Author's Notes: Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for unwavering support, feedback and encouragement. Enjoy! PS. Can anyone guess the significance of the date Jack chose for his birthday (within the context of the story) without cheating? :-)
Chapter Fifty-Three
November 1st, 2008
Jack smiled to himself as he observed the young man sitting opposite him, allowing his gaze to roam as he studied every aspect of Dylan's handsome, youthful features. The soulful eyes he'd grown to adore were currently fixed on the passing landscape, and Jack found himself mesmerised by the glimmer of excitement that radiated from the intense blue depths. Those eyes were capable of expressing a vast spectrum of emotions and were such a contrast to Dylan's placid, emotionally reserved exterior. They hinted at the Welsh fire that ran through the man's veins, and the awareness of Dylan's hidden depths tantalised and thrilled Jack in a way that was different to anything he could remember experiencing before.
He'd lived long enough and made more mistakes than he was willing to count to know the signs. Lust and infatuation were usually safe, they burned hot and fierce, but tended to fade quickly, providing physical gratification without any unwelcome emotional attachment. On the surface, his association with Dylan had the hallmarks of an intense but fleeting relationship, where both parties moved on when the attraction had run its course. However, he knew without a shadow of doubt that what he'd found with Dylan wasn't anything so short-lived and uncomplicated. This was what he'd always run from in the past, what he'd tried to avoid for over a century. Except, for the first time in almost as long as he could remember, he wasn't running away. This time, he was grabbing hold with both hands and refusing to let go.
Dylan had recovered quickly from the surprise of Jack's announcement of their impromptu trip. As the younger man's slack-jawed expression had begun to fade, Jack had found himself pressed up against the door of the apartment, his mouth claimed in a searing kiss that had left him breathless and desperate for more. Much to his disappointment, he'd been left unsatisfied as Dylan had turned his full attention to the task of packing for their trip. Jack had tried to expedite the process, wanting to devote the time before their departure to more pleasurable activities, but his haphazard, carefree approach had been met with abject disapproval along with some seriously impressive eye rolling. In the end he'd had to settle for sprawling on the bed and watching with fond amusement as Dylan packed a compact suitcase with his trademark fastidious attention to detail.
They'd travelled by taxi to St. Pancras station, and their train to Paris was now whisking them towards their destination with impressive speed. Jack's preferred modes of transport were ones in which he was in the driver's seat, regardless of whether it was a land-based vehicle, aeroplane, or spaceship, but he couldn't deny the appeal of something so delightfully mundane as a journey by twenty-first century railway train.
Lost in his contemplative thoughts, it was a few minutes later when he noticed that a small furrow had appeared between Dylan's eyebrows. The Welshman continued to gaze out through the window, but his expression had become distinctly wistful. After continuing to watch the younger man for another minute or so, Jack's curiosity finally got the better of him.
Leaning forward, he rested his hand gently on the other man's knee. "Hey, everything okay?"
Dylan turned his head to face him, blinking several times. The corners of his lips curled upwards into a small smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"You sure?" Jack asked, reluctantly withdrawing his hand.
Dylan nodded, holding Jack's gaze for a moment before looking down at his hands. Just as Jack thought he wasn't going to get anything further from the Welshman, Dylan looked up at him again.
"I was thinking about Lisa... my girlfriend," he said softly. "The one who died." He breathed out a shuddering sigh and shook his head. "There were so many things I thought we'd do together. I suppose when you're young, you think you've got all the time in the world. It doesn't seem fair that she missed out on so much."
"No, it's not," Jack agreed sadly.
Dylan hadn't mentioned his former girlfriend since the day of their fateful meeting in the park, and Jack was a little surprised that he was mentioning her now, not that it bothered him. He may not have known Dylan for long, but he felt certain that the Welshman was someone who didn't easily let people into his heart. Lisa had obviously been someone special, and he couldn't help wondering if he could compete with the ghost of the woman Dylan had quite possibly been hoping to spend his life with.
"Sorry," Dylan murmured, his features taking on an apologetic expression.
Jack looked at him with confusion. "What for?"
"You're taking me on this amazing trip, and here I am going on about my dead girlfriend." Dylan shrugged. "Kind of ruins the mood, doesn't it?"
"That doesn't matter," Jack assured him. "You loved her and you miss her. There's nothing wrong with that. I've lost people who mattered to me too and it's never easy to let go." He leaned in closer, holding Dylan's gaze. "You know you can talk to me about anything you like? Anything at all."
Dylan seemed to consider that for a moment. "I'm not much of a talker, James. Never have been."
"And that's okay, too. Neither am I, if I'm completely honest about it. Not when it comes to things that really matter." Jack smiled ruefully. "Guess we've got that in common."
"Yeah. I guess we have," Dylan agreed, the sadness in his features beginning to fade.
The continued to look at each other, and Jack was relieved when Dylan smiled again, the expression seeming more genuine and unforced this time. "So, where are you taking me first when we get to Paris?"
Jack grinned. "I'll give you one guess. Not afraid of heights are you?"
"A bit," Dylan admitted, then his eyes flashed with a hint of playful amusement. "You might have to hold my hand if I get scared."
"I think I can manage that," Jack said with a soft chuckle. He nudged Dylan's knee with his own. "Now, tell me about what you want us to see and do."
###
Jack devoured his third beignet ravenously, having first lavished it with strawberry jam. He'd gleefully worked his way through all the pastries on offer since their arrival, but the beignet remained his favourite, being the French equivalent to his much-loved jam donuts. Moaning in appreciation, he earned himself a look of fond exasperation from Dylan, who was sitting opposite him.
They were tucked away at a table in a quiet corner of what had become their regular cafe since arriving in Paris a week earlier. It was located just a brief stroll from their hotel in the centre of the city, and they'd taken to enjoying leisurely breakfasts there before beginning whatever activities they'd planned for the day.
Nibbling on a piece of his Pain au Chocolat, Dylan silently passed Jack a paper napkin in what had become a familiar routine. No matter where they were or what they were doing, the younger man always seemed to be at the ready to deal with whatever mess Jack invariably created.
"Mmm, that was delicious," Jack said, wiping his mouth. "I'm going to miss these."
"Well, you'd start getting fat if you kept eating them at this rate," Dylan commented, unhurriedly sipping his coffee, his eyes shining with amusement.
Jack had to concede that the younger man had a point. While his fifty-first century origins ensured he didn't have to worry about twenty-first century plights such as cancer, heart disease, cholesterol or high blood pressure, he could become overweight. He was still getting used to the idea that he now had to take care of his body. He'd gotten too used to having little regard for his physical well-being, knowing that his next death would reset him back to the condition he'd been in when he'd died the first time.
He gave Dylan a suggestive wink. "I'm pretty sure I can convince you to help me work it off later."
Dylan rolled his eyes, and Jack grinned, turning his attention to his coffee.
They'd spent the week taking in the sights of the romantic city, beginning with the Eiffel Tower on their arrival, followed by The Louvre and Musée d'Orsay the following day, along with a boat tour of the Seine River. They'd sampled coffee at various French cafes, visited numerous museums and historic locations, and dined out at a number of different restaurants, including the Jules Verne restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower, where they'd enjoyed a delicious five-course meal and spectacular views over the city. Their nights were spent taking full advantage of the large, comfortable bed in their hotel room, losing themselves in the throes of passion.
Jack had been to the city several times before, his last visit three decades earlier on Torchwood business. This time around he was enjoying being simply a carefree tourist, but mostly he was enjoying sharing the experience with Dylan, whose quiet enthusiasm was endearing and infectious. Watching the Welshman experience the famous city for the first time and seeing the excited gleam and wonder in his eyes, Jack found himself appreciating Paris in a way he hadn't done before.
Dylan had managed to pick up a smattering of French with impressive ease, and hearing the Welshman wrap his tongue around the seductive language tended to have a strange, overpowering effect on Jack. He decided he'd have to encourage the Welshman to continue working on his foreign language skills when they returned to London, and preferably in the bedroom where Jack wouldn't have to worry about any lack of self-restraint.
"What are you smiling about?" Dylan asked, looking at him curiously.
"Just thinking about these last few days," Jack replied nonchalantly, realising he'd probably had a dopey look on his face. "So, where are we going next?"
"We haven't even finished this trip yet," Dylan protested. "Bit soon to be planning another one, isn't it?"
Jack shrugged. "Doesn't mean we can't start thinking about it. Besides, coming to Paris was just to whet your appetite. So, where else would you like to go?"
Dylan looked thoughtful as he continued to sip his coffee. "Italy maybe? I'd like to see Rome and Venice. Maybe tour around a bit and see some of the other regions too."
"Great idea," Jack agreed. "We could make it a longer trip... a few weeks... maybe a month."
"Well, as brilliant as that sounds, it's going to be expensive." Dylan frowned. "I've got some savings to last me for a while, but I'll to have to find a job eventually."
"What about your book?" Jack asked, wondering if he'd given up on the idea.
"If I spend my money travelling, I mightn't have enough left to support myself while I write." Dylan shook his head and sighed. "Anyway, there's no guarantee I'll get published, assuming I can even get something written that's half-decent. It's all a bit daft, isn't it?"
"No. You should do it," Jack said firmly. "You won't know unless you try. Don't worry about how much our travels will cost. I've got plenty of money." He waved his hand dismissively, giving Dylan a sly grin. "Told you I was a good catch."
Jack couldn't deny that he liked the idea of being able to spoil Dylan a little. He'd never been someone who coveted possessions and excessive luxury, so money had always held little meaning for him, although he recognised the freedom it could provide. Even during his time running cons, it had been more about the excitement and thrill, and less about the potential financial gains. Beyond having enough money for day-to-day expenses, he didn't see much point in it if he couldn't give some happiness to someone he cared about. Thinking of the happiness he'd seen in Dylan's face so many times over the past week, any amount of money seemed like a small price to pay to evoke those emotions again.
"James, I can't let you..." Dylan began.
Jack held up his hand to halt the man's protests. "Just chip in what you can manage and I'll cover the rest, okay? It's not a problem, I promise."
He paused and looked at Dylan intently. There were so many things he wished he could tell the other man, but he'd resolved that his long, complicated past should remain firmly in the past, where it belonged. What mattered to him now was the new life he'd embarked on, and the man he was increasingly hoping he'd be able to share it with. "Just don't give up on your dreams, Dylan. Trust me, life's too short."
Dylan looked like he was about to protest further, but then he simply nodded. "What about you, James? What are your dreams?"
"This," Jack replied with certainty. "This is my dream... being here with you... finding someone to give my life meaning." Finding someone to love, he added silently to himself.
He felt his throat tighten with emotion as he realised the truth of his words. Having the chance of a normal, mortal life and someone special to share it with was what he wanted more than anything else. For a very long time, it had all been impossibly out of his reach, and he'd given up on the hope of having the kind of normal life that other people took for granted. A part of him still couldn't believe it was actually happening now.
Wondering if he'd said too much, and again reminding himself that their relationship was still very new, he looked at the other man anxiously. But Dylan was just gazing back at him with warmth and affection in his eyes, and something else that seemed very much like understanding. Remembering how lost they'd both been when they'd met in the park, he wondered if Dylan felt the same way.
He suspected he received his answer when Dylan reached across the table, grasped Jack's hand in his own, and squeezed it tightly.
###
That night, they were lying quietly in their hotel room bed, Jack with his arms wrapped around Dylan and holding him close. Dylan's fingers were trailing lazily through Jack's hair, gently massaging his scalp. Jack's mind drifted, and although he was content and relaxed from the rush of post-coital euphoria, his thoughts began to take a melancholy turn. Involuntarily, he tightened his hold on the younger man.
Sometimes he found himself clinging almost desperately to the Welshman, overcome by the irrational fear that if he let go for just a moment, his new found happiness would abruptly vanish. He was thankful that if Dylan noticed, as he almost certainly had given how perceptive he was, he hadn't said anything.
It almost seemed like a dream. Although Jack knew all too well how everything could change in the blink of an eye, it continued to astonish him how his life had changed so dramatically in such a short amount of time, and not once, but twice. It had been only three weeks since he was sitting in an empty hotel room, his hand gripped tightly around his Webley as he considered putting an end to his existence one final, permanent time. Part of him was terrified that he'd wake up and find himself back there again, that he'd never actually left, and that everything he'd experienced since was nothing more than an elaborate retcon-induced delusion. An involuntary shudder rippled through his body as he recalled those dark, desolate moments.
Dylan lifted his head from Jack's shoulder, looking at him with concern in his eyes. "You okay?"
Jack nodded, swallowing hard. Dylan was still looking at him with a worried expression, and Jack reached up and stroked his cheek tenderly. Tilting his head up, he brushed a soft kiss against Dylan's lips. "I'm happy," he said in barely a whisper, almost afraid that by saying the words aloud, the dream would shatter.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Dylan asked tentatively, sadness creeping into his eyes.
"Yeah." Jack's voice broke as he felt tears threaten to fall. "Feels like a lifetime," he murmured, fully aware of the irony of his words.
He pressed his face against Dylan's shoulder as a ragged sob broke free. Dylan pulled him close, his fingers continuing to gently stroke Jack's hair.
Suddenly, Jack wanted to tell Dylan everything, to unburden himself without reserve or restraint. But the risk was too great, and it was too much for someone who was ignorant of what was out there, even someone as innately calm and rational as his young companion. Beyond his concerns for their fledgling relationship, he didn't wish to burden the other man with the unsettling knowledge of the myriad dangers threatening the Earth and its people, and forever change his concept of reality. Dylan had already lost the woman he'd loved to Torchwood, and feeling fiercely protective of his new lover, Jack didn't want to sully Dylan's soul with the horrors of the clandestine organisation. He'd always thought there was a lot to be said for the age-old proverb 'ignorance is bliss'.
"And you're scared it's not going to last?" Dylan asked, the words seeming more a statement than a question.
With reluctance, Jack pulled back just far enough to look into Dylan's eyes. "Are you sure you're not psychic?"
Dylan gave him a gentle smile and wiped a stray tear from Jack's cheek with his thumb. "Maybe you're not quite as good at concealing yourself as you think." There was no hint of admonishment or judgement in his voice, only compassion and understanding, just like at the cafe earlier that day.
"No, maybe not," Jack conceded, smiling weakly.
"James, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Dylan's tone was earnest and he was looking at Jack determinedly. "Neither of us have to be alone anymore. And whatever this is... fate, destiny, serendipity..." He shrugged slightly. "Doesn't matter. We've got each other. I don't want that to change."
"Me neither," Jack agreed with equal determination.
Dylan took Jack's face in his hands and kissed him fiercely. Jack surrendered without hesitation, reciprocating with all the passion and desire he felt for the remarkable young man.
"I'm happy, too," Dylan whispered when they finally broke apart, looking at Jack intently, as if he was also afraid of saying the words aloud.
Feeling a swell of intense emotion, Jack cradled Dylan's face in his hand, tracing his thumb gently over the defined cheekbone. Then he pulled Dylan close against his chest, burying his face in the younger man's hair.
It was a few minutes later when Dylan interrupted the silence, his hand stroking lazy patterns over Jack's abdomen. "You know, you've never told me how old you are."
"You've never asked," Jack countered lightly, amused by the unexpected non sequitur.
"I'm asking now," Dylan murmured. "But it's all right if you don't want to tell me."
"No, I don't mind," Jack replied. "I'm thirty-six... thirty-seven next year."
If Dylan was surprised, he didn't show it. "When's your birthday?"
Jack had to pause for a moment. Even though he'd memorised all the particulars of his new identity, he wasn't used to casually supplying them yet. "Um... March twenty-seventh," he finally answered, wondering not for the first time if there was any significance to that particular date that he was no longer aware of. "How about you?"
"I'm twenty-six," Dylan replied. "My birthday's August nineteenth."
"Wow, ten years younger." Jack chuckled, giving Dylan a playful squeeze. "You're just a baby."
Dylan snorted. "Hardly."
"Does our age difference bother you?" Jack asked, feeling a stab of anxiety. While Dylan hadn't given any indication that it did, it wasn't something they'd discussed. He tried hard not to think about the fact that he was actually old enough to be Dylan's great-great-great-grandfather. That just made him feel like a dirty old man.
"Nope." Dylan lifted his head, giving Jack an impish grin. "It's kind of nice, actually. I get the benefit of all your extra years of experience. Besides, ten years isn't that much."
"No, I suppose not," Jack agreed, wishing it really was only ten years and not closer to one-hundred and fifty.
The unwelcome thought that Dylan would be better off with someone his own age and who lacked Jack's mountain of emotional baggage tugged at his consciousness. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Dylan if he was sure this was what he wanted, if he understood the inevitable complications and limitations of being in a same-sex relationship, even in the twenty-first century. But he swallowed down the words, firmly pushing away the unpleasant thoughts. Despite his youthful appearance, Dylan was mature and level-headed, seeming wise beyond his years, and continued to show little reticence about them being together. As strange and inexplicable as it still seemed, they somehow just slotted together, and Jack didn't feel they were unequal in any way that actually seemed to matter.
Dylan lifted himself up and straddled Jack's hips, pressing his bare crotch against Jack's. "In fact, I think you should demonstrate some more of that experience of yours right now."
Jack responded with an appreciative groan, and for the rest of the evening no further words were necessary.
###
They were back at their regular coffee shop in London three days later, and with their coffees and Jack's obligatory jam donut consumed, they were making their way to the door, discussing their plans for the afternoon. Dylan had become quite taken with French Impressionism during their trip to Paris, and he wanted to visit the National Gallery to see some of the works on display there.
An attractive, dark-skinned young woman dressed in professional attire was entering the coffee shop, and Jack moved aside to let her pass.
He was surprised when the woman stopped in front of them and looked at him with wide eyes. She broke into an enormous smile and threw herself into his arms. "Jack! It's so good to see you."
Jack froze, his stomach dropping with the unfamiliar woman's use of his former name. He turned anxiously towards Dylan, who was standing at his side and looking between him and the woman with a confused frown.
The woman turned her attention to Dylan, still beaming widely. "Oh, and you must be Ianto! You're even more handsome than Jack described." She looked back towards Jack with a curious expression. "What are the two of you doing in London, Jack? Business or pleasure? You should have called to let me know you were coming to visit."
Ignoring the unfamiliar woman, Jack looked at Dylan in bewilderment, his panic momentarily forgotten. "Who the hell is Ianto?"
Dylan was staring back at him, his mouth hanging open, and his eyes filled with alarm. "James, why did she just call you Jack?"