Author's Notes: This chapter is a bit lighter after the last one. Hope you all enjoy it. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for unwavering support and encouragement.

Chapter Forty-Three

October 23rd, 2008

Jack took a sip from his cup of coffee, and was puzzled once again as he tried to figure out what precisely was wrong with it. The flavour was actually very good, but the elusive feeling that something was missing continued to prickle at the furthest edges of his mind. It was a increasingly familiar sensation, and one he knew he'd have to get used to, but it was frustrating nonetheless. He'd really done a number on himself by taking such a strong dose of retcon, he thought ruefully.

Turning his attention to the jam donut sitting invitingly on the plate in front of him, he glanced up at his companion, who he was surprised to find was looking at the innocuous pastry with a disproportionate degree of interest.

"Looks good, huh?" He nudged the plate across the table. "Want some? We can share. I don't mind."

Dylan shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm fine. Had a big lunch."

Jack looked at the young man sceptically. "You're sure?"

"Yup." Dylan nudged the plate back towards Jack, then took a sip from his own cup of coffee.

Jack shrugged and devoured a mouthful of the donut. Licking a blob of jam from his thumb, he gave Dylan a teasing smile. "Are you always this stubborn?"

Dylan frowned. "I'm Welsh," he replied succinctly.

"Oh, yeah, believe me, I've noticed. All those beautiful Welsh vowels," Jack said appreciatively, grinning at the other man, then taking another bite from the donut.

"Do you always flirt with everyone you meet?" Dylan asked, raising an eyebrow, his wry expression suggesting he was more amused than offended.

Jack shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. It's kind of my thing." He paused uncertainly. "Does it bother you?"

"Not really. As long as you don't get any funny ideas." Dylan's striking blue eyes gazed at Jack appraisingly. "I'm not..." He broke off awkwardly, a flicker of confusion passing over his features, then vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. "I... er... I don't like men... not like that."

"Fair enough." Jack stuffed the rest of the donut into his mouth, hoping he'd managed to hide his disappointment.

Dylan was undeniably handsome, gorgeous in fact, and Jack doubted he'd have been able to resist acting on his attraction if the Welshman had shown any reciprocal interest. He'd continued to deny himself physical gratification since waking up to his new reality, but he couldn't figure out exactly why. That in itself was disconcerting for a man with his considerable sexual appetite, and although he was beginning to feel the need keenly, the idea of seeking out a random bed partner continued to be unappealing. However, being in the presence of such an attractive and desirable young man was testing his resolve. He wasn't built for celibacy, and it was an issue he'd have to deal with, probably sooner rather than later.

It was the fourth consecutive day of meeting Dylan for coffee and conversation, and although their budding friendship was a welcome distraction from his troubles, he'd also found the intriguing young man difficult to shift from his thoughts. Beyond the man's physical appeal, there was something indefinable about him that Jack felt drawn to, an explicable sense of comfort... a feeling of having found something he hadn't even known he'd lost.

Dylan was quiet and reserved in nature, and he hadn't been particularly forthcoming about himself or his past. The only detail he'd volunteered was that he'd recently returned to London, having gone home to Wales for a period of time after his girlfriend's death.

But with a little persistence, Jack had also learned that the Welshman was currently unemployed, apparently between jobs, lived on his own in an apartment in the city not far from Canary Wharf, and that both of his parents were deceased and he had no other family. Jack was curious to know more about the young man, but it suited him not to feel obliged to reveal too much about himself, and he didn't relish the idea of fabricating a tapestry of lies. While he was perfectly adept at subterfuge, having perfected the art several lifetimes ago during his misguided time as a conman, he found to his surprise that he didn't want to lie to the other man. So instead, he'd simply supplied that he too was on his own, without any family, and had also recently returned to London with the intention of starting afresh, having alluded vaguely to a painful past he wished to forget. While carefully lacking in detail, he'd assured himself that at least none of what he'd revealed was an outright lie.

If he was feeling fanciful, he might have considered that he'd become rather smitten with the younger man. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to feel the stirrings of infatuation, having learned slowly and painfully to harden his heart as the decades passed him by. Instead, he'd settled for purely physical assignations to temper the worst of his loneliness, not allowing emotional attachments that would inevitably end in heartache to get in the way. He hadn't always been successful, but he'd convinced himself that no matter how intense the loneliness became, it was always better than the alternative. Anything was better than the relentless pain of losing everyone he ever cared about.

He had to keep reminding himself that everything was different now, and after almost one-hundred and forty years, his life was finite once again. He was now growing a little older every day, just like everyone else. In theory, he could find someone to spend his life with... someone to grow old with... someone to love without fear or reservation. He wondered if that was even possible after so long, if the association of love and loss was so deeply etched into his soul that it was impossible to erase. He wondered if he could find the courage to let someone into his heart again.

Mentally shaking himself, he pulled away from his sombre thoughts to find Dylan looking at him with a concerned expression. "James? Are you all right?"

Jack nodded and smiled wryly. "Yeah, sorry. Just drifted away for a moment."

Dylan's continued to look at him worriedly, but then his expression cleared, and he gave Jack a small smile in return. He picked up a white paper napkin with his long, lean fingers and passed it across the table. "You've, um... you've got jam on your chin."

Jack took the napkin, and giving into temptation, he allowed his fingers to briefly brush against the other man's. Just for a moment he wished he could grasp hold of Dylan's hand and feel the warm, pale skin against his own.

"Thanks," he said, wiping ruefully at his face, then screwing up the napkin into a tight ball and dropping it onto the now empty plate. For as long as he could remember, he'd always been a messy eater. He supposed some habits were just too hard to break.

"So, I was thinking of going to the theatre this afternoon," he said in a casual, conversational tone. "There's one not far from here." He looked at Dylan hopefully. "Feel like coming with me?"

Dylan blinked, his eyes widening slightly in what appeared to be mild surprise. "What are you going to see?" he asked, his curiosity apparently piqued.

"Don't know," Jack replied with a shrug. "Just thought I'd see what takes my fancy when I get there."

Dylan took a sip of his coffee as he looked at Jack with a contemplative expression. "The new Bond film started yesterday."

"Well, we could see that if you like," Jack suggested easily, feeling a little thrill of anticipation at the prospect of spending the rest of the afternoon in the company of the other man. "Sounds like fun."

"I've been wanting to see it." A sad, wistfulness crept into Dylan's expressive eyes, and Jack wondered if he was thinking about his dead girlfriend. "It's been a while since I've gone to the cinema."

"So, is that a yes?" Jack asked, trying to sound casually indifferent, but certain he was failing spectacularly.

Dylan nodded, the hint of a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Yes... yes."

###

They exited the cinema several hours later, Dylan expounding in intricate detail about the finer points of the film's storyline, picking up on subtle nuances that had passed Jack by unnoticed. He'd enjoyed the film though, and he'd been amused to find Dylan spellbound throughout, his eyes never drifting from the screen. The Welshman clearly took his interest in James Bond very seriously. Although Jack had seem some of the films in the past, and had even met one of the actors once, he wasn't a connoisseur like Dylan. He couldn't help but find the other man's understated enthusiasm both beguiling and infectious.

"So, I take it you enjoyed the movie?" he asked, just a hint of teasing in his voice.

"Yep. Brilliant," Dylan replied earnestly, either not detecting Jack's good-natured gibe, or choosing to ignore it. Jack suspected the later, doubting there was much that slipped by the other man's notice. "I'll have to see it again. You always find things you missed with a second viewing."

Given the man's seemingly remarkable attention to detail, Jack found that hard to believe. "Just once more?"

Dylan looked thoughtful. "Maybe twice."

Jack laughed, shaking his head in amusement. He realised it was the first time since his strange new life had begun that he'd genuinely laughed, without it feeling forced. It felt good... really good.

It was early evening and they'd been walking down the busy London street for several minutes. Jack wasn't sure where they were heading, but he wasn't ready to part company with the other man quite yet. He'd actually had a very enjoyable afternoon, much to his surprise given his current circumstances.

"Want to get something to eat?" he suggested, looking for an excuse to extend their time together, and not relishing the thought of returning to his empty hotel room. "Some dinner? My treat."

Dylan looked a little surprised by the suggestion, but not displeased, Jack was relieved to note. "All right. What do you fancy?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm easy. How about you?"

"Pizza? There's a decent place near my building. It's not too far from here." Dylan looked at Jack with a strangely curious expression. "We can go back to mine to eat if you like?"

"Sure. Sounds good." Jack smiled warmly at the Welshman. "Lead the way."

###

Dylan ushered Jack into the apartment, closing the door behind them. He slid off his woollen coat and hung it up neatly, then pulled off his shoes, lining them up on the floor against the wall directly beneath the coat rack. He then took the large pizza box from Jack and put it down on the coffee table in front of the nearby black leather sofa. "Make yourself comfortable, James."

Following the other man's lead, Jack tugged off his leather jacket and hung it up beside Dylan's coat, stretching out his upper body as he gazed around the modern, sparsely decorated, and impeccably neat apartment. He was startled to find that it reminded him of the disused apartment he'd left behind in Cardiff, the layout and sleek, contemporary style remarkably similar.

Slipping off his boots and absently arranging them neatly next to Dylan's, he strolled over to a bookcase on the opposite side of the open-plan living area. Meanwhile, Dylan disappeared through one of the two nearby doors running off a short passageway, and into what Jack assumed was the bathroom. The sound of running water a moment later confirmed his supposition. He perused Dylan's substantial DVD collection, unsurprised to find it included every Bond movie, all neatly lined up in chronological order.

Dylan reappeared and gestured into the room he'd just vacated. "Bathroom's just there if you want to wash your hands or use the loo."

He then busied himself in the small kitchen tucked in beside the entrance to the apartment. Jack noticed the gleaming and obviously expensive coffee machine that took up a substantial section of one end of the kitchen's compact bench-top.

Taking that as his cue, Jack went into the bathroom and quickly made use of the facilities. After washing his hands and splashing some water on his face, he couldn't resist taking a quick peek inside the small cabinet under the basin. Inside he found an wide array of tidily arranged grooming products, a shaving kit, a red toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste squeezed perfectly from the end. Clearly Dylan's tidy, meticulous nature encompassed all aspects of his life, and while it was a stark contrast to Jack's more unfussy, carefree approach, he couldn't help but find the Welshman's fastidiousness oddly endearing. Against his better judgement, he was eager to learn more about the enigmatic young man.

"Nice place," he commented as he exited the bathroom, smiling to himself and looking across at the other man.

"Thanks." Dylan placed plates and napkins on the coffee table, then retrieved two bottles of beer from his refrigerator and deftly popped them open. "It's a bit small, but since it's just me, it's fine." He passed Jack one of the bottles, clinking his own against it. "Here you go. Cheers."

"Cheers." Jack took a mouthful from his bottle, and they sat down on the sofa, turning their attention to the pizza.

Jack watched with amusement as Dylan unfolded a napkin and tucked it into the collar of his dark red shirt. "What?" Dylan asked, frowning as he carefully extracted a slice of pizza from the box and put it onto his plate.

Jack grinned, grabbing a slice for himself. "You're kind of a neat-freak, aren't you?"

Dylan huffed indignantly. "No. I just like things to be tidy. What's wrong with that?" He gazed at Jack with a hint of challenge in his eyes.

"Nothing," Jack assured him, struggling to hold back a laugh. "Nothing at all. Actually, it's rather..." He was about to say 'adorable', but caught himself, deciding it was probably inappropriate, especially given the younger man's earlier admonishment. "It's very admirable," he said instead.

Dylan narrowed his eyes slightly, probably trying to decide if Jack was winding him up. He gestured at Jack's plate. "Eat your pizza before it gets cold."

"Yes, sir," Jack replied cheekily, biting off a generous mouthful of pizza and chewing enthusiastically, earning himself an eye-roll from the other man.

###

After the pizza was consumed, along with a second round of beers, Dylan stood up and carried their plates, bottles and the empty pizza box over to the kitchen. "Coffee?" he asked, glancing at Jack.

"Absolutely," Jack replied. "Need a hand?"

"No, I'm fine." Dylan had begun operating the coffee machine. "Put the telly on if you like."

Grabbing the remote from where it was lined up with the edge of the coffee table, Jack settled back and idly flicked through the channels, leaving the volume on low. He felt oddly content, much to his surprise. He was enjoying having someone to spend time with, and he genuinely liked Dylan, finding the young man to be good company, and appreciating his undemanding, not overly inquisitive nature. Suddenly he didn't feel quite so alone, and although loneliness was a state he'd become well accustomed with over the years, unexpectedly finding himself a new friend was a very welcome stroke of good fortune.

Dylan returned to the sofa, carrying two white mugs of steaming coffee, and passing one to Jack before sitting down next to him. "Careful it's hot," he cautioned.

"Thanks." Jack smiled and raised the mug to his face, appreciatively breathing in the strong aroma. "Mmm, this smells delicious," he murmured, blowing across the surface of the liquid and taking a tentative sip, once again expecting to feel that odd little pang of disappointment as the coffee hit his taste buds.

To his complete astonishment, the coffee was perfect, and he didn't feel the familiar hint of disappointment. "Wow!" he said, his eyes widening as he took another sip, thinking that his senses were deceiving him. Realising they hadn't, he looked at Dylan with a mixture of disbelief, confusion and awe. "Dylan, this is spectacular."

Dylan was sipping slowly at his own coffee, his eyes downcast. He looked up and met Jack's gaze, smiling softly. "It's kind of my speciality." His smile morphed into a small but unmistakeably cheeky smirk. "Like you and your flirting."

Jack laughed, surprising himself with how free and uninhibited it sounded to his ears. It had been a day filled with surprises, he realised. "Seriously, this is the best coffee I've ever tasted," he added enthusiastically.

"Glad you like it," Dylan said, looking a little self-conscious and flustered by Jack's unrestrained praise.

They sat side-by-side in comfortable silence as they drank, the only distraction the soft murmur of the television in the background. Jack was too captivated by his coffee to take any notice of the programme, savouring every mouthful with reverence. Sighing when his mug was empty, he put it down on the table, and without conscious thought, he rested his hand on Dylan's knee and smiled at him.

"Thanks for today," he said sincerely, feeling grateful to the other man, whose presence had given him a respite from his beleaguered thoughts.

Somehow he felt a little more at peace, a little stronger and ready to cope with his new reality... and inexplicably a little more hopeful. "I had a great time," he added, then sighed softly. "I've been kind of lonely since I arrived in London. It's nice to have found a friend."

Dylan put his own mug down and looked into Jack's eyes, his expression inscrutable. "I had a good time too."

"You seem surprised?" Jack asked curiously.

"No, it's just..." Dylan paused, producing a soft sigh of his own. "I've been lonely too," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

His gaze shifted down to where Jack's hand was still resting on his knee. Jack was about to pull away, worried he might have offended him, when Dylan placed his hand tentatively over Jack's and slowly intertwined their fingers together. He was staring at their joined hands with a puzzled frown, then he looked up into Jack's eyes again, the intense blue depths seeming to peer into Jack's very soul.

The next thing Jack knew, Dylan's lips were pressed against his, and the Welshman was kissing him fiercely.