Jack awoke with a start; he was in his bed, in the hub. Everything appeared to be normal. He couldn't tell what time it was, so he scrounged around the room looking for his Vortex Manipulator wrist strap.

He eventually found it hiding under the cot. He looked at the screen with utter disbelief, because according to the time displayed on the tiny, complex screen, he had slept for twelve hours. He didn't think he had ever slept that much when he was mortal, let alone when he was immortal and didn't even need sleep.

But he felt better; rejuvenated, and less groggy.

Then he remembered the dream. And that man. Who was he? He had something to do with the box. And for some reason remembering him was awfully important to the mysterious man; like it was imperative that Jack remember him. Why couldn't he?

Retcon. It had to be. Jack remembered waking up from a Retcon-induced slumber that one time; the day everyone on the team realized they lost two whole days. The CCTV video footage was missing too. It was like everyone in Torchwood all agreed to forget those two days; forget about that man perhaps?

Jack thought the man was annoying, but he didn't think he was that annoying. There must have been something about memory; something that this man needed or wanted, and Torchwood didn't want him to have it.

Jack's train of thought came to a complete halt when an aroma wafted into his little closet-like bedroom under his office.

Coffee. He distinctly smelled coffee. And not just any kind of coffee; the kind that Ianto used to make: dark, strong, not too bitter, and just perfect. Jack had long since learned the difference in smells; and he hadn't smelled this one particular coffee aroma for eight years.

Gwen was gone on a family vacation to Scotland; there was no way she was the one messing with the coffee machine.

Jack instinctively grabbed a gun before he headed towards the hub's main room. Searching left and right, high and low, Jack couldn't hear or see anyone. Just to be sure he checked all the security systems and cameras. The aroma was still in the air; it didn't elude him like the last time he smelled something nostalgically connected with his late lover.

He was all alone. In the hub. Smelling coffee.

Jack sat down in a chair, and his eyes closed while he thought of Ianto, and his coffee, and all the wonderful and brilliant things they did together.

And it wasn't just the sex. Jack and Ianto made a good team for Torchwood. Much never needed to be said; Ianto was practically telepathic; he often knew what Jack was thinking, and when needed he acted without asking. And when it wasn't needed, he asked for permission in such a cheeky manner, making it clear he already knew the answer.

Jack always had a thing for the cheeky ones.

"Your memories of him are strong…" Jack heard that man's voice in his head as clearly as if he were standing right there in the room. But he wasn't. Jack opened his eyes just to be sure. He closed them again, continuing to envision Ianto. He could still see him as vividly as if it was just yesterday that they were together.

"Ianto." Jack felt his eyes filling with tears again and he tried in vain to blink them away. He didn't think he had ever felt so overwhelmed by memories. Memories that popped into his head seemingly against his will; they played back like a movie in his mind's eye, each and every one making him feel guilty; sad, and utterly alone.

"Need me to do any attacking, sir?"

"I'm ... not giving up on her. I love her. Can you understand that, Jack? Haven't you ever loved anyone?"

"If you're interested ... I've still got that stopwatch."

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"In his own time... Would you go back to yours? If you could?"

"I could come with you. It's been a while since we went hunting together."

"That's what I love about Torchwood. By day you're chasing the scum of the universe. Come midnight, you're the Wedding Fairy."

"We thought we´d lost you.."

"He thought we were together. Like a couple. He said, 'You two'. The way he said it, huh. 'You two'."

"Would now be a good time to tell you I lost the car?"

"So... one day, you'll see me die of old age. And just keep going..?"

"A thousand years time, you won't remember me."

Jack knew that this trip down memory lane had something to do with the man in his head. It was like the he was showing him these past moments; trying to tell him something.

"What do I do?" Jack asked aloud. He wasn't really sure who or what he was speaking to; perhaps the man in his head; perhaps just himself.

Everything was just so confusing and he was just about to give up trying to understand it, when he finally broke down, and tried the very last thing he could do. He did something he told himself he would never do.

"I need you." Jack said to Ianto now. For the first time since his death, Jack spoke to Ianto. Wherever he was, whether just existing in a body bag in the freezer or alive and well in his memories, Jack was more-or-less praying; sending a spiritual message into all of time and space.

Speaking to the dead.

"Ianto I need you here; with me. I know I'm selfish, but I would give anything to get you back."

There was nothing. No feelings, no premonitions, no spine-tingling or voices in his head. Nothing. Jack sniffed, and the last of his tears were drying against his face. He didn't know what he should have expected from a prayer like that; no one was listening. Ianto was gone; there was no connection from the living to the dead. There was no way to bring his lover back to him.

"Jack?"

A voice cut through the air like an unexpected firecracker going off during a perfectly quiet night.

Jack fully snapped out of his emotional trance and launched out of the chair, reaching for his gun.

He heard footsteps. Jack whirled around a corner, gun in hand, and prepared for anything, when he suddenly came face to face with the intruder.

Turns out, he wasn't really prepared for everything.