Story disclaimer: I own none of the following. Many of the references in this story are owed to the writers and the rest of the team(s) involved in the creation and production of Torchwood and Doctor Who. Without them, this story would not be possible. My character Teya owns me. I am making no money from this or any of my other fics posted on this site.

Author's Note:

Scene Six – Cardiff, 1910

He was playing on the beach with Gray and his father, centuries in the future. They were playing ball in the late evening, the Sun setting over the beach. They all knew it was past time for bed, but none of them wanted to stop. He wanted to pause time, wanted the evening to last forever, wanted the laughter and the happiness never to end. She knew how it would end, even before he did. He was running, always running, his hand clutching Gray's tightly. Then suddenly, his hand was empty… "Gray! Gray, where are you!"

He was dancing. He was dancing on the bow of a Chula warship in front of Big Ben while war planes dropped bombs on London, in a war that would not happen for thirty years. He danced with a beautiful girl and whispered sweet nothings in her ear about another warship. Tempting her to make a deal. She knew it wasn't a warship, knew it was an ambulance filled with nano-genes that had caused chaos in London, knew of the empty child that followed them everywhere. He was a con-man?

He was fighting a war of his own, backed-up by humans. Fighting iron monsters that glided about a dark place, with single eye-stalks and two stunted arms, one of which was a laser gun. They terrified him with their metallic war cry as they hunted the defenders through the space-station, crying the same word over and over again… "Exterminate!" It was then that she saw the Bad Wolf… the two eyes glowing with an aura of golden light. Jack had no idea who or what the Bad Wolf was, he only knew it had saved his life. No, more, it had returned his life to him. And he knew that his friends had abandoned him, left him behind to waste away on that hell hole.

Teya woke alone.

She woke with a nauseous taste in her mouth, and a fuzzy edge to her vision that made her aware that she'd been sick. Her head felt heavy and closed, she could barely lift her head. She searched her memory for where she was, and how she'd got there, but could not fathom it. All she could find were memories of Jack, of his childhood, his life. She knew all the poignant moments in his life, some that he treasured and others that he despised. She knew of the emotions he attached to each one. She knew Jack, the depth of a man complicated by loves and losses, by his life as a child and the death of his father and loss of his brother, his glamorous life as a poster boy, the danger and thrill of his life as a Time Agent, the calming of finding a place where he truly belonged and the gut wrenching moment when his friends had left him behind. She knew the phenomenal knowledge that he had died time after time and still lived; knew the harrowing pain of being dragged back into this existence from the darkness. She knew the anger he felt that he had been so chosen, and the fear of knowing that anyone he became close to would grow old and die, while he lived on. More than that, she knew that Jack dreaded becoming a shell, because every time he died he lost a shard of his humanity…

Teya wanted nothing more than for it to stop; it was too much. The surge of his memories and emotions washing through her and crashing over her, she could have drowned in it. She inwardly recoiled from her own emotional response to it all… Empathy for his losses, pity for the lonely poster boy who lived a glamourous life, but wanted nothing more than to find his brother, a rush of adrenaline and kinship for the hunter in the Time Agent, hatred for the despicable con-man he had become. The relief of knowing that there was a place for him in the universe, but she did not understand the image of a blue box not much bigger than a coffin that Jack associated with comfort and space. There was so much sadness and anger for the man he was now, alone in a world that he would never escape. Too much, too many memories, thoughts and emotions… How had this happened?

His blood… She'd drunk from his blood, absorbed his memories. It happened that way sometimes for her kind, although she had never been particularly prone to the phenomenon. There must be something about Jack, she supposed, something about his fifty-first century blood. Before feeding from him, Teya had come across Jack a few times; he always returned to her for friendship and companionship when he was lonely, told her it was because they were both out of their time and place. She'd never understood what he'd meant… now she knew far too well.

Sitting up made her nauseous again, and she clutched at her stomach, screwing her eyes shut and silently refusing to throw up. She was pleased to find no pain from her ribs or anywhere else. Her feed from Jack, however feverish and sick it had made her, had obviously provided enough goodness for her body to heal itself. Jack! Where was he? Had he nursed her through her sickness? Or had he fed her and abandoned her there?

"You're awake." As if summoned by her thought, Jack walked into the room. He was smiling, more in relief than happiness.

"Mmmm." Teya stood up carefully, turning to look at Jack through narrowed eyes, as if seeing him for the first time, desperately trying to ignore the different, conflicted emotions that coursed through her as she saw him.

"What?" He was perturbed by her sudden scrutiny; Teya had never openly watched him before.

"Just glad to see you." She answered, a tired smile on her face, without looking directly at him. His answering smile was pure Hollywood, and she knew in that moment how worried he had been about her. Even if she hadn't, it would have been communicated in the way he crossed the room and held her in a fierce embrace. Teya held him in return, but with far less strength. Jack drew back, his hands gripping the tops of her arms.

"I thought for a while that we'd lost you." He smiled at her, his relief still obvious. "I think something in me made you sick…"

"It happens sometimes." She couldn't tell him the truth. How could she tell him that she knew every dark secret, every intimate moment of his life? She felt like a spy, like she'd been eavesdropping on his entire life.

Jack took her avoidance as her embarrassment. Her inability to look him in the eye convinced him that she was ashamed of drinking from him. He held her again, as if his closeness could convince her that he held no grudge or resentment toward her. He chuckled as her stomach growled, growing into laughter as she shrugged out of his grasp, obviously embarrassed. He'd already thought about her feeding, aware that she was unlikely to want to drink from him again.

"Sorry." The word came out as a giggle, his laughter catching her by surprise but making her want to laugh with him.

"No problem." He left the room for a moment, and then returned with clean clothing for her. She washed and dressed, already feeling better. Her astute Everlarth mind was already filing Jack's life away into categories and sub-categories. She would know him forever, his memories would always be a part of her, but his life was no longer a tidal wave threatening to sweep her away.