Author's Notes: Before anyone frets about the situation I've left Jack in, please know that the first few chapters of the next story are already written, and the prologue of that story, The Homecoming will be posted later today, after I've made sure there are no discrepancies or continuity errors (yes, I began The Homecoming before I even finished Torn Asunder. When you get there, you'll understand why). As I said, this epilogue has Jack trying to come to terms with the revelations in the previous chapter, as well as a few other unpleasant things. We have more divergence from what we saw in Miracle Day in this section as well.

Epilogue

"Let's Dance!"

Tregarth Homestead, Oklahoma

Second week of November, 2011

Ianto didn't have to die.

Steven didn't have to die.

Oh God. What was he supposed to do with this? Jack barely managed to get out of the house and to the ATV before the little he'd eaten that day tried to make a return appearance. He braced himself against the old stables as dry heaves shook his body. Ianto didn't have to die. Steven didn't have to die. He leaned his forehead against his hand, fighting back tears. Jack thought he came to terms with the events of those five awful days. Apparently, he was wrong. When the 456 returned, nearly three years earlier, he only gave his remaining team the bare bones of what happened, because regardless of what happened or how it happened, he should have done more to change Carlyon's mind. Should have done … something.

The heaves finally eased, leaving Jack trembling and aching. He shivered, wishing he thought to grab his greatcoat on the way out of the house. . .huh? A small figure trudged toward him in the gathering dusk, and as it got closer, he saw that it was Natalie Tregarth. He opened his mouth, to remind her that she couldn't go with him this time and maybe make a comment of some kind about how he'd like to have her watch his back one of these days, but Natalie shook her head. In her arms, she held a bundle, a bundle which Jack recognized as his greatcoat. She very gently placed the greatcoat in his arms, smiled at him sadly, and then retreated back into the house. She never said a word. Jack watched her go and then slipped the coat on. In one of the pockets, he found a small water bottle and a note.

'Jack, I know you told me not to say I'm sorry, so I won't. But I don't imagine you'll be feeling too good, so here is a bottle of water. Call me if you need me, and I'll come out in my Patriot to get you. I can't say what you need to hear, and I don't think I can be what you need me to be, but I'll be there as best as I can. Yours, Nat-Nat-Natalie.' Jack couldn't help but smile at his playful nickname for the youngest Tregarth girl, a smile that died as he thought once more of the conversation he and she just overheard. No. No, he couldn't start that again. Instead, he settled on the ATV, making sure that his coat was tight around his body. That would be embarrassing, dying because part of his greatcoat was pulled into the machinery.

As he rode out to the Rift, his nerves began to settle down, with considerable assistance from the cool wind in his face and body. It got cold in Oklahoma in the winter, Natalie said several weeks ago, and he was starting to learn she was one hundred percent correct. As much as he may have wanted to be angry with Carlyon, Jack knew that when all was said and done, it was he who made the decision to sacrifice his grandson, not Carlyon. And it was Jack whom Ianto followed into Thames House, not Carlyon; just as it was Jack who failed to tell Ianto that he loved him as the latter lay dying. But none of that eased the anguish he now felt.

However, any thoughts of the recent revelations were quickly overshadowed when his VM led him not to the site where he saw Ianto for the very last time, but to an out of the way bar. Jason and Lucas brought him here once. . .they drove on the way, and he drove coming back. Evidently, Carlyon neglected to mention that it was very, very hard to get him drunk (something which made the con he ran against the Families far easier than he anticipated). It took the boys several days before they could look him in the eye again. Jack didn't know why. They certainly didn't act any worse than any other kid in his early twenties did.

What really concerned him right now? There were two things. First, he didn't like the idea that the Rift extended to a bar. He met the majority of the neighbors, and he liked them for the most part. They were typical of twenty-first century humans, but they were good people and inclined to look after each other. Still, alcohol and the Rift didn't mix well. The second thing that concerned him was an all-too-familiar form that was breaking apart, just ahead of him. He was even more concerned after each of those sections dove into four humans heading for the bar. One of those men was none other than Matthew Halloran. Jack swore under his breath. Oh, he knew exactly what those things were (Kinickkinock was the best a human tongue could manage of their species name), and he knew what it meant for the bar, for the entire town. The town was a good distance away, and the entity was too much of a control freak to use the cars. This meant Jack had a chance to save the people in the bar.

As each of the men rose to their feet rather awkwardly, Jack braced him for an encounter that was likely to be very unpleasant. The last time he encountered these beings, it didn't end well for them. It didn't end especially well for him, either, but they definitely ended up with the worse end of the deal. They remembered things like that. Even so, better him than the innocent people inside the bar who would be easy pickings for these things. He kinda liked this town, and the people in it, and if these parasites had their way, there would be a mini-Civil War here. With that in mind, he called out, "Hey, boys, long time no see! Still taking over the bodies of indigenous life forms, I see. As I recall, that didn't work so well for you the last time we met." The thing controlling Matthew Halloran turned haltingly to face Jack, sneering. Oh yeah. This was definitely not going to be one of Jack's better nights. Well, there was no help for it. And while he could have used the back-up, Natalie was far safer back at the house, as were the others.

"Harkness! Still protecting this mudball, even after they tried to destroy you, I see," the thing hissed through Matthew's lips. Oh, this wouldn't do, not at all; especially not after the thing laughed, "Oh, I also see that this one likes you. I wonder what would happen if he knew what you really are." Jack merely smiled, tracking the four puppets that were gathering closer. Matthew Halloran. Charles Havelock. Daniel Collins. Everett Wainwright. Jack frowned, because there was one missing from the usual group. . .

But he had no time left to wonder or worry, because the thing controlling Matthew threw the first punch. For the next several minutes, Jack traded blows with the four, the location of the fifth nagging in the back of his mind. As one after another went down, that nagging feeling grew. But it wasn't until three were down that the fifth made his appearance. Unfortunately, Jack didn't see the fifth (Darius Kimball) because he was busy fighting with Matthew.

And Darius chose to make his presence known by slamming something large and heavy into Jack's kidneys, knocking him forward and leaving him breathless from the pain. And oh, hell, it hurt so damn much! He was vaguely aware of the other three men rising to their feet, surrounding him, and the fact that he was in very serious trouble. He didn't fight back against Oswald Danes' two bodyguards/goons, because it would have ruined his cover. And this beating looked like it would be a helluva lot more painful. But he would be damned if he would simply give up. He didn't have any illusions about his chances, five against one, but he also knew he wouldn't give up without a fight. One of the men kicked him hard in the ribs, while Kimball clubbed him again, this time in the back of his head.

Even so, Jack pushed himself to his feet once the stars cleared from his vision, one arm braced against his injured ribs. He shook his hair away from his eyes, offered up a feral smile, and growled at the five men, "All right, then, boys. You wanna dance? Let's dance!"

Fin