Chapter Two

"Right then where were we?" The man opened the leather journal, prepared to read again when he heard a muffled cough and glanced up at the crowd of students to see a hand in the air. "You're kidding with the hand thing right? You have a question then Sitga, go ahead?"

"I'm just curious sir, why should we care about the life of a man who lived in a completely different time?"

"Because this man…the man who wrote this journal helped change the entire course of history, he sacrificed everything he had for love. Love of a child, love of a partner and love of his universe and the people living in it. You are here because of this man, this story has never been shared, but it needs to be. Everyone of you is going to have adventures, you're going to face terrifying moments, you're going to be in painful situations and you may loose everything, but the most important thing to remember is that a piece of you, even if it's the smallest part, is human and that's what makes you all different. This man is the true definition of humanity."

"So is he a reincarnation then?" Another student asked.

"There are those who believe that each one of us had a previous life of some sort. An ancient religion called Buddhism as well as Hinduism both believed in a caste system, believe that if you left good karma in the world then you would come back as a higher caste than previously, equally bad Karma brought you back as the lower caste system. As years went by, many continued to believe in the idea of reincarnation, though it morphed over the years as fewer and fewer people had precise memories of other people. But perhaps the important thing to recall is that in every century history studies show there's been at least one reincarnation of a previous century…rarely is it the same person, and rarely do the reincarnations look identical to that of the person they borrow memories from."

"So was this man that exception?"

"This man is an exception onto himself. When people die, even I don't know what and how anything happens to them. Some believe in Heaven, a celestial body of dead people-sounds a little dull to me. Others believe in hell, and others believe in Limbo."

"Purgatory?"

"That's correct. Sometimes Purgatory can crossover with reincarnation, in that if someone wishes to try again they come back. This is a thought that's developed over the centuries, but it's believed that if someone wants to return bad enough, or has a good enough purpose to return, then they will return in the form of another."

"Is that what occurred, Professor."

The Professor sighed as he uncrossed his legs, running a hand through his hair. "Wherever and whenever you all travel you will run into extraordinary people who defy all laws of time, physics, dimensions and space. I've met far more than a few in my life time. I hadn't even really met this man and I knew he was special."

"How did you know?"

"Well, let's just call it intuition and leave it at that. May I continue my story then?"

" The Time Agency?' I questioned…

I'd heard rattling's of a rebellion against a larger secret (not very good at keeping it a secret) organization that was claimed to be threatening time and space. I'd only heard whispers among my classmates, but they called themselves Torchwood…while they were only rumors I'd certainly done all the research at the time I could on both the Time Agency as well as Torchwood. There wasn't much from what I could tell, to my surprise Torchwood looked as though the files had been deleted long before I came along.

"Yeah, though I really shouldn't have even told you that. Now I'll have to kill you."

I was surprised by serious he sounded, but as I met his blue eyes, I realized there was only flirtation and friendliness there. "That wouldn't do I haven't even gotten to like you yet," I joked.

He looked at me, as if he was offended, "That hurts, I come and invite myself to sit with a handsome man like yourself and you don't even like me yet," he grinned at me almost fiendishly, "What do I have to do to change that."

A part of me desperately wanted to say something flirtatious, but I wasn't sure. How would the man take it? We didn't know one another, we'd barely talked in the time that we'd been sitting together, and yet I could tell he wasn't the sort to just randomly sit down somewhere if he wasn't interested in the occupant already there. "I suppose that depends on what you think I like."

The man, Marc, grinned almost excitedly. "I think you're the type who would prefer to eat out somewhere than sit on this godforsaken station with food that dates back to a world war none of us even care about."

I smiled in return, "I believe, Mr. Harper, you are correct."

"That's Captain Harper. And I kind of thought so. A couple of my fellow Agents and I are getting together downtown on the planet, there's a local pub we like "Dinnies" it's nothing special, but they feed us and let us drink until we can't see straight anymore."

"And?"

Marc chuckled, "Kinda thick aren't you, come to dinner with me."

"Are you asking me out?"

The Time Agent grinned from ear to ear, the smile was beautiful. I don't know what it is about 51st century pheromones but I'm still convinced they kill the brain. "All right then. What time?"

"1800 hours?"

I considered him for a moment, was it worth it. What was he planning? In the back of my mind I could hear my mother telling me "don't wander off with strangers." Now a grown adult, I couldn't see beyond this man's eyes to recall my mother's words of safety. "Very well, I'll be there."

He grinned and handed me a blank card, "Excellent. That's psychic ID, it'll let you be whoever you need to be to get in the pub. It's a little exclusive to Time Agents."

"How will I know what to think of?" I asked as Marc stood to walk away.

The man shrugged, grinning from ear to ear, "Get creative, you'd be surprised what will get you in." With that he turned and walked away, never glancing back.

Marc Harper became a conundrum for me that day; I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening considering a man I was already so struck by. He consumed my every thought as I sat through my last class and returned to my dormitory.

"Wait so he didn't know this guy at all, and the guy says he's from secret agency and he goes with him anyway, forgive me for saying so Professor…but this kid sounds like an idiot."

The Professor chuckled softly, "Some might think so, perhaps, but there's more to Mr. Jones than meets the eye. Perhaps he was going off an instinct?"

"One that probably got him killed," muttered one student.

"Not far off I'm afraid. Now may I continue or would you like to keep interrupting, this will only take longer, I've been given a week to give this information to you so hush and pay attention."

A ripple of laughter spread across the crowd as they settled down again. The Professor glanced up from his book over the rim of his glasses, before he looked down at his desk once again and began to read, his melodic voice filling the air, "Perhaps I was stupid, certainly some of my closest friends thought so, but I had an interest in this man, perhaps it's because his face appeared so familiar. I'd seen it in my dreams. How could such a beautiful man with such chiseled features be so…haunting. But that's exactly what he did, I would watch him, stand at the edges of high buildings watching over a city I didn't even know the name of, as if he was waiting for something, or someone to pluck him straight from the sky.

It's as though I knew long before I met this man that I was supposed to meet him. Some of the images I have of him are joyous, and wonderful. But then there are some…the sight of him sobbing in a corner. It doesn't seem to fit the man I'd just met, but that's what I see. A broken man begging for something, it's truly one of the hardest things to describe because people don't understand me. Just dreaming about this man makes me feel something funny in my stomach, as if the world has only just begun. Coming to the Uni to find myself was rapidly turning out to be the best choice I ever made."

"If you're so unsure, why are you going?" My friend Elisa questioned as I prepared for the evening. I was wearing my favorite black shirt and a pair of dark black jeans. It was all very early century clothing, but I'd always felt the most comfortable in it. It certainly wasn't cheap to come by these days though.

"Lisa, you didn't see him…he was amazing."

"All he did was sit down, I'd hate to see what you did if you had sex with him," she giggled.

Rolling my eyes I looked at her, "All I'm saying' is he's different," I replied softly as I pulled a nice jumper on.

I was out heading towards Katana less than ten space minutes later. As I steered my Galactic Colla, the dream of every student in the area, towards the planet I noted my mother's wouldn't be very happy with me if I didn't stop by at some point for a brief visit.

Dinnies was an old fashioned bar at least that was most likely the goal of it. In truth it was rather hip a stylish, staying up with all the trends-which did occasionally include colors and music no normal person would listen to. For instance, a few years ago they'd played smash hits from a guy called Michael Jackson…I'd never gotten into his trend, though shortly after that they'd done hits by ABBA, and while I wasn't sure about all the songs, there were at least a few that were seriously poptastic.

I pulled my roamer into the lots, parking it beside a rather nice looking winged cycle. Grinning I took time to look the cycle over, noting how beautifully it was painted and built. Without much more of a thought, I headed to the front door; a tall over weight man looked at me as if waiting. I gasped, realizing what I needed; I pulled out my ID and thought about the Time Agency and the Captain.

"Sorry about that Private, I didn't recognize you, come on in."

I glanced down at my piece of paper once I'd stepped inside, "Private, the least you could've done was make me a Captain too," I muttered slipping it back into my pocket.

There he was, standing in the darkness of the bar, wearing an old leather jacket and a pair of slacks that look far tighter than they should be. His hair was spiked for some reason, but he was the picture of beauty. He stood around with another group of people; there were a total of about four in his group besides him, all laughing and telling stories, most in similar outfits.

Blue eyes turned to me and I felt my breath catch in my lungs, I hadn't realized how beautiful he was. Blue eyes which were so familiar.

I shook my head to shake off memories that weren't mine and stepped forward with an aura of assurance that wasn't my own. His smile went from brief to broad as he watched me walk towards them.

"Ian Jones!" He greeted with open arms that seemed to define Marc, full of exuberance and life. He seemed to radiate confidence and excitement. I'd never met anyone quiet like him before-not ever. A part of me was sure no one else in the world could exist like him.

"Hey, you invited me, I'm here," I joked.

Marc looked at me, nodding briefly, as if he appreciated that sentiment, "I did. Ian I'd like you to meet my friends: Phili Dantson, Jerecok Mataow, Ami Danil and of course last but not least John Hendri."

"Nice to meet you all," I replied nodding to each one, I knew Marc was leaving off the "my fellow time agents" part. But I was okay with that, I didn't need to know about Marc's job. I was interested in the rest of his life.

"Well boys and girls, if you don't mind I'm going to take a brief leave and get to know my new friend." Marc waved off his friends and led me out onto the dance floor. I smiled as I stepped close, to my surprise he gripped my hands and pressed his body against mine as we began to sway in a slow dance.

I was sure his friends probably saw me as just another notch in the belt of Marc Harper. But I wanted it to be more, maybe I was…it was a sickening realization to me that I was okay with that option.

I could feel his breath against my neck, there was something highly erotic about having this man so close, I could easily blame it on the fifty-first century pheromones we're all born with…but it was more than that. It was the light pressure I felt against the small of my back, where his hand was resting. It was his broad chest pressed close so mine that I could feel his heart beat and every breath. It was the feeling of parts of his body pressed close to mine that very clearly were enjoying the dance as much as I was.

"Tell me Ian Jones, why is it, that you barely know me and yet here you are dancing so very close to mine." He whispered in my ear.

I looked at him, confused as to why he'd ask such a question. Pulling away slightly, just enough for our chests to separate, I looked into his beautiful blue eyes. I felt a shiver go through my body…

"And here's where he gets killed," the entire class chuckled.

Even the Professor couldn't stop himself, "Not quite, but you're right perhaps this next bit is too…mature for this audience." His plot worked the class quieted down, obviously wanting to hear more, the Professor grinned, deciding not to leave out any gory details of the entire story and continued.

"A body pressed against mine, I looked at him, meeting him dead in the eyes and forced a smile, trying not to get upset at the way he'd acted towards Gwen. "You act as though you'll never see or love her again." I whispered.

He shrugged non-committal and sighed, "I have lived so long, and have loved so many. I care for you deeply. And while I care for Gwen…I care for her in a very different way than I care for you. Perhaps it's because she reminds me so much of my late wife. But you…you are so very different. Unlike any human I've ever been before."

"But you do love her?"

"Forever and always, don't hate me for something I have no control over."

I smiled sadly and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, "I don't think I could ever really hate you, Captain."

"Ian…Ian, you okay?" Marc looked so concerned, he'd drawn further from me, just slightly, enough to have his hands pressed to my face.

"Sorry, what?"

Marc shrugged, "You seemed to just leave me for a few minutes. You all right?"

I nodded; I didn't really know why I was here. I hadn't really thought about anything beyond him. I just wanted to know the man who seemed so familiar. "I'm sorry…I…" How did one explain to a man they barely know that they share memories from another life that isn't theirs finally, taking a deep breath, I decided to venture outside my own comfort zone, "Would you like to get out of here? Maybe go somewhere quieter an' get a bite to eat?"

He looked hesitant at first, but I was surprised to see a hint of faith in those eyes as he nodded, "I was gettin' bored here anyway. Where would you like to go Mr. Jones?"

Twenty minutes later I found my mind clearer as we sat in a small joint down the cove. I always found it easier to relax and bring myself back to this world when it was quieter. He sat across from me at a booth; we'd both ordered some pie and sat quietly for a few moments. "So tell me about yourself Mr. Jones."

I shrugged, unsure what exactly he wanted to hear, "There isn't much honestly. I'm just your average humanoid, I suppose."

"I've learned in my short life there isn't much average about humans. But you're on a space station for kids who are really just trying to kill time as they figure themselves out. So what's a bloke like you doin' in a place like this."

"I'm here tryin' to find myself I suppose. I didn't realize anything was wrong with that. I'm just a kid trying to work out where I belong in the world."

Marc chuckled, "Even I don't know that Ian. We're foolish to think we all have a place to some extent. But I mean why are you so different?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," I replied suddenly concerned that this guy seemed to know something about me that I told very few people.

He smiled as he took a bite of his barberry pie, "I think you know exactly what I mean. You have a problem…am I right?"

I didn't know how to answer; my mother had once told me not to tell anyone about my problem because they might think I was loony. I didn't want to be seen as loony now. I was my own man…wasn't I?

"You see things that you never did, that you don't recall?"

"Yes," I replied without even thinking about it.

"You're one of those prophets."

"I'm sorry?" I asked, completely confused suddenly, unsure what was he talking about. "I'm a what?" I'd heard of those so called prophecies, there were all of eight of them throughout history and it's said that each one met an end all because people found out about the truth behind their purpose. I didn't want to be one of those.

"Relax, I'm not out to hurt you, I'm only here to help you. Tell me about what you see, please?" His request was almost childish, and sweet.

I couldn't resist, I opened my mouth to speak, nodding simply as the waitress walked back. "I see things that I don't even remember doing, saying things I've never said and living a life that I don't think is mine."

"Are these memories from the past or future?"

"Pretty sure they're from the past…my therapist calls it reincarnation."

"And what do you think?"

I paused and looked at him, "I think I'm living the life of a man who died a very long time ago before he was actually meant to die."