- 1 -

Walking down the street from my apartment building in Cardiff Bay I paused for a moment to study a poster advertising the concert dates for the current UK tour by The Rolling Stones before continuing to my destination. They were old and haggard now but I remembered seeing them a couple of times in the summer of 1963 when they were fresh-faced boys with a weekly residency on Eel Pie Island. My beloved Toshiko was a serious Beatles fan, but the bluesy sound of the Stones was always more to my taste.

I took a seat at a table on the pavement outside my favourite coffee shop, then reached into my shoulder bag, taking out my cigarettes and lighter, a hardcover novel, and a make-up mirror. I briefly checked my appearance in this before nodding approvingly and returning it to my bag. I was blonde, pretty enough to turn heads, a shade over five-five tall, and wearing a leather jacket over a sports bra and tiny skirt, my feet clad in strappy high heels. I appeared to be in my early-to-mid twenties and physically I was, but since I first came to this city in 1812 appearances were seriously deceiving in my case.

"Can I take your order?" asked a waiter, appearing at my elbow.

"Just an espresso, thank you."

Lighting a cigarette, I leaned back in my chair and exhaled contentedly, happy to be able to indulge in that simple pleasure once more. Smoking indoors in public places had been made illegal during the months I'd been an invisible phantom but on a day like this sitting outside wasn't so bad. I gazed out over Roald Dahl Plass, taking in the scene. My eyes alighted on the water tower that unbeknownst to almost everyone continued down into the Hub, Torchwood Three's underground base located below that structure. I smiled wistfully, remembering how it was when I ran it and this was not Cardiff Bay but Tiger Bay, home to the very specific, very vibrant multi-cultural community now lost to time that had produced singer Shirley Bassey.

Turning my attention to my book, I ran my fingers lightly over the cover. It was the most recent V.I. Warshawski novel from author Sara Paretsky. Having been one myself I had a soft spot for novels about female private eyes. Taking another long drag on my cigarette, I opened the book at the first page and began to read...

I was on the second chapter and my second cigarette when someone dropped into the chair opposite me.

"Hello Jack," I said, sighing heavily and placing my book on the table, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Even in this weather Jack Harkness still wore his heavy World War Two-era RAF greatcoat.

"Hello, Mary," he said, giving the cocky grin that always works on those who find him attractive, so not me, "I'd like to know what you make of this."

Though much smaller, the device he pulled from his coat pocket bore a strong resemblance to the transporter that brought me to this planet two centuries ago.

"Amazing what the Rift coughs up," he said, placing it on the table next to my book. "We recovered it yesterday from a school playing field in Llanrumney which - interesting fact - locals believe is where the Welsh pirate Henry Morgan was born."

"It appears to be Arcateenian," I said, examining it without touching it, "but if my people made it then it's something new I've never seen before."

"So you've got no idea what it's for, I'm guessing."

"The design suggests a transporter of some sort, but it's too small for interstellar travel. Something that size would carry you no distance at all, and anyway it's missing some crucial nodes and has others whose function I don't understand. On the other hand, the activation point is where I'd expect it to be."

And that was when the Judoon showed up.

- 2 -

One minute Roald Dahl Plass contained only human pedestrians, and the next a dozen Judoon had teleported in. The appearance in their midst of rhinoform humanoids in militaristic garb caused a certain amount of panic, though not as much as might have been expected. But I was less interested in those brutish rentacops than I was in the human who arrived with them.

It was Brad Pitt.

Or, more precisely, someone using his image. That's when I knew what this was.

"They're here for me," I said. "Brad over there is an Arcateenian who's assumed human form."

Arcateenians could take human shape for a week or two before needing to return home, or as in my case meld with a human and stay here indefinitely.

"Your transporter," said Jack, who was calmly assessing the situation and had not moved from his chair, "the one I sent back to your homeworld. Sorry 'bout that."

He got to his feet and started waving his arms.

"Over here!" he shouted. "We're the ones you want! Over here!"

"What are you doing?!" I demanded.

"The Judoon are about to start throwing their weight around 'cataloguing' people which always leads to fatalities, and we can't have that."

"No, I don't suppose we can," I sighed. "I'd say it's been nice knowing you, Jack, but it really hasn't."

"What?!" he said, in mock outrage. "I thought I was growing on you."

"Only in the same way that a fungal infection does."

He grinned at that. One thing you can say for Jack is that he appreciates banter.

'Brad' and the Judoon captain marched up to our table while the rest of the platoon formed a defensive circle around us, weapons facing outwards. 'Brad' was wearing a telepathic pendant so he knew instantly that it was me and not Jack he was after.

"You were sentenced to melding with one of these heathen two of their centuries ago and should now be dead," he said, addressing me and ignoring Jack. "In evading that fate you've evaded justice. Then there's the matter of your prisoner escort, whose non-return you are doubtless responsible for. As a duly appointed Inquisitor I'm authorised by His Eminence the Archinquisitor to use any means necessary to get a confession from you."

"Now wait a minute," said Jack. "You've got no jurisdiction here."

The Judoon captain moved between 'Brad' and Jack, who pushed him aside.

"Assaulting a Judoon officer," said the captain via his translation circuit, "sentence is death!"

He unholstered his disintegrator pistol and fired it at Jack, who immediately collapsed to the floor.

"How odd," said 'Brad', frowning, "he didn't disintegrate. Status?"

The captain unclipped a scanner from his belt and swept it over Jack.

"Assailant is deceased," he announced.

I used the momentary distraction this provided to stab my fingers into the small alien device, activating it. As soon as I did so 'Brad', the Judoon, and Jack Harkness were just... gone. I was still sitting at my table and people were going about Roald Dahl Plass as if it was just another day. My coffee, my book, and the alien device lay on the table in front of me and everything was just as it had been twenty minutes ago. Well almost everything.

"I'll need you to come with me, ma'am," said someone with an American accent, grabbing my arm. He was dressed in an Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, and flip-flops. As he pulled me to my feet I was astonished to find myself looking into the face of Ianto Jones.