools had let out, so the city centre was bustling once more – but Jack knew he was there. The young man, probably in his mid-twenties but deceptively looking much younger, was dressed in a faded graphic t-shirt advertising the Beatles, with a baggy undone checked shirt over it. His ripped jeans dragged along the ground; the damp edges worn thin and frayed by the trampling they'd received. He'd been following them for at least the last ten minutes.

For a spy, he wasn't the most discreet. Certainly, Jack would never have chosen him, but he supposed that's why he'd been picked for the job. No one would suspect the yob with a mop of dark blond hair styled to dangle over his eyes of being a spy. He wondered if the youth was talking rather loudly on his phone to let him know that he was there, that he knew that Jack knew, or if it was just another way for him to blend into the crowd. No one would guess such an amateur performance was sanctioned by the Government's top department. Either way, his constant complaints about how dismal Wales had been playing in the tournament lately, plus several borderline racist comments, were driving Jack mad.

He glanced around, re-remembering CCTV cameras and blind spots, back alleys and side streets, trying to remember foot traffic stats and bus schedules. It was much harder without Toshiko or one of the others back at the Hub to guide him over comms. Did he stick to crowded areas and hope no one would jump them in broad daylight or try to lose them in the backstreets before he led them straight to Martha and Mickey?

Jack's recent actions had already cost them one of their own (or two or three or hundreds or even a thousand more he'd gotten killed on his watch depending on when he started counting), and he'd be damned if he let The Department anywhere near Ianto or Gwen.

Martha and Mickey might be at less risk, but he wasn't willing to let them be used as leverage or bait. Jack hadn't had a choice but to let The Department rummage through the ruins of the Hub – he'd been in no place to stop them at the time – but he wasn't going to let them get his team.

Ianto must have noticed something was wrong too, from the glances he was giving him. Jack tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it obviously wasn't good enough.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Someone's following us," Jack replied just as quietly. "Has been for about ten minutes now."

Ianto glanced in the shop window as they passed, no doubt checking their reflection. "Who?"

"Kid about ten meters back. Black and white checked shirt, baggy jeans, a grey beanie."

"The one talking on his phone to his mate?" he asked sceptically. "Are you sure? If he is, he's not doing a good job of it. I've been getting a headache trying to block out his voice. And he's a bit young for all that spy stuff, isn't he?"

"How old were you when you joined Torchwood?"

"Twenty-one, you know that. Whereas he's barely out of school. Seventeen, maybe eighteen at a push. You sure you're not just being paranoid again?"

"Oh, Ianto. There's been a lot going on whilst you've been gone."

"Yes, I'd gathered that, actually," Ianto grumbled.

"Sorry. It's just been tough," he apologised with a shrug.

"It doesn't matter. Look-"

"It does," he interrupted before Ianto could brush over it with his standard reply. He pulled him over to the side of the pavement. He'd made so many mistakes in the past, he wasn't about to let another one slide. "I'm sorry."

"You can make it up to me later," he replied with a small smile. "But for now, I'm getting the distinct impression that we should get out of Cardiff while we still can. Let's double back to the station and get the train. What I was trying to say when you interrupted me was that we've seen to have lost our pursuer."

"Huh?"

Jack then committed the most basic mistake one could make whilst being trailed and whipped around to look behind them. He heard Ianto snort as he did so and immediately felt even more stupid.

"He caught the bus," Ianto said dryly.

It wasn't like Jack hadn't noticed that either. As he'd pulled Ianto to the side of the pavement out of the flow of traffic, he'd noticed their stalker start to run as he rushed to the bus stop that they'd already passed. He'd heard the rumble of the bus as it pulled up and the hiss of the hydraulics as it lowered and opened its doors. And as he'd turned to face Ianto, he'd seen the teenager (just a kid and barely out of school, like Ianto had said, and almost certainly not a spy) bord the bus, fumbling in his pockets for his wallet.

But with most of his mind focused on Ianto, he'd barely registered it.

He cursed under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. I know." He dropped the bags and ran a hand through his hair. "Right, Mr Jones, care to accompany me to the country?"

Ianto huffed and rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not? It's not like we have the room to stay at Gwen's indefinitely anyway."

"Thank god for small mercies. I don't know how Gwen manages to get any sleep at night with Rhys in bed with her."

He hummed in agreement. "Me neither. I do sympathise. After all, I don't seem to get much sleep when you share my bed either."

"Why, Ianto Jones, you better not be implying what I think you're implying. I've never gotten any complaints before, especially not from you!" Jack replied, trying to sound scandalised and slightly outraged.

But Ianto just smirked back at him. "Why don't we book ourselves a room and find out? One without cameras watching this time."

"Never complained before," he muttered, picking up the bags and taking Ianto's hand again. "Come on then, back to the train station it is. I'll call Martha on our way and let them know the plan."