When Love Walked In            

 

 

 

          by PineTranio 

 
 

 

 

 

 PROLOGUE 

 

It was dark that night; the cold, ever-present Cardiff rain fell down steadily onto the empty black 
streets of the wealthy neighborhood. The lamplights did little to illuminate the affluence, not that 
the few occupants outside cared about the view. Their thoughts centered around, “Run!” and 
“Faster!” and “I should have worn better shoes.” 
 
Said shoes, brown lace-ups with moderate traction on the soles, were pounding into the 
pavement as their owner chased after another man only a few meters ahead of him. He was 
gaining on his target; the large, awkward parcel in the other’s arms no doubt slowed down his 
progress. They had been running through the winding roads of the gated community for nearly 
ten minutes, cutting across slick grass and hopping over the boots of cars.  
 
“Don’t trip, Harper,” he told himself. “If you lose him, Harkness will kill you. Bloody 
Harkness!” 
 
Owen Harper grumbled as he breathed heavily. “Where the hell is he anyway?” They had been 
tracking this guy for weeks now. Already, he had made off with several alien items and Captain 
Jack Harkness was not pleased. Owen tapped the silver device in his ear. “Come on, Captain. 
You going to let me have all the fun? Get yer arse out here!” 
 
Nothing. 
 
“Jack! Where the fuck are you? Suzie?” he called for Torchwood’s second-in-command. “Is 
anyone there?” 
 
“I’m here, Owen.” came a female voice. 
 
“Great. Is there anyone there who can bloody well do something?” he asked Toshiko Sato, who 
was currently monitoring the group from the safety of the Hub, miles away. “I can get this guy, 
but backup would be nice!” 
 
“I can’t get a hold of Jack. Last contact, he said Suzie was down and the owner was locked in a 
panic room.” 
 
Another growl from the medic. His anger fueling him, he put on a burst of speed. “Keep trying, 
Tosh. Give him my location and tell him to get the car. I’m ending this now!” 
 
“Be careful Owen. We don’t know what he stole.” 
 

“I’m soaked. I’m tired and the only thing I care about right now is not breaking my pretty little 
neck. Fucking rain! Fucking Cardiff!”  
 
As Owen stumbled off a kerb, his soaked shoes heavy with water, he saw the thief just ahead of 
him have a similar problem. The man tripped over his sodden trainers, landing on his knees in 
the mud. His large, stolen parcel fell to the earth with a splat. Owen saw the thief scramble to it, 
pull something from his coat pocket and lift the thick covering off the object. From his vantage 
Owen still couldn’t tell what it was, but that the thief was frantically attacking an area of it. A 
sick, tight crack resounded over the raindrops. Why was he destroying what he took in the first 
place? Owen wondered as he arrived behind the man. 
 
“Don’t even try it,” Owen warned evenly, pulling his gun from the small of his back.  
 
The thief, his stolen prize still in his hands, slowly stood and turned to face Owen.  
 
“Drop it to the ground, nice and easy,” ordered Owen.  
 
The thief did not comply. He just stood there, his eyes darting all around him, looking for a way 
of escape. They were still alone, but if the thief had a weapon he would have to relinquish his 
parcel. 
 
“Give it up, mate. Put it on the ground or I will shoot you where you stand.” Owen cocked back 
the hammer. The thief’s dark eyes widened slightly and before Owen could react, the man hefted 
the object into the air. 
 
“Fuck!” Owen ran forward to catch it. The last thing he needed was for something alien to break 
and blow things up on his watch. The object fell into his waiting arms, Owen grunting with the 
weight of it, and the thick covering, some sort of canvas material, fluttered to his feet. Quickly, 
he looked up and saw the thief disappearing behind a cluster of trees some distance away.  
 
Cursing under his breath, he called out to his teammates through their comms. “Tosh, I lost him.” 
 
“Do you have it?” 
 
What happened to the concern? he begrudgingly thought. Owen lifted his catch to his face to 
finally have a look at it. A painting, was it? But, it wasn’t like any sort of painting he’d ever 
seen. It wasn’t even paint under the glass. 
 
Frowning, he turned to head back towards the pavement. “I have it, but I can’t tell- Shit!” His 
shoes caught the canvas and he was falling. He tried to prepare himself for the impact of 
smashing into glass, but it never came. Instead, he landed, face first, onto a solid surface.  
 
Owen blinked his brown eyes and took several deep breaths. He twitched his fingers, his 
shoulders and then his legs. Nothing broken, just sore, very sore. He lifted his head slowly. There 
was no glass scattered around him, no wet grass under his hands, no lamplight, no houses! 
Gingerly Owen moved his bruised body to its feet. The sun was out. Why was the sun out?  

 
Beneath his feet lay a white stone path that led to an open gateway in front of him. Beyond he 
could see many people and buildings; it looked vaguely familiar. 
 
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed when he realized what he was seeing. He stepped backwards 
quickly, very confused. What was going on? And then he thought, fearfully; where was that alien 
parcel he had been holding? 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE  

 

“Alien artwork? You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Susie Costello, as she glanced over at 
Torchwood’s genius technician, Toshiko Sato.  
 
“I don’t know what else to call it,” she confessed, typing on her computer. “You saw it for 
yourself. The images move! They completely change shape, color, and even style. It’s either 
alien or from the future, but Jack thinks it’s from another planet.” 
 
“I didn’t see much before Jack grabbed it and covered it up. It looked like a sophisticated screen 
saver if you ask me.” 
 
“This is more complicated than that, Susie. That thing, whatever it is, took Owen!” 
 
Susie snorted at this. It had to be one of the most ridiculous specimens she had encountered since 
joining Torchwood. “From the CCTV,” Susie pointed to the footage on Toshiko’s computer, “it 
doesn’t look like he was snatched. One moment he was there, holding it and then the idiot fell 
into it.”  
 
“He could be dead, Susie! Don’t you care?” 
 
“Of course, I care. But I can’t wrap my mind around this.” 
 
“Think Alice and the Looking-Glass,” a voice said from behind her. 
  
Susie jumped in surprise and turned to face her Captain. “Christ, Jack! I didn’t hear you come 
over.” 
 
Captain Jack Harkness flashed a grin at her. “I’m stealthy. So, it seems we have some sort of 
artistic porthole and it’s been under our noses for the last ten years or so.” 
 
“Is that how long the owner of the house said he’s had it?” 
 
Jack nodded. “Yeah, right before all hell broke loose and he locked himself in a panic room. But 
I don’t completely believe him. Geoffrey Dear has been on Torchwood’s list of ‘persons of 

interest’ since the 80s. He’s never caused a problem, but he or one of his assistants has been 
spotted at a few underground, shall we say, specialty auctions.” 
 
Tosh turned to face her boss. “And we’ve never stopped him from purchasing items before?” 
 
Jack shrugged. “He didn’t buy anything dangerous. Well, we didn’t think he did. And I’m not 
Yvonne Hartman. I wonder if Mr. Dear knows exactly what this painting is capable of?” 
 
“I wonder if we do.” Tosh mumbled. 
 
Slapping his hands together loudly Jack began to divulge his plan of action. “Alright ladies, lots 
to get done. Susie, go round to Dear’s manse and have a chat with him.” 
 
“Think he’s out of his coward room?” Susie asked snidely. 
 
“It has a time lock feature on it. Should open up in,” Jack fiddled with the buttons on his wrist 
strap, a mischievous look on his face as he overrode Mr. Dear’s programming, “an hour. Find out 
if he has any background on this artwork, and find out who got it for him. Even black market 
dealers have purchase of sales receipts. See if you can’t get him to show you more of his 
collection while you’re at it. If need be, we’ll do a complete sweep whether he likes it or not. 
There’s Retcon in the med bay. Make sure he gets it before you leave.” Susie rushed off to get 
the amnesia pills. “Tosh, we need to run some tests on this painting, find out where it’s from, 
find out what that guy scratched off it before he ran off. Grab your scanner and meet me in the 
cells.” 
 
“But, Jack, we can’t expose this to testing! What about Owen? What if something happens to 
him or to the painting during the scans?” 
 
“No choice, Tosh. Unless you think a blanket search through the database of ‘Alien Art’ is going 
to help, we have to examine it.” Jack turned away, but quickly added with a smirk, “And don’t 
try it. You’d be amazed what some species consider art!” 
 
Tosh sighed, knowing her Captain was right. They had no idea what the painting was or where it 
originated. Opening her desk drawer, she removed her trusty hand scanner. It wasn’t invasive, 
but she didn’t think she could garner much information from it either. But, it was all she had for 
the moment. First things first, she wanted to know what it was made of. 
 
 
When she arrived in the cells, Jack was waiting for her with the painting set up on a table, 
leaning against the wall. The covering was folded up beside it. 
 
“Why have you brought it down here?” Tosh asked as she readied her scanner. 
 
“Worst case scenario. This way, if anything catastrophic occurs, it will be deep underground and 
hopefully wouldn’t impact the population.” 
 

“Except for us,” she murmured. 
 
“Part of the job, Tosh. You knew that when you joined.” Tosh merely nodded her head. “So,” 
Jack began, “I have good news and bad news.” Tosh waited for Jack to choose which to deliver 
first. “I think I have an idea what that thief took from the frame.” Jack gestured to the bottom of 
it, where, at the center, was a circular gouge, marring the bright gold frame. 
 
“So, what is the bad news?” 
 
Jack reached into his pocket and took out a five pence piece. He turned it over in front of Tosh’s 
eyes. “One ordinary coin.” He stepped back and threw it at the picture. Tosh instinctively ducked 
away from the impending impact. But nothing happened. She turned to Jack; his expression was 
blank. Hesitantly, she took a step towards the painting. As she reached out to touch the surface, 
Jack clamped his hand tightly around her wrist.  
 
“Don’t,” he warned. He released her hand and stepped back once more, his eyes back on the 
moving images. 
 
“It’s open,” Tosh said. “It’s still open. But, the glass-” 
 
“Obviously, not your average, tempered glass. Whatever was at the bottom there must have 
stabilized the portal. When we were at the mansion we all touched the glass and none of us fell 
through.” 
 
“Does it go both ways?” Jack let out a loud laugh at that. Tosh blushed at her unintended 
innuendo. “I mean if things from here can enter the painting, can things from the painting enter 
here?” 
 
“I suppose that would depend on if anything is alive in there. Besides Owen, that is.” 
 
“If he’s still alive.” 
 
“We’re getting him back, Tosh. I’d go in right now if I thought it would help, but it won’t, not 
yet. We need more information. Now, I know you’ve seen some strange things since being here, 
but why would aliens create a portal to somewhere just to have it kill what’s inside? There are 
much easier ways to get that done. My guess is that it’s a prison or containment space. The best 
thing we can do for him is to start these scans. How about base materials scan first? Check this 
covering. It seems ordinary enough, but we never know.” 
 
Tosh ran her scanner slowly along the edge of the material. “Did it come from Mr. Dear’s 
mansion?” 
 
“Couldn’t say. I was a bit preoccupied.” When the tech finally got hold of him on the comms, he 
had only recently revived from a broken neck. Of course, he didn’t say that. He said that both he 
and Susie had been knocked unconscious for a few minutes. And since that indeed did happen to 
Susie, no one was there to witness his death or his resurrection. 

 
Jack crossed his arms over his chest and watched Toshiko work. He didn’t care about lying to his 
team, not anymore. It worried him a little bit in the beginning because this was his team, hand 
picked. They were all special, but they were still very human. No, he couldn’t trust them with 
this secret, couldn’t trust them to keep it or to stay with Torchwood once they learned it. He did 
not want to have to recruit other members; finding this group was hard enough! They weren’t 
perfect, but they functioned well, each one doing their jobs and adapting quickly to all of this 
new and scary knowledge of alien life. Jack did not want to risk becoming an additional scary 
thing in their lives.  
 
Pulling himself out of his reverie, he turned to his brilliant technician. “Anything interesting 
yet?” 
 
“Only if you if find analysing Earth made fabrics and Welsh dirt interesting.” 
 
“Well, it’s not in my top five list of pastimes.” Jack turned to the picture. “Alright, my pretty, 
where are you from?” he asked it. His eyes roved over it, captivated by the undulating colors as 
they formed landscapes, then buildings and oceans. Each image lasted only a few seconds, long 
enough to make out a few details, but vanishing before Jack could take in all of the beauty. It 
truly was gorgeous and Jack could understand why someone would want to own it. He was sure 
he could waste many an hour lost in this work.  
 
“It’s extraordinary.” Tosh commented, equally enthralled with this alien masterpiece before 
them. Tearing her eyes away from it, she looked up at Jack. “What do you think happened to 
Owen? Where is he?” 
 
Jack looked into Tosh’s dark eyes, wide and glistening with concern. He felt a lead weight drop 
in his stomach. His beautiful, smart, naïve Toshiko had a thing for his abrasive medic, who 
seemed forever in mourning, a medic who was also sleeping with Susie. What a tangled web. 
This was one reason why Jack kept his romances out of Torchwood. Not that he had any recently 
to speak of, and not that the ones in recent past were worthy of discussion anyway. Jack sighed, 
for both him and Toshiko. Seeing that glimmer, that crack in Tosh’s work persona, revealing the 
depth of feeling, reminded him why love was both grand and why he was better off without it. 
There was work to be done.  “Like I said,” Jack began to answer her question, “Looking Glass. 
He’s somewhere in there.” 
 
“Surrounded by all these bright colors, he must be going crazy!” She gave a half-hearted laugh, 
which Jack return equally. They lapsed into silence as Tosh continued her work, the occasional 
beep from the scanner the only noise breaking the tension.  
 
“I think I might have something, Jack,” Tosh said after several minutes. “The frame is not made 
of Earth material.” She glanced at the readings on the back of her device. “I’ll have more 
information upstairs, but it seems like some kind of alloy.” 
 
“It’s a start. Keep going. I’ll be back in a minute.” 
 

Tosh did as instructed. Her initial scanning was just completing when Jack reappeared, a digital 
camera and a tripod in his hands.  
 
“Home movie time!” he exclaimed in answer to her confused expression. He began to set up the 
equipment directly in front of the painting. “I’ve navigated the feed from the camera to our 
monitors. That way we can keep an eye on it from there.” 
 
“What are you hoping to see, Jack?” 
 
“A pattern? Maybe these movements aren’t as random as we think they are. We’ll take turns 
watching the images, maybe take some stills and run a program to compare them. Who knows? 
Maybe we’ll get lucky and see a flying banner that says: ‘Owen’s here. Please take him back!’” 
 
Tosh ignored the joke as she turned off her scanner. “I’m going to head up and start sifting 
through this data.” 
 
 
It was well into the following day before they had any leads. Tosh sat at her terminal, trying to 
find matches to the compounds her scanner picked up on the frame. Jack and Susie were shut in 
Jack’s office, presumably discussing Susie’s findings at the Dear house. And the monitors were 
showing the continual changing images from the cells. That was one mystery solved; the pictures 
ran in about a two-hour loop. They still did not understand why or what it meant, but it was 
something. Wherever this portal went, it consistently revisited those places.  
 
With a weary sigh, Tosh rose and made her way over to the kitchenette to grab a few biscuits. 
Luckily, there were a few chocolate ones left in the package; she needed some sugar. Her eyes 
wandered up to her Captain. She could see him pacing back and fourth, his hands stuffed deep 
into his pockets. Over the last few hours, she kept hearing raised voices. Jack’s frustration was 
growing increasingly. She recalled his determination when they began the scan the previous 
evening. He seemed calm, his confidence never wavering. But that seemed to change with the 
sunrise. Jack was worried and that made Tosh more concerned than ever.  
 
As she chomped on her treat, mulling over last night’s events for the hundredth time, a loud beep 
filled the Hub. Tosh quickly ran over to her computer. She could hear Jack and Susie bounding 
out of the office. 
 
“What is it? What have you found?” Jack demanded. 
 
Tapping the keys of her computer, Tosh quickly read the information that flashed before her. 
“It’s that alloy I found on the frame. There is a match in the database.” 
 
“To a planet? A species? What?!” 
 
“Calm down, Jack,” Susie said, glaring at him. “Give the girl a second to read it.” 
 

Jack took a deep breath, but it just made him tenser. He waited impatiently tapping his finger 
against his crossed arms while Tosh hit a few more keys. 
 
“Alright, it looks like Torchwood has seen objects made of this material before, a very long time 
ago. It was catalogued as being manufactured on a planet called Dulrilkl, species…” her voice 
trailed off as she tried to figure out the pronunciation. 
 
Jack leaned over her to read the screen. “Fogniaccztir,” he supplied.  
 
“Have you heard of them?” Susie asked. 
 
“Yeah, I have.” 
 
“Dangerous?” 
 
“No, not really, not unless provoked.” 
 
“Well, that’s good, yes?” Tosh commented, still scrolling through the information. “If they aren’t 
dangerous, than that painting downstairs might not be harmful either.” 
 
“True,” Jack agreed. “But the problem is not their behavior; it’s their location. Dulrilkl is light 
years away. We need to find some way of contacting them now. We might not get a reply back 
for ages. And while this might not be immediately harmful to Owen, being stuck away from your 
home world, all alone…” He did need to finish the sentence. Both Susie and Tosh knew what it 
felt like to be alone amongst their own society and that was bad enough. “Okay, so, we need to 
find out all we can about these aliens. Tosh get the database going.” 
 
“Already doing it,” she informed him. 
 
“Good, while that’s running, get the translator program up. If it can’t translate their native 
tongue, then there are about half a dozen basic intergalactic languages they might know. Susie, 
with me.” Jack turned and started to jog towards the stairs. 
 
“And where are we going?” she asked, trailing after him. 
 
“Archives!” 
 
“What the hell do you hope to find down there?!” No one went into the archives, if they could 
help it. All of the recent finds were piled up in one area for easy, if messy, retrieval. Otherwise, 
the rest of the objects, files and detritus were aimlessly scattered around the shelves and alcoves. 
Jack mentioned several times that he wanted to organize it, but it became more of a joke over 
time and just sat there, taunting them with its nonsensical stacks.  
 
“A faster way to contact Dulrilkl besides sending a message out into the universe and hope that 
they respond in the next ten years.” 
 

“And we have something somewhere in the archives?” 
 
“Somewhere, yes. Alex found it a few years back. Never really said where, just that the Rift spat 
it out one night. I’ve never had much need for it.” 
 
“And what exactly is it?” 
 
“Think of it like an alien operator.” 
 
When Jack offered no further explanation, Susie pushed on. “So, it has their phone number and 
we can then just ring them up directly?” 
 
Jack snickered. “No, that would be silly. We contact the operator, give it the address and then it 
contacts them with who we are and that we want to discuss the retrieval of one of their portals.” 
 
“And do we need to worry about nosy listeners during this exchange?” Susie asked, sarcastically.  
 
Jack looked at her incredulously. “It’s not an actual being, Susie. It’s tech. If it were alive, I 
certainly wouldn’t keep it in the archives. In the cells maybe, but there aren’t many creatures out 
there that I would subject to the nightmare that is our archives.”  
 
As they entered the first alcove of the archives, Susie had to agree with the reference. The mess 
was even worse than the last time she visited the dark and depressing place. “Oh, Jack, you can’t 
be serious. We’ll never find it.” 
 
Jack stepped forward and picked up the nearest box. It was full to the brim with items marked 
“small and not harmful.” He passed it to his second-in-command. “We have to.” 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

      

CHAPTER TWO

 

 
It had been almost three days since Owen’s disappearance and Jack had never felt so short 
staffed. Not only were they working on how to get Owen back, but also the weevil population 
decided to make its presence known in several public locations. The three of them were all 
exhausted, their hope slipping little by little. The girls were doing what they could and Jack was 
trying his hardest to stay calm while waiting for a response from his message to Dulrilkl. Finding 
the Operator, as they now called it, turned out to be the easy part. Getting it to work after being 
shoved in a corner for a few years took about double the time. But Jack, forsaking any sort of 
rest, got it working and sent out their message. He figured it would take a few hours at the least 
to receive a response, but as they neared the six-hour mark, Jack began to worry that his repair 
job was not good enough. 
 
“Anything yet?” 
 

Jack looked up from the device clutched in his large hands. There in the doorway was his loyal 
Toshiko, dark circles around her eyes and a takeaway cup of coffee in her hand. “Please tell me 
that is for me,” Jack practically begged.  
 
“It is. Susie ran out a little while ago to that café round the corner. Since you refuse to shut your 
eyes, I thought we’d at least help you keep them open.” Tosh crossed to his desk and placed the 
cup before him. “No answer yet?” 
 
The Captain shook his head as he took a large gulp of coffee. “Oh, that is better already,” he 
grinned.  
 
“Glad it helps.” 
 
Beep, beep. Beep, beep. 
 
“A message?” Tosh asked in a whisper. 
 
Jack looked at the device, its small screen displaying text in the alien language. A blinding smile 
spread across the Captain’s handsome face. “Toshiko Sato, you more than help! You just might 
be my good luck charm!” Jack jumped out of his chair and headed out into the Hub. 
 
Tosh followed eagerly. “It’s either me or the coffee,” she joked. At her station, the translation 
program was running, conveying the typed message from Jack’s device into English. It only took 
several seconds for the program to work out the short message. 
 
“’Thank you for the notification. Please keep gateway safe. It is quite valuable to us. Has it been 
harmed? Signed, Gaetiezzé, Guardian of the gateway,’” Tosh read out loud. 
 
“Guardian?” Susie questioned.  
 
“Sounds fancy,” Jack commented. “This is good; they want it back. I’m going to write back to 
them right now and ask how to get Owen out of there. If it took almost six hours for the first 
message to be read and another to be returned, then we need to act fast!” Jack ran off to write his 
response to the Fogniaccztir.  
 
Like clockwork, six hours later they had their newest communication. 
 
“They don’t know?!” Jack hollered, his booming voice echoing around the Hub. 
 
“It’s never happened before, not in their memory at least.” Tosh reread the message again. “They 
stress that we should not enter the gateway. They will research on their end and see what can be 
done. The Guardian said that he would be making his way here after the research is complete. 
That’s something, isn’t it?” 
 
“It’s not enough! Owen has been inside that thing for three days. Three days!” Jack dragged his 
fingers through his hair and pulled the ends. All sense of hope and calm vanished and all that 

remained was the Captain’s determination. He wasn’t going to leave a man behind, not if he 
could help it. And thanks to his mysterious gift, he could afford to do what these aliens warned 
him not to do.  “I’m going after him.” 
 
Susie grabbed Jack’s shoulders and squeezed tightly. “You can’t! You don’t even know where 
Owen is. You might not end up in the same place.” 
 
“I’ve thought of that. Tosh, pull up the CCTV of Owen. If we enhance it to see what he was 
looking at when he fell through, chances are, if I jump into that image, I’ll be in the same place.” 
 
“Chances are? You are risking yourself and Owen on ‘chances are’? And making our job all the 
more difficult. We’ll have two idiots to retrieve instead of the one!” 
 
Jack viciously tugged himself free from Susie’s grip. “So what? We wait? How long, Susie? 
How long are you willing to stand here and watch those pictures flip over and over? That seems 
to be all we’ve being doing lately and I can’t do it any longer.” 
 
“I agree with Jack,” Tosh said, standing beside him. 
 
“Of course you do. You’d do anything to get Owen back, wouldn’t you?’ Susie sneered.  
 
“Why won’t you?” Tosh fired back, though she couldn’t hide the blush from her cheek.  
 
“I’m not completely heartless, you know. I’m worried about him as well. But, this doesn’t make 
sense. Jack, if you go, we’ll only have the two of us running these programs, programs that you 
understand more than we do. We’re possibly dealing with intergalactic policies and Tosh and I 
have no training in that whatsoever. If you jump in there, directly violating their request, you’re 
putting all of us in danger.” 
 
“We’re always in danger, Susie, or have you missed that over the last year? What we do is 
dangerous.” 
 
“All the more reason to keep our heads in these situations.” 
 
Jack sighed and shook his head. “Look, you two will stay and keep talking to them. Just get them 
here. Then figure a way to get us out and we can deal with any intergalactic repercussions. In the 
mean time, I’m going to find Owen and keep him safe. I trust you two to get us out of there.” 
 
And with that, the decision had been made. Jack showed Susie how to work the Operator while 
Tosh found the image Owen was staring at before he fell into the portal. All of their tasks and 
preparation were carried out with a minimal amount of talking, the tension still filling the Hub. 
 
As they worked, it became obvious just how tired they all were. Susie insisted if Jack was going 
to risk his life and jump into the unknown, then he had to be at his best. She shooed him down to 
his bunker below his office for a few hours rest. The image they were looking for wasn’t due to 
return to the painting for a while anyway. Toshiko followed suit on similar orders, shortly 

thereafter. She rested on the old couch, still close to her programs in case she was needed. Susie 
kept watch. 
 
Life at Torchwood was beyond what the second-in-command imagined when Captain Jack 
Harkness had swooped down most unexpectedly and offered her a position. She loved it, truly. 
She loved the action, the technology, and the chance to unravel secrets of the universe. What she 
didn’t love was the constant feeling of isolation. She was used to it; her whole life was made up 
of painful partings, to the point where she chose disconnection. But Susie had hoped, perhaps 
naively, that working for this amazing man, so confident and bold, so full of mystery, would 
change that. Everyone at Torchwood 3 had secrets and they all had a big one to keep from the 
rest of the world. However, Susie quickly discovered that this shared knowledge of alien life, of 
the paranormal, was not going to bind anyone together. Every day, she felt it tearing them apart. 
Losing Owen only proved her belief.  It had nothing to do with Owen personally, though she did 
admit that she relied on their evening trysts to escape her loneliness. Logically, Susie did not see 
the point in risking her Captain’s life to save the medic. It left them too vulnerable to the outside. 
It left her vulnerable as the leader in charge.  
 
Torchwood definitely provides perspective on one’s life, but in Susie’s case, it made her face 
some of the pitfalls in her personal makeup.  
 
She chose to swallow her feelings down for the time being, put on her stoic face and support 
Jack’s decision. His word was final, as always.  
 
 
The choice whether to wake her Captain up or not was taken out of her hands when he appeared 
after four hours, fully dressed in his military coat and a grim look in his eyes.  
 
“Wake up Toshiko. It’s time.” 
 
The three remaining members of Torchwood 3 stood in front of the painting, the cold dankness 
of the cells seeped into their skin. Silently, they watched and waited for the picture to appear.  
 
“As soon as we see it, I jump. These pictures don’t stay long, so I’m not going to waste time. 
You two know what you need to do. Just don’t start any planetary wars while I’m gone.” Jack 
turned to the women on either side of them, a grin on his face. “We can do that when I’m home.” 
 
“You joke,” began Susie, “but it could happen.” 
 
“Nah, doubtful. These aliens are peaceful and they’ve been cooperative. They want this painting 
badly enough, they’ll get us out of it. It would be better all around if they did that while still on 
Earth. I don’t fancy having to hitch-hike all the way back here again.” 
 
“So, get the aliens here, keep them here, don’t start a war, get you out of the painting while still 
on the planet. Anything else you’d like us to do while you’re gone?” 
 
“I’ll miss you too, Susie.” 

 
“Jack?’ Tosh interrupted. “Get ready.” 
 
Jack took several deep breaths and focused his eyes on the shifting pictures. It was full of colour, 
pinks and oranges giving way to the dark blues of twilight. But, it was the skyline he recognised; 
a city, with buildings of various sizes outlined in shadow. The CCTV could not pick up more 
detail than that, but it was enough. And without so much as a goodbye or good luck, Jack 
jumped. 
 
 
The landing had been jarring, not the worst Jack ever experienced, but hard enough to knock the 
wind from his body. It took him several moments before he was ready to move. As he stood, he 
considered his new surroundings. Jack wasn’t sure what he expected, a two-dimensional, painted 
landscape or an obviously alien colony. He saw neither of those things. Everything looked real, 
by human standards. The sky was the same pallet as when he jumped, the gateway in front of 
him looked like brick and wrought iron. Jack reached out to feel the textures. They were, just as 
he would find on any street in his adopted city.  
 
Jack walked through the gate and gasped at the scene before him. It was gorgeous! Wherever he 
was, it was a beautiful example of European architecture. Before him was a city square with 
rows of old world buildings lined the narrow, cobblestone covered the streets. In the waning 
light, Jack could tell that some of the facades of the buildings were brightly colored, while others 
wore their age with pride in their brick, stucco or wooden materials. Windows were open to the 
slightly balmy air and curtains danced with a light breeze. They were not the only ones dancing, 
however. All around, Jack saw people, all humanoid in appearance. They were moving around 
the square, laughing, kissing, and seemingly enjoying a glorious, carefree warm evening. Some 
were sat at café tables, pouring wine into companions’ glasses. Others stood in front of shops, 
admiring the contents inside. And, yes, a few were dancing to the music evocative chords of an 
accordion being played on a nearby bench.  
 
Jack felt his heart swell. Everywhere he looked, he saw a moment waiting to be captured. A 
woman caught her heel between two cobbles and her male companion lifted her out of the shoe 
before she tumbled to the ground. A small dog pawed its owner’s trouser leg, its eyes gazing 
longingly at an assortment of delicious smelling food. Two young men, dressed stylishly in 
jackets and jeans, sat shoulder-to-shoulder, singing along to the accordion player’s tune, their 
fingers gently entwined. Jack listened; it was Gershwin’s, “Nice Work If You Can Get It.” 
Where had he landed? 
 
If Jack had to guess, based on first impressions, he would have suspected he was in Paris, circa 
1950. However, there were several modern conveniences that knocked that date out, as well as 
some signage that was most definitely not written in French. Jack strolled amongst the citizens of 
this enchanting place, trying to pick up clues or any indications as to where and when he was. 
After several minutes, and returning several genuine smiles, he was still lost. Jack weighed his 
options. If he blatantly asked where he was, there was a real chance these people would think 
him a nutter and call authorities. However, if he said he was looking for a friend, his confusion 
would only work to his benefit. So, he needed to find Owen and gather information on this city 

in the process. Jack looked once more at his surroundings and tried to think of what Owen would 
do upon first arriving in this place, assuming he landed in the same part of town as Jack. The 
Captain smiled and turned towards the nearest bar.   
 
  
 

 

 

 

        
 
        

CHAPTER THREE 

 
Either Jack was an extremely lucky man or Fate had a divine plan for him; he was inclined to 
think the former. But whatever the reason, Jack was grateful as it took a relatively short amount 
of time to find Owen. It was old-fashioned detective work and Jack was reminded of his early 
days with Torchwood.  
 
The little he could ascertain just by looking in shop windows and eavesdropping on bits of 
conversation, Jack was pretty sure he was in an alternate Earth universe. He believed the city was 
called Parí, as he had seen it in print a few times. While pleased that his first instincts about his 
location were not too far off the mark, it made him curious about the evolution of this world’s 
society. He heard variations of American, English, French, German and Italian accents, but the 
most dominant language, surprisingly, was an intermingling of French and English.  
 
Jack kept a running list of questions and observations, the subtle changes here and there from the 
Paris he knew well. However, there were some things that seemed never changing and the power 
of the Harkness charm was one of them. 
 
In each place he visited, Jack flirted with the waiting staff and the regulars, earning him a few 
free drinks, which he accepted out of politeness, as well as many offers of company. Those he 
turned down graciously and left a few men and women in hope of a rain check. This world was 
not short of beautiful people! Once he found Owen, Jack had every intention of sampling the 
local flavors while waiting for Tosh and Susie to rescue them.  
 
Jack snorted. At first encounter, there didn’t seem to be much need of rescue, more like pulling 
him away from a mini-break. He wondered how much exploration Owen had done so far.  
 
Jack was just leaving yet another, lovely, heavily patronized café when he was stopped by a 
man’s voice, addressing him. 
 
“Hey, mate, you’re looking for Owen Harper?”  
 
Jack turned towards the man. He was built like a former rugby player, with light brown hair and 
an open expression on his attractive face, which was not unlike the other people around him. 
What was different was the distinctly Welsh lilt in his speech. 
 
“Do you know him?” Jack asked. 
 

“Londoner, short, dark eyes, usually plodding around muttering something tasteless and 
disagreeable?”  
 
Jack gave a laugh and a grin. “That’s him. He told me to meet him down here, but I forgot the 
name of the place.” 
 
The man laughed at Jack, as if knowing how many places he would have to search to find one 
person, or how many he already had. “Well, you’re not too far off then. He should be at the Bleu 
Allée by now. It’s just round the corner there,” the man said, pointing to the left. “No proper sign 
though, just look for the two gas lanterns on the side of the building and go through the gate. 
Henri should be there to open the door.”   
 
Jack smiled and stuck out his hand. “Thanks, friend. I appreciate it.” 
 
“No problem.” 
 
Jack looked at the man again, gauging his first impression of him. He seemed genuinely nice and 
the few friends he had with him listened politely to the conversation. Jack trusted his instincts. 
“So, you’re friends with Owen?” 
 
The man shrugged. “Not really. We work together, I guess you could say.” 
 
Jack held in his surprise. Work? What had Owen been doing and more worryingly, for how 
long? “Well, I’ll probably see you around then. Thanks again.” 
 
Jack left quickly and followed the directions he’d been given. 
 
He entered the Bleu Allée, the door indeed held open by Henri, a tall, roguish black man with 
stunning, long braids secured at the back with a hair tie. Jack wouldn’t have minded chatting 
with him for a while, maybe twine his finger around those braids, but he refrained. He was too 
close to finding Owen. But, a quick glance of the crowd made Jack frown. He couldn’t see his 
wayward teammate, couldn’t hear his voice break through the happy chatter.  
 
This place, this club, was not very well lit. Tea lights were set on each round table and the light 
fixtures hanging from the ceiling were dimmed. Deciding against weaving through all of the 
tables and chairs in search of Owen, Jack headed to the bar and inquired there. The guy at the 
last café made it seem like Owen was a regular patron. Several people were waiting for service 
from the two barmen, so Jack used the time to assess his surroundings.  
 
It was deceptively small, much longer than it was wide. The walls were all exposed red brick. 
Like an alley, Jack thought, except for the wall across from the entrance. That was made of floor-
to-ceiling curtain; several gaps in the fabric created doorways to other areas of the club, probably 
the loops, kitchen and perhaps a backstage area for performers. Jack noticed a raised platform at 
the back of the room; a baby grand piano and several micas and stands stood waiting for the next 
musicians.  
 

“What’ll you have?” 
 
Jack looked over at the barman, a plain looking older gentleman, but one not unworthy of the 
patented Harkness smile. “Actually, I’m looking for someone. You haven’t seen a guy named 
Owen Harper in here tonight, have you?” 
 
The barman, unphased by Jack, just continued to pull the taps. “He’s out back, getting ready for 
his shift. Should be out in a few minutes.” 
 
So, Owen worked for the club. There was no way he would be a waiter, but he might make a 
decent barman. “Thanks.”  
 
“Did you want a drink?” 
 
“Just water when you get the chance.” 
 
The barman nodded and passed full glasses to waiting patrons.  
 
After a few minutes, as promised, Jack saw his teammate emerge from behind the wall of 
curtains. Jack stood tall hoping to catch his attention, but Owen kept his head down and his eyes 
lowered as he made his way towards the stage. 
 
The Captain was stunned when Owen sat down at the piano and began to play… and play well! 
He listened for a moment then chuckled; Owen was playing jazz. The doctor looked lost in his 
music as he plunked out an improvisation of, “Peel Me A Grape.” Jack always loved that tune 
and had seduced many a lover to it back in the day. He found himself humming and softly 
singing along with Owen. 
 
Jack leaned back against the bar, sipped his water and watched the set. It was a pleasant variation 
of standards and new stylisations of popular songs. There were a few that Jack couldn’t place at 
all and he wondered is they were local favorites. Judging by the audience response to them, it 
was certainly a possibility.  
 
Owen seemed to be known to the crowd as well. The patrons watched him, applauded for him, 
but also paid him little attention at times, choosing to chat to their neighbours instead. Owen had 
been in this world long enough to need a job, but not long enough to be a headlining act.  
 
 
By the end of Owen’s set, Jack was getting antsy. The music was great, the atmosphere was 
enjoyable, but Jack’s guilt grew. Even with all the positive attention from the crowd, Owen 
barely smiled. He was functioning on automatic pilot, going through the motions, only showing 
interest when he was playing. Maybe this world was not all fun and excitement. 
 
Owen left the stage to enthusiastic applause and came directly towards the bar. He didn’t look up 
as he shouted a request for a beer. It was only when he took his first big swig of his drink that he 
noticed person a few feet away from him.  

 
“Hi, Owen.” Jack greeted him with a sad grin. 
 
Owen set his glass back on the bar, a few drops splashed out and onto the shiny surface. He 
started to breathe heavily, his eyes widened at the sound of his Captain’s voice. “Jack?” 
 
He nodded. “It’s me.” 
 
Owen swallowed thickly, pushing his emotions down. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded 
vigorously. When he opened them again, there were tears sparkling in them. He stood up quickly 
and walked past Jack to the door of the club. 
 
Jack quickly followed and found him leaning his forehead against the side of the building. 
“Owen? Are you okay?” 
 
The doctor chuckled and a sneer appeared on his face. “Am I okay?” he repeated quietly. “Four 
weeks. Four fucking weeks, Jack!” He spun around to look at him, his fists clenched tightly by 
his sides. “I’ve been stuck here for almost a month and in you waltz with your fucking coat and 
smiles, and you want to know if I’m okay? Where the bloody hell have you been?” His shoulders 
started to shake as the first tears fell onto his cheeks. “Where have you been?” 
 
Without thinking, Jack pulled his teammate into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry, Owen. I’m sorry I 
didn’t get here sooner.” His voice may have sounded calm and soothing, but inside, Jack was 
twisted in knots.  
 
Owen pulled away from Jack after a few moments, and scrubbed his face with his hands, wiping 
away the last of his tears. “So, when do we get out of here?” he asked, putting his harsh mask 
back in place.  
 
“I don’t know,” Jack answered honestly. 
 
“What do you mean you don’t know? It took you this long to find me and you’re making me stay 
here even longer?” 
 
Jack weighed his options carefully. Was it best to tell Owen the truth now, while he was so raw, 
or should he wait until they were some place more secluded? He sighed. “Owen, it maybe have 
been a month for you, but it was about four days for us.” 
 
Owen blinked his brown eyes several times as he took in that sentence. He inhaled deeply and 
slowly. “Fuck.” 
 
 
 
Explanations followed. Owen went first. 
 

Having retrieved the younger man’s coat from the club, the two walked towards his flat. On the 
way, he told Jack everything that had happened to him. He landed in the same place as Jack, at 
that strange gate with the plaque. He stumbled around, trying to find out where and when he was, 
only growing more confused at the similarities to his own universe. Feeling tired and frustrated, 
he found himself in the Bleu Allée. It was dark, had alcohol and music to distract him for a few 
moments. He ordered a drink and asked for the barman to keep them coming. 
 
It was slow so the barman kept talking to him, but Owen made all of his answers vague. After a 
few glasses, he was preparing to run out on the bill when he noticed several notes of currency 
fall off the bar. He bent to pick it up and noticed that they looked very similar to the English 
pounds in his wallet. He wondered if the barman would pay enough attention to Owen’s money 
or if he would just accept it.  
 
Owen’s instinct was right; no one noticed the subtle difference.  
 
“So, I asked the barman if he knew of a place to stay for the night, somewhere cheap. He gave 
me the name of a place, even rung them up to see if they had a room for me. A few days later, I 
came back. The barman there, Tony’s his name, was a nice bloke and I felt like some mindless 
conversation. Well, that night, there was this guy playing the piano in a band. I thought he was 
shit and said so. Tony asked if I could do better. I said yes I could. Then he told me about a job 
opening at the club. I played for the owner, got the job, moved into a flat and that’s about it.” 
 
“Have you figured anything out about this place? The history of it?” 
 
Owen shrugged. “I read some bits of history about it in the local bookstore, but it doesn’t help. 
There’s no talk of aliens or magical paintings that transport unsuspecting people into their world. 
It reads like the history of Earth, but with a few major differences.” 
 
“I noticed. No Eiffel Tower that I can see.” 
 
“Not yet. They’re still finishing up the plans for it. It’s going to be a focal point at the Summer 
Olympics here in a few years,” Owen said, his voice slightly disdainful. “No Euro either, at least 
not in this country.” Jack didn’t have a comment for that, so he just nodded.  
 
As the two men entered Owen’s building and climbed the stone stairs to the fourth floor, Jack 
couldn’t help but notice the distressed beauty of the place and the quaint street they left behind. 
“This is a nice area.” 
 
“There aren’t that many bad areas around here, or didn’t you notice? The city is bloody postcard. 
This building is an all artists’ dwelling. Small space, cheap rent, but it looks oh so pretty and 
inspiring.” 
 
Jack laughed at Owen’s mocking. Yet, he couldn’t help agree with the description. 
 
“So, your turn, Harkness. What have you been doing for the last few days?” 
 

Jack told him everything he knew about the painting, the little he knew about the planet that 
owned it and the plan to get them out. Owen was not very impressed. 
 
“We wait? That’s your master rescue plan? Strand both of us here and while away the days 
waiting for Tosh and Susie to figure this out? You’re brilliant you are.”  
 
“Would you rather I have waited a few more days? A week? If every day in our world is a week 
for you, it could have been half a year before I came here.” 
 
“But, at least then we could have left here immediately!” Owen shouted, unlocking his door and 
letting them both inside.  
 
“Well, then I’m sorry that I was worried about you! I thought it would be better if you weren’t 
alone.” 
 
Owen snorted. “Sure, you care. Thank you, Captain, for your concern, but I was able to survive 
without you!” 
 
“You were still alone, Owen.” 
 
A tense silence filled the tiny space. Neither one wanted give in to the other. It was a typical 
dance for them. They got along well until they butted heads over something. Owen rarely gave in 
so Jack was forced to use the “I’m the boss” card and make him relent. But, stranded in a strange 
world, it didn’t matter who was the boss. 
 
Owen grunted and moved to his single bed. Grabbing a pillow and an extra blanket, he threw 
them on the floor. “You’re not taking my bed. You can sleep on the floor. And tomorrow we’ll 
sort out future arrangements. Do you have any money on you?” 
 
Jack smiled. “A little.” 
 
“You’ll need more because I’m not giving you mine. You’re getting a job.” 
 
“Yes, Mother.” 
 
“Shut it, Harkness. Go to sleep.” With that, Owen threw himself on top of his duvet and let out a 
long sigh, full of relief and a bit of frustration.  
 
As Jack settled into his makeshift bed, he couldn’t help but ask, “Is this place really so bad?” 
 
Owen didn’t answer immediately, but Jack could tell from his breathing that he was still awake. 
Finally he said, “S’not the point, is it?”  
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

          

      

CHAPTER FOUR 

 

Being a Time Agent from the 51

st

 century did have its benefits. Agents were knowledgeable in 

many different cultures, knew how to ingratiate themselves to the different species they 
encountered, and they also knew how to use all available resources to their advantage. 
 
As the first rays of morning poured through the shutters on Owen’s windows, Jack’s mind was 
already formulating a plan of survival. He needed a job, money, a place to stay that wasn’t 
Owen’s floor and a decent cover story for himself. Since this world was close to their own, Jack 
chose to keep his cover story as near to the truth as possible; there was no need to be elaborate 
yet. He was just an American transplanted in Wales, who was moving to Parí to be with his dear 
friend, Owen.  
 
As for the job, neither Owen nor Jack knew about any advanced technology or known alien 
activity in the area, so freelancing as a Torchwood agent was out. Jack actually enjoyed the idea 
of not being involved with alien activity for a while, well, as much as he could while in an 
alternate reality. He mulled over all of his work-related skills, and few less work-related, and 
tried to think of where to begin his search for a normal, everyday job. 
 
Coming up empty, Jack sought inspiration from the slowly awakening street below. Opening one 
of the shutter doors, no locks, screens or bars needed apparently, Jack stepped onto a French 
style balcony, placed his hands on the cool, dew dripped, wrought iron rail and surveyed the 
activity below. 
 
It was still quite early, but a few cafés were open, the hearty scent of bread wafting out of the 
open windows, and several street vendors were setting up their wares; fresh produce and flowers 
mainly. A few people were walking on the road, some obviously on their way to work, others 
strolling along, enjoying the relative peace of the morning hours. One person caught Jack’s eye. 
A pretty young woman, smartly attired in a flowered dress and cap, stepped out of the café 
across the street, holding what looked like a croissant in one hand and a takeaway cup of coffee 
in the other. Jack practically groaned; he could really use a cup of coffee and something to eat. 
Perhaps he’d venture out in a little while for some breakfast. Maybe he’d be nice a get some for 
Owen as well. There was definitely no food in his room. There wasn’t a bathroom let alone a 
kitchen. Jack wondered if there was a communal eating area, as there was a washroom.  
 
Shaking thoughts of food from his mind, Jack focused again on his work dilemma. Sitting on the 
rail Jack relaxed and once more became lost in the new world around him. Jack had visited Paris 
many times over the years, even during the Occupation on Torchwood business, and he could not 
help the combined feelings of familiarity and foreignness that swept over him. Sighing deeply, 
he closed his eyes to the sunshine and softly sang. 
 
“I love Paris in the springtime. I love Paris in the fall” 
 
“Jesus, Harkness,” came a grumbling voice. “You’re as bad as the birds. Just because you can 
sing, doesn’t mean you have to wake the world with that stupid song!” 
 

Jack laughed warmly. “No breakfast for you then!” He hopped off his perch and went back 
inside the room where a rumpled Owen was haphazardly making his bed. “And that song is not 
stupid. It’s older than you; pay it respect.” 
 
“If you had to play it every night it was requested, which is quite, quite often, you’d hate it too. 
And cringe when the crowd sings ‘Parí.” 
 
Just then, a light bulb went off in Jack’s head. Oh, it was perfect. Now he just needed to 
convince the right people of that fact, his current flatmate for starters. 
 
“Owen? Have you ever thought of adding something to your act?” 
 
“I don’t like your tone,” Owen said, suspiciously. “What are you on about?” 
 
Jack just smiled broadly, his perfect teeth gleaming. “I love Paris in the winter, when it drizzles” 
 
Owen’s eyes widen. “No! No, no. Not happening, Jack.”  
 
But, as he protested, Jack continued to sing joyfully, and victoriously. 
 
 
In the end, it didn’t take much to convince the owner of Bleu Allée that Jack would be a fine 
addition to Owen’s set; as soon as Jack started singing “I Love Paris,” or rather, “I Love Parí,” to 
Owen’s accompaniment, the decision was made. He wouldn’t sing every number, but a few here 
and there. When Jack mentioned that he also played a bit of piano, the owner, Maurice, got 
excited and talked about duet sets for the future. This revelation of Jack’s was news to the medic, 
but then he really didn’t know much about Jack at all. 
 
While Jack and Maurice worked out the details, Owen kept his arms crossed, his head down and 
his irritation to a minimum. Jack’s reasoning was not faulty. If they worked together it helped 
with the cover story, they stayed within each other’s sights if they were able to escape Parí 
quickly and, though Jack did not directly say, but it was felt, this way, they weren’t alone. Owen 
did not want to be alone anymore. Ever since he’d arrived, he’d felt less like his old self. He 
didn’t pull any of the girls he met. He felt insecure. Perhaps it was due to the piano playing. 
Lessons were Mother’s idea; jazz was his, much to her disappointment and disdain.   
 
“Excellent! We start tonight,” Jack said turning to Owen, pulling the younger man’s mind back 
from the past.  
 
Owen nodded his head. “Let’s work out a song list then.” 
 
For the rest of the day, that was exactly what they did, practicing their choices on an old, out of 
tune, upright piano that Maurice kept in a dusty storage room in the back of the club. Jack hadn’t 
had so much fun for a while. He truly loved singing, and despite Owen’s initial protests, he knew 
that the medic liked this new partnership. The two men, who originally came together over tragic 
events, were now sharing a different part of themselves. And this one was much more fun! 

 
That new camaraderie came into full force as the two men took to the small stage that evening. 
The sight of Owen drew the usual applause, but the handsome stranger garnered many intense 
stares. While Jack was used to people noticing him, he had not performed for a crowd in over 
forty years. He had butterflies! He looked to his pianist for support. And Owen gave it.  
 
“Alright, Jack?” he asked with a genuine smile. 
 
Jack smiled back, then turned to the audience and amped up his toothy grin. A few appreciative 
murmurs reached him ears. He chuckled. Owen played the first chords of their opening number. 
Jack could do this. 
 
 
All nerves vanished after that first number. The crowd loved them! Jack took the time while 
Owen played solos to watch the expressions on their faces. The ones he could see through the 
dim light were all happy, the older and the young patrons alike. Jack was practically bouncing 
with joy.  
 
But that joy was short lived and replaced with something quite different as he took to the mic for 
the last time that night. He sipped his reliable glass of water, nodded to Owen that he was ready, 
breathed in and felt his heart drop to his knees and bounce back into place. A few feet away from 
the stage, facing the other members of the table, was the most striking man! His hair was dark 
with a slight wave, a button nose above full, smirking lips, and those eyes! He couldn’t tell the 
color, but they had to be blue, Jack just knew it! They sparkled as he laughed and listened to his 
friends. Well, that wouldn’t do. 
 
With a new purpose in mind, Jack began his song, his voice clear and dripping with sensuality. 
 
 You got to my head and you linger like a haunting refrain 
And I find you spinning round in my brain  
Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne 
 
And it worked! As soon as those dulcet tones pervaded the air, Jack’s mystery man’s attention 
was right where it should be, wrapped around him. Jack didn’t want to seem too eager too 
quickly, so made sure that his own eyes wandered around the crowd, not lingering any one 
person for long. A little cat and mouse, a saucy smile and the jazz were enough for the moment.  
 
It was right as Jack repeated the final verse that he made sure to look at his beautiful young man, 
conveying that it was his eyes that intoxicated Jack.  As Owen played the final notes, the crowd 
erupted, some even stood with their ovations. Jack laughed, the dimples in his face showing, as 
he acknowledged Owen’s great work that evening with a gesture and a slight bow. Owen smiled 
and waved. Jack gave a bow once more to the audience before he hopped off the stage and 
headed behind the wall of curtains. 
 
Quickly, he grabbed a ready flannel and mopped the sweat along his brow and neck. Giving 
himself a quick once over in the mirror by the loos, he fluffed his hair, checked that his dress 

shirt was still tucked neatly into his trousers then reentered the club area. He needed to keep an 
eye on his new find, make sure that they met again. Whether it was done with covert looks or a 
verbal agreement, Jack didn’t care, just as long as that man was back at the club very, very soon. 
He didn’t know why this man captivated him so much. Jack had had many beautiful lovers, but 
the mere sight of that face… 
 
Jack shook his head and searched the crowd. He wasn’t at the table, which meant that he was 
either at the bar or had left. It was hard to tell from Jack’s vantage point, dark clothes blending 
into the shadows created by the lighting. So, Jack circumvented as many tables as he could, 
stopping only to take a compliment or two; he needed to get to the bar and see if his instincts 
were correct. 
 
Perhaps it was Fate that led him here, to this world, to this club, Owen and to this man. As Jack 
approached, the crowd in front of Tony parted for him. The barman stopped what he was doing 
to get Jack his glass of water. Jack nodded his thanks and looked down the length of the bar, 
searching. And there he was! At the far end, facing his direction was the young man. He was 
even more handsome than Jack had first thought, dressed in a well-cut suit and matching 
waistcoat and a baby blue dress shirt. His eyes were a gorgeous shade of blue, his skin pale and 
smooth. Oh, and he was tall, almost as tall as Jack. His hands, which were clasped on top of the 
bar, looked strong with long fingers. There was a pensive looked on his face, his bottom lip 
caught between his teeth. Jack couldn’t help but smile; it was adorable. He was young, that was 
for sure, and he didn’t have the air of one who knew he was good looking.  
 
He must have felt Jack’s intense perusal because he looked up right at him. Jack held his gaze 
and gave him a friendly smile. It was returned just before a blush peppered the man’s pale cheeks 
and he broke eye contact. Encouraged, Jack took his water and maneuvered his way to the young 
man.  
 
“Hi,” Jack greeted, settling himself beside the man, not close enough to touch, but just enough to 
be intimate. 
 
“Hello,” he returned, looking unsurprised at Jack’s arrival. 
 
“I’m Jack.” 
 
The man smirked and nodded to the stage. “I know.”  
 
“Oh, right.”  
 
Just then Tony brought over two glasses of beer. “The others are on their way Ianto.” 
 
“Thanks Tony.” the man said. 
 
“Ianto?” Jack repeated, testing the name out on his lips. “You’re Welsh. 
 
Ianto looked at him in slight surprise. “I am, yes.” 

 
“And you’re a regular here.” 
 
“I guess you could say that.” 
 
These short answers were driving Jack mad. Had he read the situation incorrectly? No, Jack 
knew interest when he saw it. But, it seemed that the cat was now becoming the mouse. He 
didn’t mind chasing a bit, as long as he got what he wanted in the end. Exactly what that was, he 
wasn’t sure, but at that moment he just wanted to hear more glorious Welsh vowels. 
 
“I’m new here,” Jack offered.  
 
Ianto grinned and gently bit the corner of his mouth. “I know,” he replied, his eyes indicating the 
club around them. 
 
“Oh, not just the club. I’m new to the city.” 
 
“And are you enjoying it thus far?” 
 
Jack’s eyes twinkled with delight. “More and more. But what’s a Welshman doing in Parí, may I 
ask?” 
 
“I live here. Why is an American in Parí?” Ianto countered. 
 
“I live here too.” 
 
Tony reappeared with two more glasses. “Sorry about the wait, Ianto.” 
 
“Don’t worry, Tony.” Ianto reached into his coat pocket to retrieve some money. 
 
“Let me.” Jack tossed a handful of bills onto the bar. 
 
“You don’t-” Ianto began to protest, but Tony scooped up the money and headed off, a 
mischievous smirk on his thin lips. Ianto picked up two of glasses. “You really didn’t have to do 
that.” 
 
Jack picked up the other two before Ianto could grab them. “No, but I wanted to.” 
 
“Maybe I’ll get yours next time.” 
 
“Or how about showing me around town sometime?” Jack ventured. 
 
Ianto’s eyes darted back over to his table before focusing on Jack once more. “I don’t think so. 
I’m not a good tour guide.” 
 

Jack had to stop himself from frowning. The man just offered to buy him a drink, didn’t he? Was 
he moving too fast? Maybe Ianto just needed more persuasion. “Oh, I doubt that. I’m sure you 
could show me a lot. You can show me the best restaurant in the area, the best art, café, and then 
of course, we’ll have to sample the fare at each one.” 
 
Ianto shook his head and made a grab for the other drinks, which Jack moved just out of reach. 
“You don’t give up, do you?” There was just enough amusement in his voice to reassure Jack. 
 
“Not this early. Shall we get these to your friends?” Jack gestured for Ianto to lead the way. 
 
With another roll of his eyes, Ianto headed back to his table, Jack right behind, taking the 
opportunity to check out the view of that side of the Welshman. My, my, my.   
 
“Ianto, mate, what took you so long?” one of the young men at the table exclaimed. “We’re 
about to die of thirst.” 
 
“Of course, you were,” Ianto replied, dryly. He and Jack set the glasses down and they were 
immediately snatched up. “Thank you, Jack.” 
 
At the sound of a new name, Ianto’s friends finally noticed who was standing beside him.  
 
With genuine excitement, at once they all started to congratulate Jack. “Oh, you’re the new 
bloke! Nice set tonight. You can sing, can’t you? Really livens things up!” 
 
“Thanks, I appreciate it, fellas. I’ve got to get going now, but Ianto, I’ll see you tomorrow. What 
was your work address again?” 
 
Ianto stared unbelievingly at Jack and blinked. Jack just waited patiently for his answer, looking 
for all the world like the two men had already set up this date. It was a good way to find out what 
sort of man Ianto was. Would he shoot Jack down in front of people? Give him a false address 
just to get rid of him? Maybe he would relent and let Jack take him out. But Ianto didn’t say 
anything, just kept looking at Jack, his mouth opening and closing, completely at a loss for 
words. And Jack’s heart leapt. Rejection came faster than acceptance. 
 
“Ianto, you had too many tonight?” one friend asked, laughing at the young man’s expression. 
“You’ve been at Ballanger and Homme for years now.” 
 
Jack sent a winning smile at Ianto’s friend. “Ah, yes, thank you. I remember now. You all have a 
good evening.” Placing a hand on Ianto’s arm, Jack said, “Good night, Ianto.” 
 
“Night, Jack,” Ianto managed to say as the heat from Jack’s touch seeped through his wool and 
silk coat. 
 
Jack turned quickly and made his way backstage once more. As soon as he was concealed from 
viewing eyes, he jumped up and down excitedly. Ianto. Ianto. Ianto. Handsome, sarcastic, 
blushing, Welsh Ianto! It wasn’t a stellar conversation, but Jack was not deterred. If anything, he 

was intrigued. All he had to do was find out what Ballanger and Homme was. It sounded like a 
stuffy law firm. But Ianto didn’t seem the type to be an office boy. There was something else 
about him, hidden in those eyes. Jack couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Perhaps he would try to 
convince Ianto to take his lunch break with him… then maybe dinner later that evening! 
 
With delicious thoughts about the following day running through his head, Jack searched for a 
city directory. 

 
 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE 

 

Jack was up early the following morning, feeling fully rested and ready to tackle the day ahead. 
Not even the rain that had been falling could diminish his spirits. He was going to find Ianto 
today. As he dressed and styled his hair to perfection, he recounted the previous evening’s events 
to his flatmate. When Owen groaned about wanting a lie-in and could Jack please contain his 
inane prattle, Jack merely laughed, ruffled his flatmate’s already unkempt hair, and told him to 
clean up and come downstairs for breakfast.  
 
Breakfast was across the street at the café with the wonderful pastries and heavenly smelling 
coffee. Jack ate there the previous day and immediately endeared himself to the proprietor and 
his wife. They were a charming, older couple, who spoke primarily in French, but switched to 
English when they could. It was one of those little places where regular patrons’ orders were 
memorised and prepared without question, where the staff inquired after customers’ families and 
business. Jack practically squealed with delight at the quaintness and old-fashioned values 
honoured there. 
 
Jack entered the already busy café and shook the raindrops from his hair. He nodded to M. and 
Mme. Perusse, who were behind the counter and peeking out of the kitchen doorway 
respectively, and took a seat by the window. Moments later, Monsieur Perusse placed a cup of 
espresso and a pain au chocolat in front of him. 
 
“Merci, Jacques,” Jack thanked him. 
 
“You’re welcome, Monsieur Harkness. It’s so nice to see once again.” 
 
“It’s nice to be here!” he said honestly. “I’m expecting a friend shortly. Any chance of a bowl of 
coffee and a hot buttered croissant?” 
 
“Of course.” Jacques quickly left and called back to his wife for Owen’s croissant. 
 
Jack was about halfway through his second espresso by the time Owen rushed into the café. He 
sank into the chair across from Jack, spraying water all over the tabletop. 
 
“Morning, dear,” Jack grinned. 
 
“Shut it, Harkness. “I’m not in the mood.” 

 
“You never are these days,” Jack said in a falsetto voice before laughing out loud. “I ordered for 
you already.” 
 
“Thanks,” he grumbled. “I hate the rain.” 
 
“You just have to wait, Monsieur,” Jacques said, carrying Owen’s order to him. “The skies will 
clear very soon and the day will look all the better!” 
 
“See, Owen? You just have to be patient. Jacques, may I ask, do you know where Ballanger and 
Homme is?” 
 
Jacques smiled. “Of course I do! I will go and write down the address for you.” With that, 
Jacques left Owen and Jack to their breakfast. 
 
They were just finishing the list for their set, when Jack noticed a dark haired woman obviously 
trying to catch his eye.  He felt her large doe eyes looking him up and down and when he turned 
slightly to see her more clearly, she smiled, showing a gap between her top two front teeth. A 
smattering of freckles was brushed across her nose and cheeks. And yes, large eyes peeking out 
under dark fringe. Cute, very cute, but not as cute as Ianto. He gave a slight grin before turning 
fully back to Owen, who didn’t seem to notice the young woman at all. That made Jack frown. 
Owen needed to get out, go out with some girl, or guy, or both. Maybe he should ask him about 
it? 
 
But then, the young woman from across the room was standing beside their table. Both Jack and 
Owen looked up at her curiously. 
 
“Hi,” she said, coyly. “I’m Gwen.” Her accent was Welsh, which amused Jack. Even in an 
alternate reality he couldn’t completely escape home. 
 
“Hi, Gwen. I’m Jack and this is Owen.” 
 
“Oh, I know. I saw the two of you at Bleu Allée. May I sit down?” Without waiting for a reply 
she pulled up an empty chair. “You were wonderful last night.” This praise was directed only at 
Jack, which he found a distinct turn off. 
 
“Thanks, we had a good first night I think. Don’t you think so, Owen?” 
 
Owen snorted and shook his head as if to say, “Unbelievable, Harkness.” Out loud he said, 
“Yeah and if we want to have a better second night, we better finish up. So Gwen,” he said her 
name as if to a child, “if you could just run along.” 
 
Gwen paled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt – ” 
 
“Well, you did, so – ” 
 

“Owen, don’t be rude,” Jack said. 
 
“Well, you have somewhere to be soon, don’t you?” 
 
“Look, I just wanted to say hello – ” Another snort from Owen, but Gwen ignored it. “Nice to 
meet you, Jack.” 
 
“Nice meeting you too, Gwen. Maybe we’ll see you at the club some night.” 
 
Gwen ducked her head and smiled at him. Then she stood up and headed out of the café. Once 
outside, she looked back through the window and waved. Jack politely waved back and Owen 
groaned. 
 
“What the hell was that about, Owen?” 
 
“I don’t need to endear myself to any of the little pretties that prance around you, Jack. That bird 
only wanted to say hello? Yeah, and drop her knickers for you too.” 
 
“Jealousy is not a good colour on you, Owen.” 
 
Owen slammed his fist down onto the table. “I’m not jealous, Harkness. I just can’t stand those 
types of simpering girls who pretend to be all innocent and cute when they’re really just after the 
same thing we are. Why can’t they just be honest instead of making fools of themselves? And 
besides, aren’t you going to go meet up with your new plaything for lunch?” 
 
Jack didn’t answer. He just stared at Owen calmly with his arms loosely crossed in front of his 
chest.  
 
“What?” Owen wanted to know. 
 
“Are you done? Because if you have more to say, you can, but I might need another pastry if it 
goes on too long.” 
 
“Fine, Jack, fine. Do what you want. Go find your lil boy from last night. Go fuck around with 
Gwen. I don’t care. I don’t!” he hissed. 
 
Owen tried to leave but Jack reached out and pulled him back down into his seat. “Owen, I know 
you’re frustrated and you want to go home, and we will get home. But we don’t know when that 
is going to happen. The best thing you can do is stop waiting, but keep watching.” 
 
“What does that mean?” 
 
“It means stop wasting your time, your life, waiting for rescue. You will only drive yourself 
mad.” Jack was speaking from years of experience and he hoped that Owen would understand 
that. No one knew about waiting as much as Jack. It was an awful feeling; one he wouldn’t wish 
on anybody. That was why he silently thanked Torchwood; without that to focus on, he would 

have gone insane years ago. “We have time here; there’s no way Susie and Tosh will have this 
figured out for another three days, their time.” 
 
“Another month?!” 
 
“You should try to enjoy it here. No aliens to capture, no police to Retcon. No death, just life. 
It’s not giving up, Owen, it’s finding a way to keep going on. Always be watching for the sign 
that it’s time to go home. But, if you keep waiting, like you have for a month, what is there going 
to be left to rescue?” 
 
With that, Jack stood and moved to squeeze Owen’s shoulder. “I’m going to go and see about a 
lunch date. I’ll see you at the flat later, okay?” 
 
Owen just nodded, his eyes fixed on the coffee cup before him. 
 
Jack squeezed his shoulder one more time before heading outside. The rain had eased off and the 
sky was brightening. Jack took the piece of paper Jacques gave him out of his pocket. The kind 
old man had even sketched a little map for him. It didn’t seem far away.  He turned and headed 
down the street, still thinking about Owen. For a second, Jack doubted if he was doing the right 
thing himself, trying to start something that could end before its time. Then again, most things in 
Jack’s life ended that way. Except, of course, for him.  
 
 
 
Ballanger et Homme. A tailor shop? Established in 1891. It was sandwiched between a 
parfumerie and a small art gallery. Jack took in the exterior of the building, lovingly cared for 
over the years. Jack noted that the paint color had been changed several times, but currently was 
a warm white with hints of yellow. The two bay windows showed a welcoming interior with suit 
displays, hanging fabrics, full-length mirrors and a handsome polished oak desk that stood in 
front of the much more handsome Ianto Jones. Jack grinned as he watched the young man 
scribble manically in the file he held in his hands; he was obviously working very hard on 
something. Ianto was once again dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit with a pink shirt, a 
black and pink striped tie and a bright green measuring tape around his neck. Jack let himself 
entertain a fantasy involving Ianto becoming intimately familiar with the older man’s 
measurements. 
 
Jack practically skipped into the shop, his face showing his eagerness. He was delighted when 
the young tailor looked up and almost dropped his pencil in surprise. 
 
“You!” Ianto exclaimed.  
 
Jack laughed at the tactless comment. “Good morning to you too, Ianto.” 
 
 “Sorry.” Ianto apologised, straightening his posture. “Good morning, Jack. What are you doing 
here?” 
 

Jack sauntered over to the ornate desk and leaned against it casually. “I told you I would see you 
today. Didn’t believe me?” 
 
Ianto placed his work down and crossed his arms. He appeared calm, but Jack noticed how Ianto 
pulled at the fabric of his jacket. The Captain put the information away into a mental folder now 
reserved for all things Ianto Jones.  
 
“I didn’t know what to believe actually,” the young man responded evenly. 
 
“Well, now you know that I was telling the truth. And how could I pass up the opportunity when 
your friend so kindly told me where you worked?” 
 
“I can see why that might be tempting, but you shouldn’t have come. I’m very busy right now 
and I don’t have time for your flirting.” 
 
“What about during lunch? Will you have time for it then? And you must participate yourself, of 
course!” 
 
Ianto smirked and raised an eyebrow and Jack felt himself melt a little bit more. “How do you 
know I’m not with someone?” 
 
“If you were, then our little conversation last night wouldn’t have happened. You don’t seem like 
the type of person to chat up men who aren’t his partner.” 
 
“You don’t know me.” Ianto walked around the desk and headed to an alcove on the other side 
of the shop. It seemed to Jack that it was a sitting area. He followed. 
 
“Am I wrong?” 
 
“No, you are not wrong. Please stay here. I am working right now.” 
 
“Mr. Jones?” a woman’s voice called. 
 
Jack and Ianto peered past the seating area, down a small hallway and saw a pleasant looking 
woman in her thirties walking over to them. She looked rather flustered. 
 
“Yes, Miss Lavalee? How are you getting on? I apologise for leaving you and your fiancé for so 
long. I was… detained.” 
 
Miss Lavalee just then noticed Jack standing behind Ianto. “Oh, just what we need! Excuse me, 
sir? May we have your opinion on something?” 
 
Jack shrugged. “How can I help?” 
 
“What seems to be the trouble, Miss Lavalee? Is there something amiss with the garments?” 
 

“We’re just not sure on a few things, Mr. Jones. This gentleman here is very much like Marco’s 
build. Perhaps he knows from experience.” Miss Lavalee looked Jack up and down, as if 
assessing him clinically. “Wait right here. I’ll get Marco.” She disappeared through a door a few 
feet away. 
 
Ianto turned away quickly and went to fetch his file and pencil on the desk. Jack heard him 
muttering, but was pretty sure it wasn’t in English.  
 
“Alright, Jack,” Ianto said quietly, “This is Miss Jennifer Lavalee and her husband-to-be, Marco 
Dutihl. They are purchasing the suits for their wedding party from us. The wedding is in just a 
few weeks. We’ve made Monsieur Dutihl’s and we’ve custom made his shirt. Do I need to tell 
you how long a process that is?” 
 
“I think I get it. You want me to side in favor of the suit no matter what?” 
 
Ianto sighed. “I don’t know what the trouble is, but I saw Monsieur Homme sew these pieces. 
They’re exquisite.” 
 
Jack went over to one of the high back chairs and plopped down. “I guess we’ll just have to wait 
and see.” Jack patted the chair beside him. Ianto rolled his eyes, but took the offered chair. 
 
As he settled himself, the door opened and Miss Lavalee came out followed by a tall man in a 
light gray suit. He was indeed the same build as Jack, though the man looked about ten years his 
senior. Only Jack knew that observation was inaccurate. 
 
“See, we’re just not sure about the whole look,” Miss Lavalee said, looking at her fiancée with 
concern. “I’m not used to seeing Marco in a suit. It’s all tatty jeans and polos with him. Would 
you mind, sir, trying on just the suit coat for me? I think I can figure out what’s bothering me if I 
see it on someone else.” 
 
“If you think it’ll help. I can tell right now that this has a great fit,” Jack said, standing and 
removing his great coat. Ianto stood as well and helped the two taller men remove and put on the 
suit coat. 
 
“Monsieur Homme does great work,” Monsieur Dutihl said in accented French. “I do not know 
what Jenny’s issue is. I think it is beautiful.” 
 
Jack sighed as the summer weight wool rested comfortably on his form. He stepped in front of a 
nearby three-way mirror and turned from side to side. “It’s a great fabric. It hangs nicely from 
the shoulders and it doesn’t stretch and buckle across the back. I always have trouble getting 
clothes off the rack because of that.” 
 
“Monsieur Homme took that into consideration during the initial fitting,” Ianto informed Jack.  
 
“And it shows! And the sleeve length. I’m assuming you’ll be wearing cufflinks?” 
 

Monsieur looked down at his white-buttoned sleeves. “I would like the cufflinks, but Jenny, she 
is not so sure.” 
 
“Aren’t they old fashioned?” Miss Lavalee wondered, not noticing that Ianto was wearing 
cufflinks. Normally Jack did too, but he was still wearing the clothes he came with. He made a 
mental note to fix that problem immediately; he didn’t want to keep washing his shirt every 
single night!  
 
“Quite the contrary. Take Ianto here,” he pointed to the young man. 
 
“Sir?” he questioned. 
 
Jack tried to repress the shiver that went down his spine at that title slipping from those pink lips. 
“Mr. Jones is a young man, well dressed, well mannered, educated, and still modern and fun. 
And I’m willing to bet that most of the shirts in his wardrobe sport the French cuff.” Jack 
fingered the cufflink on Ianto’s shirt, a mother-of-pearl piece set in gold. 
 
Miss Lavalee’s followed the movement. “Oh, Mr. Jones, I didn’t mean to insult you.” 
 
“Not at all, Miss Lavalee. As you can see, the cuffs can be quite subtle. Some gentlemen prefer a 
shorter suit coat to show off their jewelry, but it is not always the case.” 
 
“You see, mon cher? It is a classic look.” 
 
“Can you put the jacket back on?” Ianto helped Jack out of the suit coat and held it out for 
Monsieur Dutihl.  
 
Once it was on and the top button secured, the older man turned to his fiancée. “Well?” 
 
“Something is not right! Oh, what is it?” 
 
“May I make a suggestion?” Miss Lavalee looked at Jack and nodded eagerly. “Do you have a 
color theme for your wedding?” 
 
“Oh, yes! We’re doing two shades of blue, one light, one deep, and just a hint of silver gray. My 
dress is white of course and the flowers are all in pinks and corals!”  
 
“Well, perhaps you should think about bringing in more color for your husband. He looks good 
in the light gray, but maybe you should try a different color shirt or tie? Ow!” Jack felt Ianto stab 
him with his pencil. “This shirt is stunning though. You should keep it. Maybe for one of the 
romantic honeymoon nights.” Miss Lavalee giggled. “I’m sure it will look good tossed onto the 
floor as well,” he whispered to her. 
 
She giggled more loudly and looked at her future husband. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, 
we never got your name.” 
 

“Jack Harkness, at your service.” 
 
“Thank you, Mr. Harkness. Honey, how do you feel about a different colored shirt?” 
 
“Whatever will make you happy,” he smiled genuinely.  
 
“Why don’t you change back into your clothing, Monsieur Dutihl,” Ianto began, taking control 
of the situation, “ and I will lay out a few choices for you?” 
 
“Thank you so much, Monsieur Jones. We appreciate all of your help.” 
 
“Of course, Monsieur.” 
 
Ianto led Jack out of the fitting area and back to the desk. The younger man put his elbows down 
hard onto the wooden surface and put his head in his hands. He scrubbed his face then 
straightened up and regarded Jack. 
 
“Not bad, right? Your suit is safe and it looks like you’re going to sell them another shirt,” said 
Jack, a little concerned. For a moment it looked like Ianto’s cool business exterior was about to 
shatter all over the hard wood floor. 
 
“No, not bad at all. Thank you for your help, Jack. Miss Lavalee can be…” 
 
“Yes, I’m sure she can.” They both shared a chuckle, the mirth shining in their eyes.  
 
“They make a cute couple,” Jack said as Ianto turned to the shelves of albums behind him. 
 
“They do. And now, I need to find a complimentary shade of blue or coral for his new shirt. 
Coral is not a commonly requested color these days, but I think there’s some in here.” Ianto 
pulled a large volume down from the shelf and placed it onto the desk. He reached for another 
one and heard the swish of Jack’s coat. He was surprised that Jack was close enough to take the 
next volume of fabrics from Ianto’s hand. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, but it was 
enough to make both men inhale sharply at the warm sensation. “Thanks,” he murmured, looking 
for another selection.   
 
“They seem genuinely in love with each other as well,” Jack mentioned, his eyes taking in 
Ianto’s profile. He was so handsome, trying to stay on task, but the slight tremble in his 
searching fingers did not go unnoticed. 
 
“They are the real article,” Ianto agreed. He fingered a light coral swatch thoughtfully, before 
flipping the page. He felt Jack’s gaze on him, just as he had the night before, but he refused to 
look up from his work. “It’s nice to see, actually.” 
 
Jack hummed his agreement as he sidled closer to the Welshman. “He loves and she loves, and 
they love, so why can't you love and I love too?” he sang softly with amusement. 
 

Ianto shut his eyes and breathed deeply, Jack’s scent filling his nose. “That’s not fair.” 
 
“What’s not?” 
 
“I like the way you sing.” Ianto tried to get back to his work, but Jack’s voice distracted him. His 
shoulders slumped and he faced the strange man who was suddenly invading his life. Ianto 
smiled. 
 
“Birds love and bees love, and whispering trees love. And that’s what we both should do.” Jack 
extracted the book that Ianto clutched in his hands, purposely caressing those long fingers. 
“Would you care to dance, Mr. Jones?” 
 
“Dance?!” Ianto evaded Jack’s grasp and moved to the other side of the desk. “Jack, I’m still 
working here.” 
 
“Dance break!” Jack leaned right over the desk, waggling his eyebrows in invitation, but the 
tailor leaned away slightly. “Fine, no dancing, not yet.” 
 
“Thank you. Now, may I get back to the fabrics?”  
 
Ianto tried to return to his shelf, but Jack grabbed his hand and tugged the younger man to him. 
Ianto braced his free hand against Jack’s shoulder. They were so close, practically in each other’s 
arms, Jack’s natural scent and Ianto’s clean aftershave mingling enticingly between them.  
Neither said anything for a few moments, both of them just silently realising how well they fit 
together. To emphasise the point, Jack’s arms loosely wrapped around Ianto’s waist and fingers 
rubbed the luxe fabric of his suit. When Ianto did not tense at his touch, Jack started to move 
from side to side, taking Ianto with him. 
 
“Jack, you just said no dancing.”  
 
“Who’s dancing? I’m just swaying.” 
 
Ianto laughed and pulled away. Jack held on, keeping them at arms length “Jack – ” Ianto began 
to protest, feebly. 
 
“Oh I always knew someday you'd come along. We'll make a twosome that just can't go wrong.” 
Jack entwined their fingers and let his thumb caress Ianto’s soft skin. 
 
“You cheat.” 
 
Jack just grinned happily. “Oh, hear me – ” 
 
“Mr. Jones?” 
 
 The two men sprang away from each other just in time to see the couple emerge with the 
garments neatly folded. Ianto swiftly crossed the room to take the clothes from them. 

 
“I have several color options for you in our catalogue and some lovely blue options over here,” 
Ianto pointed to a wall that was full of dress shirts of all different fabrics, style and colors. 
 
“Thank you so much, Mr. Jones and Mr. Harkness,” Miss Lavalee cooed. “I feel so much better 
already.” The future M. and Mdm. Dutihl and Ianto walked over to the shirts.  
 
“You’re very welcome, Miss Lavalee. I’m sure it’s going to be a beautiful wedding. Mr. Jones, 
may I pull you away for a moment, to set up that appointment?” 
 
“Oh, we’re sorry, Monsieur Harkness,” Monsieur Dutihl apologised. “We are detaining you.” 
 
“If you’ll just excuse me, I’ll take care of Mr. Harkness’ appointment and be right with you.” 
Ianto walked around the desk and opened a ledger with appointment listings inside.  
 
“What time can you take lunch?” Jack whispered, trying to read the appointment times upside 
down. It looked like it was going to be a full day for Ianto. 
 
“We’ll close at one o’clock for an hour or two.” 
 
“So, I’ll come back around one?” 
 
“You’d come back even if I said no.” 
 
“Now you’re getting it. Who needs luck when you have persistence, I say.” 
 
“Well, you certainly have a great deal of that.” 
 
“And charm. Don’t forget charm!” 
 
Ianto shook his head in amusement. “I’m sure you’ll keep reminding me. Now, I’d better get 
back to the happy couple before she decides to make him wear a coral suit.” 
 
Jack gasped in mock horror. “He wouldn’t let her do such a thing, would he?” 
 
“I don’t think he cares what he wears, just so long as she’s happy.” 
 
Jack looked back at the man and woman, who were discussing different shades of blue and 
holding them to the light. “It is rather sweet.” 
 
“Don’t get a toothache, Captain.” 
 
“What did you call me?” Jack asked, not able to keep the surprise out of his voice. 
 
“Sorry, it’s your coat. It makes you look like a Captain.” 
 

Jack hadn’t even considered how Ianto might interpret his attire; he didn’t usually care what 
others thought about his style. He made a mental note to get a new coat, something more fitting 
for his new residence, along with new shirts. He wasn’t a Captain right now; he was a nightclub 
singer with a date on the horizon. 
  
“Yeah, I guess it does. It should; it was my grandfather’s.” 
 
“I like it.” 
 
“So, one o’clock?” 
 
“One o’clock.” 
 
Jack nodded before pushing away from the desk and leaving the shop with a flourish of flowing 
coat tails. 
 
Ianto removed a pocket watch from his waistcoat and noted the time. Ten o’clock. In three hours, 
he was going to go on a date with that man! That man who serenaded him and danced with him 
at work after only meeting him twelve hours ago.  
 
“He is quite a presence,” Monsieur Dutihl commented, pulling Ianto from his thoughts. 
 
Ianto put away his watch and picked up the coral fabric catalogues. “He is.” 
 
“Perhaps soon, you will be picking colours for your own wedding.” Ianto looked up at him in 
complete shock. “I do not mean to offend. We couldn’t help but notice how he looks at you.” 
 
“And how is that?” 
 
Monsieur Dutihl thought for a moment then glanced back at his fiancée, who was holding a blue 
shirt up to herself. He smiled at her before answering Ianto’s question. “Fondly.” 
 
“That is a nice sentiment, Monsieur Dutihl, but Mr. Harkness and I just met.” 
 
“Time is irrelevant. Jenny and I have been together for years and are just now getting married. 
But, I knew that I would marry her the moment I saw her.” 
 
“How did you meet?” Ianto wanted to know. 
 
Monsieur Dutihl laughed. “Our parents, actually. They worked together and thought their 
children would get along. So, they threw a party and made sure we met.” 
 
“Are you telling that embarrassing story, Marco?” Miss Lavalee asked, having put the shirt back 
on the rack. “Honestly, who gets set up on a date by their parents nowadays?” 
 
“We shouldn’t complain, mon cher. They were right, after all.” 

 
“Well, that is true. Still, it’s not the most romantic story.” 
 
“I think it’s charming,” Ianto assured his clients. 
 
“How did you and Mr. Harkness meet?” Monsieur Dutihl asked. 
 
Miss Lavalee gave a small squeal of delight. “Oh, so we were right then?” 
 
Ianto turned several shades of red. He really didn’t think he and Jack were doing anything 
worthy of gossip. “We met yesterday. He was singing at a nightclub.” 
 
“Was that him we heard earlier? I thought maybe a radio was on. Oh, he has a delightful voice. 
Was he singing to you? Oh, that’s so romantic. Marco can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” 
 
“I have other talents, mon cher.” 
 
“Well, shall we take a look those shirts?” Ianto interrupted, opening his swatch book. 
 
“Of course, Mr. Jones.” After only a few seconds of perusal, Miss Lavalee asked, “What club 
does Mr. Harkness sing at?” 
 
 
Two hours later, Ianto found himself utterly exhausted. The excitement over his date quickly 
vanished after Jack’s departure. Miss Lavalee and her fiancé finally stopped questioning him 
about Jack and chose a beautiful blue shirt, but they made certain to tell Ianto that they planned 
on stopping by the Bleu Allée soon in hopes of hearing Jack sing. Monsieur Homme returned 
from his errands after the couple had left, and the shop remained busy for the rest of the morning.  
 
At half past twelve, a lull set in over the shop and Ianto allowed his excitement to build again. 
Only a half an hour to go before lunch with Jack. Where would they go, he wondered. 
 
“Ianto!” called Monsieur Homme, his voice ringing through the empty shop. 
 
Ianto walked into Monsieur Homme’s workspace at the back of the shop. “Monsieur?”  
 
“I need you to drop off a package to Madame Ouellette. After that, you may take your lunch. I 
will not be closing the shop this afternoon, but I will let you leave early this evening.” Monsieur 
continued to chalk a pattern on the cloth before him, not noticing Ianto’s frown. 
 
“We’re not closing, Monsieur?” 
 
“No. Monsieur Lagrange would like to come in during that time. We shall give him our 
undivided attention.” 
 

Ianto suppressed a sigh. Another wedding party. He would need to get a few things to serve the 
ladies who, no doubt, would be attending the appointment as well. But what about Jack? 
 
“The package is just there. She has already paid for the work. Off you go, Ianto.” 
 
“Oui, Monsieur,” Ianto mumbled.  
 
Damn, what was he going to say to Jack when he saw him next? Ianto sighed and headed out into 
the afternoon sunshine. 
 
 
A few minutes before one o’clock, and eager Jack strolled into Ballanger et Homme and 
immediately noticed a certain Welshman’s absence. There was, however, an elderly man, 
dressed in a suit with a green measuring tape around his neck. 
 
“Bon après-midi, Monsieur. How may we be service to you?” the old tailor asked Jack. 
 
“Bonjour, Monsieur. I am actually here to see Mr. Jones.” 
 
“Mr. Jones is not here right now, but I will be glad to assist you.” 
 
“May I ask where Mr. Jones is? I spoke to him just this morning.” 
 
“I sent Mr. Jones on an early lunch. We have a busy afternoon ahead of us and will not be 
closing as we usually do. I do, however, have some time before my next client. Were you in 
search of any particular items?” 
 
Jack thought about it for a moment. If he could stall for time perhaps Ianto would return and they 
could reschedule. Besides, he was in need of a few items.  
 
“I recently got a new job and I’m in need of some suitable clothes.”  
 

 

 
Ianto returned an hour after he left. He dropped off Madame Ouellette’s package, chatted for a 
while, as she was known to insist on exchanging niceties whenever Ianto stopped by, and then 
had a quick lunch. He hoped that maybe he would run into Jack in the neighborhood, but it did 
not happen. He popped over to a small shop and purchased several pastries and refilled his coffee 
and tea supplies for Monsieur Homme. 
 
“Ianto, there you are! Could you please get some refreshments for the family?” 
 
Ianto nodded politely to the waiting party and went into the small kitchen area to prepare his 
serving tray. 
 

As he served the Lagrange ladies and took notes for Monsieur Homme, Ianto kept wondering 
what he said to Jack when the American came by. He wanted to ask, desperately, but never had a 
moment.  
 
It wasn’t until almost closing time that Ianto found his chance. 
 
“Monsieur Homme, did a Mr. Harkness come in while I was gone?” 
 
Monsieur Homme nodded his head as he locked the front door. “Oui. He needed several items 
for his new job. A nightclub singer! Surely, a gentleman of that fine a quality could find a better 
use for his time. He did ask after you and left you a note of thanks. I put it in his file.” 
 
Ianto quickly located the file and retrieved a folded piece of crisp, thick paper that he recognised 
as the shop’s stationary. He pocketed the letter and followed Monsieur Homme as they went 
through their closing procedures. 
 
Once outside, Ianto bid Monsieur Homme a good evening and headed towards his flat. As he 
walked, he pulled out Jack’s note and opened it. Ianto was pleasantly surprised that it was written 
in Welsh. How Jack knew that language Ianto could not fathom; not many outside of Wales 
spoke it anymore. 
 
Ianto’s heart beat rapidly against his ribcage as he read Jack’s request to see him that night after 
his set at the Bleu Allée. 10:30 at Les Deux Magots. He loved it there and it wasn’t too far from 
the river. Ianto imagined the two of them enjoying some wine, getting to know each other, 
maybe share a dessert, something decadent. Then maybe they could go for a walk later on. Jack 
was new to Parí after all. It would nice to show him the Seine on a warm clear night. 
 
Ianto chuckled at his romantic daydream. He barely knew this man, didn’t even know that he 
wanted to see him again until he stepped into the shop that morning. Now he was all Ianto could 
think about. His smile, his easy manner, his voice. 
 
With a sudden burst of inspiration, Ianto changed directions and quickened his pace. He needed 
to change for that evening, but he might be able to squeeze in an hour or two at his studio before 
going home. 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

             

CHAPTER SIX 

 
When Jack finished his final song of the night, he immediately went to pick up a fresh glass of 
water from Tony. Then half the club seemed to have similar thoughts, while the remaining 
patrons sat and listened to Owen bang out “Turn Back, O Man.” Jack and some others sang 
along at appropriate moments. That was the reason Jack suggested that Owen play it by himself; 
he figured many people at the club would know the words and know to sing along with him. Jack 
loved seeing the participation! It encouraged Owen’s improvisation as well. The singer said a 

silent thank you to Owen’s mother for forcing “a little culture” on him as a child. It was good to 
see Owen smile, to be creative. Not that Torchwood didn’t call for some creativity every now 
and then, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe he should ask Owen about working on some original 
pieces. 
 
Jack put the idea temporarily out of his head as he finished his water. It was time to get ready for 
Ianto. He would freshen up in the back, change into the grey trousers and pale green button down 
he bought that afternoon and be there just in time.   
 
“Jack!” 
 
Jack turned his back to the bar to see who had called out his name. Pushing through the crowd 
was the woman from earlier that day, Gwen, if he remembered correctly. Her determined, petite 
frame knocked through the throng that was waiting to order drinks.  
 
“Hi, Gwen,” Jack greeted when the brunette finally made it to his side. “Busy night tonight.” 
 
“Yes, it is. Word must travel fast.” 
 
“What do you mean?” 
 
“About you. I’m sure most of these people are here for you as much as for the next band.” 
 
“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but Owen and I have only been doing this together since last 
night. I don’t think word could get around that quickly.” 
 
“Well, I came back,” she said with a shrug. 
 
“And on behalf of the Bleu Allée, we thank you for your patronage.” Jack gave a mock bow and 
Gwen laughed a bit too loudly. “I want to apologise for Owen’s behavior earlier today. If ever 
there was a man who wasn’t a morning person, it’s Owen Harper. He didn’t mean any harm.” 
 
“No harm done. Though I will say, he doesn’t seem like a welcoming sort at any hour.” Gwen 
giggled at her slight as she glanced over at Owen. He was just completing the final chords of his 
set. “He plays well though. I imagine that’s how you two became friends.” 
 
“We met through mutual friends actually. He’s been through a lot over the last few years. I think 
this move is just what he needs. He’s really a great guy when you get to know him.” 
 
“Oh, I’m sure he is. I didn’t mean be insulting. If he’s friends with you, then there must be 
something good about him.” 
 
Jack felt the distinct need to leave the conversation as quickly as possible. Perhaps Gwen was a 
lovely girl but he did not like the conclusions she drew about Owen and their relationship; it was 
awfully presumptuous.  
 

She was obviously interested in him as well, if the batting of her long lashes was any indication; 
Jack was pretty certain that all species across the universe that have eyelashes use them for the 
same purpose. He didn’t want to be mean, but he didn’t have time to listen to the backhanded 
compliments she was dealing. 
 
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I have to get going.” 
 
Instead of moving out of his way, Gwen stepped in closer to Jack. “Do you have to go so soon? 
We just started talking. I was hoping we could sit for a while and talk… about your music and 
such.” 
 
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he switched their places. “Maybe some other time, but I 
really must be going.” 
 
“What about tomorrow? At the café? We can have breakfast.” 
 
Of all the ways he was hoping to spend tomorrow morning, having breakfast with Gwen was not 
one of them. Having breakfast with Ianto, whether at the café or at Ianto’s flat however… “I’m 
sorry I can’t tomorrow.” 
 
Her face fell and her large eyes widened. Jack felt himself wince, like he just kicked a sweet, 
innocent puppy. “Oh well. Soon then?” 
 
Giving in to his guilt, Jack touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers before quickly with 
drawing them back. “Soon.” With that he charged through the patrons to the back room. 
 
“You are barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.” 
 
Gwen jumped in surprise. She hadn’t even noticed Owen come to stand beside her. “Oh! I didn’t 
see you there.” 
 
The pianist snorted then signaled for Tony. “I know you didn’t. You were too busy wasting your 
time. A pint please, Tony? And whatever the lady would like. She’ll need it.” 
 
Keeping her head held high, Gwen ordered a glass of pinot noir. When Tony left, she faced 
Owen. “What do you mean ‘wasting my time’?” 
 
“You know what I’m talking about. I said it to you earlier, but apparently you don’t like to listen. 
Stay away from Jack.” 
 
Gwen flipped her long hair behind her shoulders, annoyed. “Why should I? He seemed perfectly 
willing to talk with me just now.” 
 
“That’s because Jack is nice. I’m not nice, but I’m going to make an exception in this case and 
tell you once again; it’s not going to happen. You might as well toddle along and find a different 
bone to play with.” 

 
“Are you jealous or something? Do you want Jack for yourself? Is that it? If that’s the case, 
you’re the one barking up the wrong tree. Jack already told me how much he values your 
friendship.” 
 
Owen growled and grabbed Gwen’s arm. He tugged her roughly so he could speak into her ear. 
“Listen here, little girl. I don’t want or need Jack Harkness for anything more than how I already 
have him. And that’s not in my bed. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.” He pushed her 
away just in time for their drinks to be set down in front of them. Owen took a long gulp of his 
beer before slamming it down. “Jack is a friendly guy and he likes people. God knows I have no 
idea why. So, if he wants to talk to you and be your friend, bully for you, but just know that’s all 
it will be. He has a better friend for everything else.” 
 
“He has a girlfriend?” 
 
The surprise and sadness in Gwen’s voice made Owen choke on his laugh. She was so naïve 
thinking a man like Jack Harkness didn’t have someone. He could have anyone. Owen admitted 
that Gwen was cute. The freckles, the gap between her teeth, the haughty way she brushed her 
fringe out of her large eyes. But, she wasn’t for Jack and the last thing Owen wanted was some 
lovesick girl tagging along with them, showing up to all of their sets, and invading their café. He 
wouldn’t be able to take it. 
 
“Do you think someone like Jack is lonely? He can have anyone.” 
 
“So? Maybe he wants – ” 
 
“Maybe he wants you? In your dreams.” 
 
“You are jealous. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be going out of your way to hurt my feelings. You 
wish you had all the attention he’s getting. You’ve been here longer than him, yes? Jack’s been 
here two days and look how much the crowd loves him. You’re nothing more than backup.” 
 
“You can say whatever you want, sweetheart. Your opinion means absolutely nothing to me. I 
just thought you should know that Jack doesn’t need or want what you’re offering.” 
 
As if on cue, Jack headed back through the crowd. Gwen noticed the change of clothes and the 
fervent expression on his face. He waved distractedly as he ran by. 
 
“Night, Owen.” 
 
“Good luck, mate,” Owen called back, taking a bit of enjoyment at Gwen’s sudden paleness. 
Jack threw his head back and laughed before disappearing out the door. Owen looked down at 
Gwen snidely. “Night, sweetheart.” 
 
“Gwen.” 
 

Owen paused. “Excuse me?” 
 
“My name is Gwen, not ‘sweetheart.’” Her voice was cold as ice, but her eyes were full of 
melancholy and need.  
 
“Thanks for the reminder, Gwen.” 
 
“Goodnight, Owen.” 
 
 
 
He was late. Oh, God, he was late. 
 
Ianto was stood under a tree outside Les Deux Magots, watching groups of people walk by and 
sit at the tables, drinking, laughing and kissing. It was 10:40pm and there was no sign of Jack. 
Ianto felt foolish. What had happened to his date? Surely he’d remembered what time he had 
asked Ianto to be there. Unless the American had decided he didn’t want to go out with Ianto 
after all. Maybe he’d found someone better to spend his time with that evening. No, no. Jack 
wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to meet him only to stand him up a few hours later. 
So, where was he? Perhaps, something had held him up at the club. Yes, that must be it. 
 
Having temporarily eased his worry about his absent date, Ianto looked down at his choice of 
outfit for the evening. He had spent more time than he’d intended at his studio, but he couldn’t 
help it. When inspiration struck he had no choice but to go with it. So, because of his artistic 
haze, he’d had less time to prepare for the evening. He’d showered and styled his hair, keeping 
the wavy look. He’d debated on how casual to dress. Jack had only seen him in suits, but the café 
wasn’t that fancy. He had settled for casual trousers and a teal, lightweight, cotton jumper that 
was slightly fitted. Ianto never thought he had the most impressive, muscular frame, but it wasn’t 
bad; it wouldn’t hurt to hint at it.  
 
After another five minutes he began to fret again. Fifteen minutes late now. Ianto arrived slightly 
early, so he had been waiting for a total of twenty minutes. He was sure people were whispering 
about the young man checking his watch, who was getting stood up, but kept waiting like a dog. 
Club or no club, if Jack was much later Ianto was going to kill him after his own recovery from 
death by embarrassment.  
 
Breaking through the stream of Welsh curses he was muttering, was the loud and rapid sound of 
shoes hitting pavement. A shiver went up his spine and Ianto took several calming breaths. It had 
to be Jack. He counted to three before looking down the street towards the persistent sound.  
There he was, only a few feet away. Jack slowed his pace when their eyes met. For a second, 
Ianto forgot his distress. Jack looked so handsome. Gone was the greatcoat and suspenders and 
in their place were grey trousers and an untucked pale green shirt. It was the look of trepidation 
his those striking blue eyes that reminded Ianto of the current situation.  
 
“You’re late,” was all he said when Jack reached him. 
 

Jack looked suitably ashamed and clasped his hands together in a begging gesture. “I know and I 
am so sorry. Please forgive me.” 
 
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Should I?” 
 
Jack’s expression morphed into that of a Cheshire cat. “Oh, yes, you should.” 
 
“Well then. I’ll let you spend some time proving that to me.” 
 
“I like the sound of that! Shall we sit down?” 
 
The pair managed to get an outdoor table and immediately ordered a bottle of wine. Looking 
over the wonderful menu, Jack gave in to his need for chocolate and ordered gateau au chocolat 
while Ianto opted for the coupe des Deux Magots, both agreeing they should try each others’. 
 
Conversation flowed as easily as the wine. Jack found out that Ianto wasn’t actually a tailor at 
all, but an artist, a painter! He worked at the shop a few days a week to pay for his supplies and 
an art studio by the river. Jack was so excited to hear more about Ianto’s work that he bombarded 
him question after question. Ianto wasn’t used to talking so much, not on a first date, but he 
found it so natural to tell his story to Jack, especially as he seemed to genuinely want to know 
about him. 
 
“My father considered me a prodigy from a very young age and spent lots of money on art 
classes for me. He had me submit into every contest, scholarship opportunity or open gallery that 
he could find. It was quite exhausting really. Finally, when I was about seventeen, I was noticed 
and had one of my canvases displayed at a prominent gallery in Cardiff. I got more and more 
attention, but I didn’t know what to do with it all. I ran off with some mates one night and, well, 
let’s just say I made up for missed years of rebellion. My father was livid and told me I had to be 
serious if I wanted to be a respected artist. What he actually meant was a wealthy artist. In a final 
act of teenage defiance, I left home, moved to London and stopped painting for anyone but 
myself.” 
 
“So, how did you end up in Parí?” Jack wondered, reaching across the table to taste Ianto’s 
blackcurrant sorbet. 
 
“Needed a change. I was nearing my mid-twenties and still just wandering through life. On a 
whim, I submitted a piece to a grant committee and received money to study and paint here. 
When that dried up, I stayed on. Got the job at the tailor shop and I’ve even sold some work as 
well. This is home now.” 
 
“You’ve had quite an interesting life so far, Mr. Jones.” 
 
Ianto shrugged. “It’s been rather normal until recently.” Jack gave him a questioning look. “It’s 
not every day that I have American nightclub singers walking into my life.” 
 
“I should hope not. I would hate to think someone is copying me!” 

 
Ianto chuckled. He pushed the rest of his dessert, which Jack was intent on sampling again, to 
him. “I get the impression that you are a complete original, Jack Harkness.” 
 
“One and only. Do you want more of this?” he asked pointing to the ice cream with his spoon. 
 
“You can finish it if you like. Between that chocolate, the wine and this, I can’t handle 
anymore.” 
 
“I think my jog over here worked up my appetite.” Jack heaped the remnants of Ianto’s dessert 
onto his spoon and shoveled it into his mouth, dribbling a bit on his chin. 
 
Ianto automatically reached out to swipe the melting ice cream off Jack’s face. He didn’t even 
think about the gesture until after he’d licked his finger clean. He noticed Jack’s eyes transfixed 
on him. Ianto blushed and wiped his hands on his napkin. 
 
He folded the piece of cloth, nervously. “I was thinking, if you’d like, we might walk down to 
the Seine. I wasn’t sure if you’ve had the chance to go down there. It’s really quite lovely, and 
it’s not a chilly night or anything. Of course if you’d rather do something else, that’s completely 
fine.” 
 
Jack settled his hand over Ianto’s fidgeting ones, stopping his ramble. “Ianto?” He waited for the 
younger man to look up. “You okay?” 
 
Ianto nodded his head vigorously. He wasn’t okay. Well, he was too okay, if such a thing could 
be said. He was surprised how comfortable he was with Jack, how this didn’t seem like a first 
date at all. It was so natural for them to laugh together and touch. That never happened with 
Ianto before, ever! He was usually nervous on dates, wondering what to do with his hands or 
wondering what to say to make his date laugh. It always seemed forced. But being with Jack was 
easy and that unnerved him. 
 
“Why don’t we pay the bill and go for that walk? I haven’t had time to go to the Seine, so that 
sounds perfect to me.” 
 
Less than twenty minutes later, Ianto and Jack were strolling along the river, their shoulders 
brushing against each other and their fingers loosely linked together. They didn’t say much, just 
enjoyed the comfortable silence as they took in the serenity of the night. The moon shone 
brightly in the sky and the gentle lapping of the water interspersed with other couples and groups 
passing by, created the perfect atmosphere to relax and just be. 
 
Jack was so contented. Ianto’s brief nerves had abated as soon as they’d left the café and Jack 
took his hand, a hand he still held and no intention of letting go until he absolutely had to. He 
really couldn’t believe his luck. No, not luck, Fate. He never would have used the word before, 
but there was no other way to describe the path his life had taken over the last three days. Had it 
only been three days? For Tosh and Susie it was much less than that. Jack shook thoughts of his 
team away, not wanting to spoil his current happiness.  

 
Back home Jack was satisfied. His team was slowly starting to come together and he was 
missing Alex and the others less and less each day. Torchwood 3 was doing good work and Jack 
was happy with that. He didn’t focus on the missing pieces of his life; it didn’t do him any good 
to dwell. But this, being in Parí, was a chance to have the things he lacked, if only for a little 
while. He was excited to go to work and entertain people and be relatively certain that he wasn’t 
going to suffer a horrible death and painful resurrection. He loved being part of a friendly 
community instead of hiding from it. And he was surprised and delighted that the man at his side 
brought out the romantic in him. Jack thought of the lengths he went to just to see Ianto. 
Monsieur Homme was a very nice man, but Jack had really wanted Ianto to be on the other end 
of the tape measure. He chuckled at the memory 
 
 “What’s so funny?” Ianto asked, tugging on Jack’s hand.  
 
“I was just thinking about the tailor shop. Monsieur Homme really knows what he’s talking 
about.” 
 
“He said you placed a sizeable order.” 
 
“I was in need of some things. What did that couple end up doing about the shirt?” 
 
“Thankfully, Miss Lavalee went with a sensible blue one. They – they were asking about you, 
after you left.” 
 
“Really? And what did they want to know?” Jack stopped and led Ianto over to the low stone 
wall that separated them from the water. He leaned against it and pulled Ianto to him, letting his 
arms wrap around the younger man’s waist. 
 
Ianto’s hands settled on Jack’s upper arms and rubbed the soft cotton of Jack’s shirt. He idly 
wondered where he had purchased it; it was good quality, but it wasn’t from his shop. As his 
fingers continued their caress, Ianto couldn’t help but notice and be excited by Jack’s muscular 
build. It was one thing to see the outline of the muscles through Jack’s clothing and quite another 
to feel them underneath his hands, feel the subtle way Jack leaned into his touch.  
 
Not wanting to give in too much to his imagination, Ianto chose to answer Jack’s question. 
“They wanted to know how we met actually.” 
 
“Oh? So, they didn’t believe I was just another customer?” 
 
“Not for a minute. They commented on the way you were looking at me.” 
 
“Well, I can’t help but look at you. Have you seen yourself? And I’m enjoying this color on you 
as well.” 
 
“They heard you singing to me too.” Jack smiled broadly and drew Ianto closer. “Miss Lavalee 
was a bit jealous. Her fiancé can’t sing at all.” 

 
“I’m sure he has other talents.” 
 
“That’s what he said.” They both enjoyed laughs at that, feeling the vibrations hum through their 
bodies. Ianto sighed when Jack’s hands rubbed lazy circles along his back. He couldn’t form the 
words to describe how he felt in Jack’s arms, so he decided not to try. Instead, he just gazed into 
the cerulean depths of Jack’s eyes and hoped that the other man knew what he couldn’t say. 
 
Jack knew. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ianto’s, softly. There was no hesitation as 
Ianto responded in kind, before increasing the pressure of the kiss. His hands trailed up to gently 
cup the back of Jack’s head, his fingers nestled in the short, thick hair. Jack moaned at Ianto’s 
enthusiasm and let the tip of his tongue graze Ianto’s full bottom lip. Ianto opened his mouth 
slightly, letting his teeth nip and his tongue enjoy his first taste of Jack Harkness.  
 
The kiss did not last very long, just long enough to sate their curiosity and make them yearn for 
more.  When they pulled apart, Ianto rested his forehead against Jack’s and let their combined 
scents again invade his body and mind.  
 
Jack sighed and pressed one more kiss to Ianto’s parted mouth. “I have been wanting to do that 
for – ” 
 
“Hours!” Ianto exhaled.  
 
“Yes, hours. I was going to say ‘a long time.’ But, it hasn’t been that long, has it? It feels…” He 
didn’t want to finish the sentence. It sounded too corny even for him! 
 
But, Ianto agreed with him. “It does.” 
 
They continued their walk, at a slower pace, with a tighter handhold than before and a few more 
feather-light kisses along the way. 
 
“Are we headed somewhere?” Jack asked some minutes later. 
 
“Well, it’s getting a bit late. I have to open the shop tomorrow.” 
 
“So, we’re headed towards your flat?” 
 
Ianto nodded. “Is that alright? It’s not far.” 
 
“It’s fine, Ianto. And it is getting late.” 
 
Ianto led them a few streets away from the river onto a quaint block of old houses with brightly 
colored window boxes and small, gated front yards.  
 
“This way.” Ianto led Jack through an archway on the left and entered a courtyard surrounded by 
three buildings of two-story apartments, each with a balcony, much wider than Jack’s.  It was in 

need to re-bricking and some weeding, but otherwise was quite attractive. Jack could imagine 
Ianto sitting out here sketching its moss covered stone fountain for the birds and the wooden 
chaise chairs scattered about.  
 
“Wow, this is something else!” Jack said, spinning around to take in the sight. “You have two 
floors?” 
 
“Yeah, I’m lucky. My best mate and I both live here and Monsieurs Homme and Ballanger are 
rather generous.” 
 
They stopped outside of an apartment on the end, neither making any move towards Ianto’s door. 
Jack rubbed circles along the top of his date’s hand and made a decision. He didn’t want to 
pressure Ianto into letting him in. He didn’t want to rush what was blossoming between them. He 
wanted to take his time, not too much, but just enough. He trusted that they would both 
instinctively know how long that was. Everything about his encounters with Ianto fell neatly into 
place and Jack hoped that by walking home alone that night, he would have the chance to see 
how Fate would move them about next. 
 
“Well, I guess this is where I say goodnight, Ianto.” 
 
“Goodnight, Jack, and thank you.” 
 
“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you for agreeing to go out with me in the first place?” 
 
“I would have been a fool not to after all the trouble you went through.” 
 
“No trouble at all.” 
 
They smiled at each other for a long moment before Ianto leaned in and kissed Jack’s soft lips. 
“So, when can I see you again?” 
 
“Whenever you want!” Jack exclaimed. 
 
“Tomorrow? I’m not working. Maybe I can try my hand at tour guide?” 
 
“I’d love it. What time should we head out?” 
 
“Right after breakfast? Say 9ish?” 
 
“Perfect. I’ll pick you up here.” 
 
“It’s a date.” 
 
Jack had to keep his feet from dancing; he was so elated. But, he did sneak in a few more kisses 
before finally breaking away from the Welshman. After Ianto vanished into his home, Jack spun 
around and jogged happily out of the courtyard. 

 
Ianto locked the door behind him and headed to the kitchen. He was too excited to sleep, perhaps 
a little snack before bed would calm him down.  
 
When he walked into the small room, he saw his best friend and flatmate with his head buried 
into the open refrigerator. He must have had the same thought. Ianto was about to turn around, 
not wanting to talk about his date or anything else, but his friend called out. 
 
“Ianto mate, is that you?” 
 
Ianto sighed. “Yeah, Rhys. What are you doing?” 
 
“Just grabbing a little something to hold me until breakfast.” Rhys pulled out a few pieces of 
fruit and placed them on the countertop beside a few slices of bread and a peanut butter jar. 
 
“Looks rather healthy for you,” Ianto commented. 
 
“I’ll make up for it tomorrow. So, how was your date?” 
 
Ianto really didn’t want to answer, mostly because he knew Rhys didn’t want to know.  
 
Rhys had been living with Ianto in Parí for a few years, and he never had much luck with 
romances. Ianto suspected that that was fine with him… as long as Ianto was alone as well. He 
didn’t want to upset Rhys and he wanted him to like Jack when they eventually met. Ianto hoped 
they would soon. Even after one date, he couldn’t help his mind forming long-term thoughts.   
 
“Ianto? Did you hear me? I asked how your date went with that guy?” 
 
“Sorry, Rhys, I drifted there for a moment. It went well, really well.” 
 
“’Really well?’ So, you’re going to see him again?” 
 
Ianto nodded. “Tomorrow. I told him I would show him around town.” 
 
“You going to show him your studio?” 
 
Ianto frowned; he knew what Rhys was trying to ask. No one went into Ianto’s art studio except 
Rhys and that was only by invitation. If Ianto said he was taking Jack there, it would tell Rhys 
how invested Ianto was in the American. “I don’t think my studio is in the top five places to see 
when in Parí, Rhys.” 
 
Rhys shrugged and gave his friend a lop-sided grin. “Just asking. If he’s as gorgeous as you say 
he is, maybe he’d be willing to model for you!” 
 
“Ha! Perhaps I’ll ask him for our third date,” Ianto joked. Rhys knew it was a joke too because 
Ianto rarely painted portraits. 

 
“Well, I’m glad you had a good time tonight, mate,” Rhys said, turning away from Ianto to fix 
his fruit and peanut butter sandwich. 
 
“Thanks, Rhys. Night.” Ianto got up and headed towards the stairs to his bedroom. Having lost 
his appetite, he decided he would do some sketching instead before getting some sleep. And he 
knew exactly what he wanted to draw.  
 
  

 
      CHAPTER SEVEN 

 

The following morning Owen sat at an outdoor café table at Perusse’s, his nose, strangely for 
him, stuck in a book, and a cooling bowl of coffee at his elbow. He had been there since 
breakfast, about an hour ago, but only took the book out after Jack left to meet his new playmate. 
Owen didn’t remember the boy’s name, just that it was Welsh and he didn’t care so much 
anyway. They would be leaving soon, a month by Jack’s calculations, so Owen did not see the 
point in getting the details of Jack’s lil’ fling. It would be over before it even started. Let Jack 
have his fun; it kept the Captain occupied at the very least, and out of Owen’s hair for a while. 
 
Owen admitted to himself that he was actually enjoying spending this time with Jack. Ever since 
he joined Torchwood, he’d never had much quality time with the other man. No one had quality 
time with anyone. But Owen liked Jack. He was a man with many secrets, but could make Owen 
feel like a trusted confidant just by letting him know what his plans were for the day. So, yes, he 
liked Jack, liked living and working with Jack, but he needed a break every now and then. The 
man was full of too much cheer lately! It bothered Owen that Jack adapted so easily to this 
world, was so willing to fall into line and blend in with everyone. Even after all the time he had 
spent here, Owen still felt like an outsider. So, he decided to read up some more on Parí and see 
if he could find the joy Jack saw so quickly in the city.  
 
It was hard to think of this place as Paris because it had so much more English influence than the 
Paris he knew. Parí had so many British people living here that most people Owen knew, save 
the Perusse family, spoke a mixture of both French and English. As he found out quickly upon 
his arrival, France did not have the Euro. Instead of homogenizing the currency with the Euro, 
most countries on the western portion of Europe used the British pound sterling. It was strange to 
think about these and all the other differences between his world and this one. 
 
One of the big changes was technology and society. This painting world had some technology, 
landlines, plumbing, modern household appliances. But, the televisions were older, mobiles were 
rarities and the cars were mostly classic models with a few up-to-date features. It was terribly 
confusing, but Owen mostly figured that it was based on society’s wants and needs. This world 
did not have the instant gratification of his world, nor did it have the need for the flashy, 
superficial Hollywood based media frenzy. Cinemas were very popular, but they harkened back 
to the golden era of film, around the 1950’s; computer generated animation was non-existent. 
The internet was still full of pornography though, much to Owen’s delight; that would have been 
too much change.  

 
Owen flipped the page of his book, Bonjour, Parí, a thin volume he purchased from a privately 
owned bookshop around the corner, and pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. 
They weren’t his pair from home; they were another purchase he’d had to make, seeing how 
gorgeous the weather was here. Owen tilted his head up to the bright sunshine and smiled. Today 
the sun seemed to be battling with a few clouds and Owen suspected a passing thundershower 
would be in his future. He liked those, humid air, steaming pavements and warm rain. It was 
much better than cold, soggy, sodden Wales. 
 
“Wow, an actual smile in place of a scowl. Owen Harper, I doubted you were capable of it.” 
 
Owen’s smile turned into smirk as he took in the person blocking his light. He lowered his 
glasses to look at Gwen over the frames. “Gwen. I’d ask you to join me, but I am trying to have a 
nice morning. So, off you go.” Pushing the glasses back into place, he returned to his book. 
 
“What makes you think I’d want to sit with you anyway?” she asked as she took a seat in the 
empty chair across from Owen. 
 
“Because Jack has come and gone and you don’t seem to have anything else to do. But, I’m not 
in the mood to entertain just now.” 
 
“What a shame for me then.” 
 
They sat in silence for quite some time, neither wanting to be the first to break it. For Gwen, it 
was a battle of wills against this man who had taken such an instant dislike to her, which she still 
did not fully understand. Owen however, wanted to keep reading his book, but he didn’t mind 
company, just so long as she looked cute and curbed all desires to talk about Jack. The choice 
was taken out of their hands when Monsieur Perusse came outside with two silver pots, one of 
coffee and one of milk, and refilled Owen’s bowl. 
 
“And anything for you, mademoiselle?” 
 
Gwen looked pointedly at Owen and when he didn’t protest and just kept reading, she said, “A 
macchiato please?” Monsieur Perusse nodded. 
 
“Thanks, Jacques,” Owen called. 
 
“Why are you reading a history book?” Gwen asked, leaning her elbows onto the glass top. 
 
“To learn about history,” Owen replied. 
 
“That’s rather obvious. But, you live here. Didn’t you research it before you moved down here?” 
 
“No, I didn’t.” Owen’s face was passive, but his voice was clipped. Gwen remembered what 
Jack had said about Owen going through rough times and she decided not to press the matter. 
“Why are you here?” Owen asked her. 

 
“At the café? Or in Parí?” 
 
“Whichever,” he replied, not very interested. 
 
“I don’t know really. I needed a vacation, but I’m heading into my third week away from Wales 
now. I seem to be avoiding going back home. There’s just something about this place…” 
 
Owen looked up. “What about it?” 
 
The brunette shrugged and blew the fringe from her eyes. “I don’t know. It just feels so 
welcoming. I’m a stranger here, but no one treats me that way. People I meet are instantly warm 
and kind. Well, except for you.” 
 
“You don’t find kindness in Wales?” Owen asked, ignoring her comment. 
 
“It’s not the same, is it? It’s just home. You’re used to being there, to seeing the same people and 
the same cafes day in and out. But here, it’s a different café, but I still feel at home. You can get 
lost in a place like this. It shows you all this wonder, and you can be alone, but not lonely.” 
 
Owen stared at Gwen and the wistful look in her eyes. He couldn’t see the world that way, not 
when Jack described it and not when Gwen just did. But he wanted to, so much. He wanted to be 
alone but not lonely. To drink coffee in his café and not just taste coffee, but the thrill of a new 
flavor and the comfort and security in finding something new. Maybe he didn’t know what he 
truly wanted. Maybe he was scared to want anything at all. But, in that exact moment, seeing 
Gwen’s face as she explained why she stayed in this little area of the world, he wanted nothing 
more than to see things through her eyes.  
 
He closed the book and placed it on the table. Monsieur Perusse came and delivered Gwen’s 
order and quickly retreated inside. The pair drank their coffees, both lost in their own thoughts. 
The skies above them began to cloud over and the wind started to ruffle their hair, but they 
remained silent, sipping their drinks, watching the passersby and each other.  
 
Owen was just finishing the last drops from his bowl when he had a reckless thought. Without 
allowing himself the chance to think about it, he just said it out loud. 
 
“Do you want to get out of here?” 
 
Gwen looked up in surprise. Owen’s face was open, no sign of snark or ridicule to be seen. 
“Yes,” she agreed. Owen nodded as he fished out his wallet a left a few pound notes under bowl. 
“Did you have a place in mind?” 
 
“Show me Parí?” 
 
Above them, a rumble of thunder rolled through the darkening clouds.  
 

“We might get soaked,” Gwen said, eyeing the clouds. 
 
“Do you care?”  
 
Gwen shook her head.  
 
“Then let’s go.” 
 
 
 
It was several hours before the thunderstorm to start. While Gwen and Owen were huddled 
inside a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in sight of the new Eiffel Tower, Jack and Ianto were running 
through the streets, hand in hand, laughing. They were soaked to the bone, but didn’t care a bit.  
 
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to pass anytime soon,” Ianto commented, slowing their pace a 
little as the puddles got steadily deeper and deeper.  
 
“I think you’re right. And that lightning is getting more frequent.” Jack stopped in the middle of 
the street and looked around. There were still signs of life, people just as carefree as Jack and 
Ianto, jumping over the little streams that flowed between cobbles and ran downhill and ducking 
into doorways for shelter before venturing to the next destination. But, the sky was getting darker 
and darker, the lightning piercing the thick clouds and the thunder cracking above. It was so loud 
that Jack couldn’t hear what Ianto was saying to him. “What did you say?” he yelled over the 
pounding rain. 
 
“I think we need to wait this out somewhere!” the Welshman repeated. 
 
“Good idea. Over there?” Jack pointed to a crowded café full of equally sodden people. 
 
Another bolt of lightning lit the sky and made Ianto jump. The storm had been percolating for 
sometime, but he hadn’t imagined it was going to be so severe. Ianto looked at the café and then 
down the street. He had an idea, but he was still a little unsure whether or not he wanted to go 
through it. They’d had such a lovely morning that he didn’t want to risk ruining it. But, as he 
looked a Jack, utterly drenched with rivulets of water running from the tips of his brown hair 
down his face and over his still smiling lips, Ianto thought that he needed to take the chance no 
matter how soon in their relationship it was or how unlike him it was. There was just something 
about being with Jack that brought out the adventurer in Ianto. And he loved it. 
 
“Hey!” Jack called, pulling on Ianto’s hand. “Where did you go?” 
 
Ianto just blinked and smiled at him. “Just thinking. If you can stand it for a few more minutes, I 
know somewhere we can go.” 
 
There was something lurking in the younger man’s blue eyes, something that Jack couldn’t quite 
make out. They sparkled in the stark white flashes from the sky and looked at him so steadily 
even as the rain dripped heavily onto his long eyelashes. It was a beautiful sight to behold, his 

Welshman, yes, his, usually so well kempt, standing calmly in matted clothes waiting for Jack’s 
response. “Lead on.” 
 
Ianto did just that, taking Jack down the block to a nice looking building, several stories high 
with very large windows. On the first floor was a beautiful looking flower shop, bursting with 
color. 
 
“Oh, Ianto, you don’t need to buy me flowers!” Jack joked when they stepped under the awning 
by the door. 
 
“And here I thought you would look so gorgeous covered in rose petals. My mistake.” 
 
“Don’t tempt me, Jones,” Jack growled, wrapping his arms around the other man. 
 
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ianto quipped. He pecked Jack on the nose before stepping out of his 
arms and digging into his jacket pockets. 
 
“So, if we aren’t here to make a bed of roses, which we should put on a to-do list by the way, 
why are we at a flower shop?” 
 
Ianto retrieved a key ring from his pocket, grabbed Jack by the arm and led him down the narrow 
alley between the flower shop and the building beside it. “We aren’t at a flower shop, well, not 
just a flower shop.” Ianto stopped in front of a green wooden door and using his key, unlocked it; 
a winding iron staircase was before them. Ianto turned back to Jack, excitement shining in his 
face. “Come on!” 
 
They raced up the stairs to the top floor, both slightly out of breath. There was only one door that 
Jack could see along the hall and he wondered what lay beyond. But he kept his curiosity silent 
as Ianto used another key to open this next door. When he heard the telltale click of the lock’s 
release, Jack stepped forward, but Ianto didn’t move.  
 
“Ianto? Everything okay?” Ianto nodded and took a deep breath, but still didn’t move. Jack 
remembered him doing this the previous night when he got nervous. Placing a hand on his 
shoulder, Jack bent in, letting his lips brush the nape of Ianto’s neck as he spoke. “What did you 
want to show me?” Jack had an inkling of where they were, and he was happy that Ianto wanted 
to take him there, but he didn’t want to stress the poor man out.  
 
Ianto leaned backwards, loving the sensation of Jack’s breath on his wet skin. Why was he 
nervous? There was no need, surely? But, what if Jack didn’t like what he found inside? Would 
he look at Ianto differently? Could Ianto accept that?  
 
“Let’s go in, Ianto,” Jack whispered, barely audible amongst the din of pelting rain on the roof. 
He placed a kiss on Ianto’s neck and straightened up. Ianto followed suit and pushed the heavy 
door open and flicked on a light switch. 
 

Jack gasped. They were exactly where he suspected, Ianto’s art studio. It was an amazing space 
with tall windows that began at the ceiling and stopped three feet from the floor, running along 
the front and left walls. Thin, beige curtains were hung for privacy, but were currently tied back 
to let in the light. Painted canvases were all around the space, some lying on the worn wooden 
floorboards, others propped against the walls. In the middle of the room, on top of a grey, paint 
spattered drop cloth, was a very long easel holding an equally long stretched canvas, primed 
white. Jack could only make out a few markings on it, but it looked like it was Ianto’s newest 
work, not yet fully plotted out.  
 
Jack stepped further into the room, leaving Ianto in the doorway. He turned around and saw more 
artwork secured to the wall. These pieces, indeed most of the ones Jack could see, were scenic. 
Some were very realistic depictions of Parí, while others were more cartoonish with brilliant 
blocks of color and a visible black outlines. As Jack’s eyes roamed over the display, he couldn’t 
help but feel overwhelmed by the breadth of Ianto’s talent. No matter the style, and he seemed 
versed in a few, Ianto’s work was evocative. Not only could Jack feel his own connection to the 
atmosphere within the pieces, but he could feel Ianto’s emotions, and lack of, within each brush 
stroke. By just taking in these paintings Jack felt like he knew all the inner workings of Ianto 
Jones, the artist and the man. 
 
The storm raged on outside, the lightning throwing stark relief over Ianto’s canvases, the rain 
and cracks of thunder filling the silence. 
 
When he couldn’t wait any longer, anxiety building up, Ianto muttered, “You’ve been quiet for 
too long.” 
 
“There’s so much to take in,” Jack explained. He turned away from the gallery wall and noticed 
a mattress on the floor, a lump of pillows and folded duvet on top of it. “Do you sleep here 
often?” 
 
“I… occasionally lose track of time.” 
 
“You? I find that hard to believe.” 
 
“Sometimes, if I’m working on a piece I’m excited about or I just get lost in the moment. 
Sometimes, I just lie there and think, look out the window and… think. There’s also a sink and 
small cupboard behind that curtain,” Ianto indicated the bead-covered entrance off to the right. “I 
keep coffee and a few things here too. Would you like some coffee?” Ianto closed the door and 
escaped into the tiny space, the beads clacking against each other as he passed through. 
 
Jack sighed. Poor Ianto. He wondered if the young artist ever took people to his studio; he highly 
doubted it. Jack understood why he would be reluctant. The studio was obviously a sacred space 
for Ianto to work and allow his creativity to flow uninhibited by the outside. Those large 
windows, with their sheer curtains, allowed Ianto to see the world and all the beauty of the city, 
the sky, the Seine, but he could close them off just as easily as he closed his eyes.  
 

Jack wandered over to the easel and tried to make out the light sketches on the canvas. The 
strokes were sweeping, lots of curves forming what Jack thought might be a hand in the 
foreground. It appeared to be closed, clutching something, but he could not figure out what. He 
tilted his head to the side and took a step away, hoping to have a better perspective, but it didn’t 
help. 
 
“That’s not finished,” Ianto said, stepping back into the room. 
 
“I can see that. What is it going to be?” 
 
“Not quite sure yet. I had this thought, kind of just flashed in my mind, but it passed. Might not 
be anything now.” 
 
“Maybe it will return.” Jack crossed the room and stopped in front of Ianto. Cupping his cool 
cheek in his hand, Jack leaned in a pressed a kiss to his mouth. He felt a tremor run through 
Ianto’s lips as he responded hesitantly. Jack placed several more on his mouth, sucking gently. 
Though they had not kissed very much over the last day, Jack already loved Ianto’s mouth, full 
lips, eager tongue and the ever-present taste of coffee and Ianto.   
 
Using his more experienced tongue, Jack licked along Ianto’s lips before easing inside his 
mouth. 
 
Ianto parted his lips, his own tongue seeking Jack’s. He felt his anxiety melt away in the kiss, the 
care and barely restrained passion in Jack a calming reassurance. He loved the way Jack kissed 
him, held him, so comfortably, fitting their bodies together in just the perfect way. Jack kissed 
with every part of his body; his mere touch, the fingers in his drying hair guiding them even 
closer together, all told Ianto about what Jack was feeling when their mouths were fused to each 
other.  
 
A bright flash and resounding snap of thunder broke them apart; the storm was almost right 
above their heads. They took a moment to recover from the shock, their eyes fixed on the scene 
outside the window. Jack wrapped his arms more tightly around Ianto and laid his head against 
the younger man’s.  
 
“Thank you for bringing me here,” he whispered close to Ianto’s ear. 
 
Ianto shuddered in pleasure. He buried his nose into the crook of Jack’s neck. God, he smelled so 
good, it was overwhelming! He nuzzled the warm, slightly moist skin before nipping at it. When 
he heard Jack inhale sharply, he did it again, and soothed the spot with a hot sweep of his tongue.  
 
“Ianto,” Jack sighed. 
 
Ianto pulled away just enough to see the slightly taller man, their noses brushing, their breath 
heating their lips. “I don’t bring people here, ever. I’m not sure why you’re different, but you are. 
I knew from the moment you stepped over the threshold into my shop.”  
 

Jack bumped his nose with Ianto’s, affectionately. “Same here. Something told me that you 
weren’t just a pretty face in a fine looking suit.” 
 
“Well, I do have good taste in suits.” 
 
“You are gorgeous, Ianto Jones, and you are extremely talented.” 
 
“You like my work?” 
 
“I like your work and I like you, a lot.” 
 
Ianto beamed. “Same here.” Ianto clutched the material of Jack’s shirt, but released it when cold 
water spurted out. “We should dry off a little. I have some towels in the other room.” 
 
“Yeah, that’d be good,” Jack agreed mindlessly as he tried for another kiss. 
 
But, Ianto pulled back. “Oh! And coffee!” Ianto scampered off to get the items. 
 
Jack laughed, letting the rising lust temper a bit. As he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from his 
soaked skin, he tried to remind himself that he and Ianto had only met about 36 hours ago. It felt 
like much longer, but he didn’t want to rush sex with Ianto. He dropped his shirt onto the floor. It 
landed with a loud plop. He then bent over and removed his boots and socks. He looked down at 
his bare feet and wriggled his toes into the smooth wood; they were all wrinkly from the constant 
immersion into the puddles.     
 
Ianto was just reentering the room, two cups of coffee in his hand and several fluffy towels slung 
over his arm, when he stopped at the sight before him. Jack, clad only in jeans that were wetly 
clinging to every curve of his legs, with his hair falling forward in loose waves, his chest, 
completely hairless, glistening, was staring at his feet in the most adorable fashion. Ianto almost 
dropped the mugs as he felt the front of his jeans tighten. He knew Jack was going to be mouth-
wateringly stunning, god-like in the nude, but the way he moved his toes and rose slightly on the 
balls of his feet, was so sexy Ianto had to remember to breathe before he passed out. The young 
man felt his face turn red and his entire body get warm as he took in the expanse of skin on 
display for him, from the man’s feet to his clearly defined abdomen and pecs, to his shoulders 
and all the way down to those long fingers that he loved to feel wrapped around his hand, 
brushing his cheek, straightening his tie –  
 
Oh, fuck, Ianto thought. He wanted Jack badly, but not just his body; he wanted all of him. And 
he wanted to paint him.   
 
“I hope you don’t mind.”  
 
Ianto snapped out of his thoughts when he realised Jack was talking to him. He readjusted his 
lustful gaze to focus on Jack’s shy smile. 
 

“I just dropped everything on the floor. You don’t have a laundry tucked away in that kitchen do 
you?” asked Jack, rubbing his wet arms trying to bring warmth to his skin. Despite Ianto’s heated 
looks that Jack could feel from across the room, the studio was getting chilly.  
 
Ianto’s eyes followed the movement, noting the slight chill racing along Jack’s body. Chastising 
himself for not being more considerate, he crossed to him. After placing the coffee mugs on the 
floor beside his makeshift bed, Ianto gently wrapped the towel around Jack’s shoulders. “No, 
unfortunately. Would be convenient right about now.”  
 
Jack smiled and leaned in to kiss Ianto. “Guess we’ll just have to deal with it. So! Your turn, Mr. 
Jones. Don’t let me be the only one standing here freezing!” 
 
Ianto chuckled and handed Jack the other towel. Very aware of Jack’s presence, the young man 
unbuttoned his shirt and tugged the material off his body. Toeing off his trainers, he bent over 
and removed his socks, dropping them in the pile Jack created on the floor.  
 
Mirroring Ianto’s earlier action, Jack wrapped the fluffy towel around the artist’s shoulders. He 
rubbed the soft material up and down Ianto’s pale arms, trying to stave off any more chills. “Not 
the best day for a tour of the city, but I’d like a tour of the paintings, if you don’t mind?” 
 
Ianto grinned at Jack and nodded. He retrieved the mugs of hot liquid from the floor and after 
handing one to Jack, led him to the far side of the studio. 
 
“Oh God, Ianto!” Jack exclaimed. Ianto spun around to see Jack’s handsome features contorted 
in ecstasy as he held his coffee to his lips. “This is spectacular! How did you learn to make 
coffee like this?” 
 
Still entranced by Jack’s rapturous expression, Ianto shrugged. “I live in France. I picked a few 
things up along the way I suppose.” 
 
Jack leered over the lip of his cup. “I bet you’ve picked up more than coffee making skills, am I 
right?” 
 
Ianto blushed. “It’s hard not to. Now, this over here was a commissioned piece for a gallery 
exhibition a few years back.” 
 
Jack looked at the work Ianto was pointing to; it was one of his scenic paintings. In the 
foreground was a glass circular table with a few haphazardly placed items on it, a book, an 
espresso cup, a few stray petals from the flowering tree that hung above. The background was a 
faded, blurry wash of color, shades of white, pink, tan and yellow. “Does it have a title?” Jack 
wondered as he looked at the painting this way and that. 
 
Ianto nodded. “‘What I Want To See.’” 
 
“Why is it called that?” 
 

Ianto took a step behind Jack, letting him stand in front of the piece fully. “Keep looking,” he 
instructed. 
 
Jack did as he was told, but he couldn’t find the reason for the title. The background had little 
form, just the swipes of color that hinted at the location of the table. He looked at the book, the 
cup, the petals, a watermark on the glass table – and there it was. Hidden in the glass, underneath 
the objects was the reflection of a person. Jack stepped forward and reached out to the image; his 
fingers barely a centimeter away from the oil. 
 
“You found it,” Ianto said, a hint of pride in his voice. 
 
“Who is it?” 
 
“I don’t know. I saw her in my glass tabletop one day when I was at a café. She looked so 
forlorn, just standing there, breathing in and out. I did a whole series on hidden images, 
reflections. It wasn’t an original subject, but it did well.” 
 
“You have an amazing eye for color.” 
 
“That’s what Monsieur Homme tells me!” 
 
Ianto showed him other pieces he had exhibited and a few copies of works he sold. Jack loved 
watching Ianto talk about his work. The Captain did not know a great deal about art, but he knew 
true passion and devotion when he saw it. Ianto showed both when discussing his paintings and 
his muses. Jack felt that he was getting an inside look into how Ianto appeared when he was in 
love.  
 
“I’m not boring you, am I?” Ianto asked as they sat down on the mattress, damp towels 
underneath them. 
 
“Not in the slightest!” 
 
“I feel like I keep talking about my work, but I haven’t heard much about yours at all.” 
 
Jack put his cup on the floor and flopped backwards against the pillows. He didn’t want to talk 
about his work; he’d told enough lies to Ianto about what he did. Any more and he might lose 
track. Instead, he looked out at the expansive view, the lightening flashing periodically and the 
rain blurring the outside world. “Come here,” Jack beckoned. Ianto scooted back on the bed, 
lying down beside Jack. With a soft chuckle, Jack threw his arm around Ianto and pulled him 
closer. “Look at that.” 
 
Ianto stared at the stormy sky and then back at the man beside him. “It’s something alright.” 
 
Jack placed a kiss on Ianto’s forehead. “It is, isn’t it? I could lie here all day.” 
 

One of Ianto’s hands crept over Jack’s smooth, warm stomach. He loved the way the muscles 
rippled under his touch. As his fingers danced over his abdomen, Ianto whispered, “We can do 
that. No sense in going out right now.” 
 
Jack hummed his agreement. “Then we stay where we are.” 
 
 They stayed curled up on the mattress together for a long while, Ianto’s hand lazily roaming 
over Jack’s chest while Jack’s fingers tangled in the waves of the artist’s hair and tickled the 
nape of his neck.  
 
The afternoon was quickly turning into dusk, much too quickly for Jack. Ianto was warm by his 
side, his whispered words tantalizing Jack’s senses. Oh, that Welsh accent! They didn’t talk a 
great deal more, just about mundane things and about what they were going to do that evening. 
At one point, Jack started to hum and Ianto snuggled further into his side and asked for more. 
Jack laughed, but sang softly to him. In his mind, Jack thought this was a fine compromise; he 
didn’t want to continue to spin tales about his nightclub singing lifestyle, but he could still share 
his songs with the artist. And Ianto wasn’t complaining.  
 
“I love how you sing,” Ianto mumbled when Jack stopped. 
 
“And how do I sing?” 
 
“Effortlessly. It’s as easy as breathing for you, isn’t it?” 
 
“I guess so. Never thought about it like that, but yeah. I could just as easily sing as speak.” Jack 
felt Ianto nod his head. “Is that what drew you to me?” 
 
“Yes. All my life I’ve always wanted my own personal jukebox,” Ianto replied, drily. 
 
“Is that so?” With more exertion than he displayed in the past few hours, Jack rolled them over 
so he had Ianto pinned beneath him to the bed. “You only want me for my voice?” 
 
“Yup. Nothing else.” Ianto reached up and captured Jack’s mouth in a fiery kiss. He pulled back 
abruptly, leaving Jack slightly shocked. “Yeah, just a jukebox.” Ianto laughed at the confusion 
on Jack’s face and then swiftly took advantage. He flipped their positions so Ianto was straddling 
Jack; the older man rested his hands on Ianto’s thighs. Ianto took some time to survey the man 
beneath him, enjoying the new vantage. Jack was so comfortable in his body, and with their 
closeness, while Ianto had butterflies. He knew that he wasn’t unpleasant to look at, but Jack was 
in a whole other category, his own category!  
 
Jack was taking equal time gazing up at Ianto. He knew the time had come to either make his 
move or commit to taking things slowly. Ianto’s eyes were wandering all over him, leaving a 
trail of heat in their wake, but there was a bit of reserve there as well. Jack could understand that. 
But Ianto was so handsome, all pale unmarred skin and dark tufts of hair. As his hands gently 
squeezed Ianto’s legs, Jack thought about taking him in the studio, on this mattress. He imagined 
being inside the artist, pounding into him, filling him, as the storm raged on, keeping them 

trapped inside together. A moan escaped Jack’s lips as he felt his arousal swell. Images of Ianto, 
sweaty, panting, legs wrapped tightly around him, holding Jack inside of him, crying out for him, 
flashed through his mind. 
 
“Jack?”  
 
Jack stopped massaging Ianto’s thighs and refocused on his would-be, soon-to-be, lover. His 
blue eyes were dark with want and his hands gripped Jack’s forearms. He looked like he was 
trying to hold himself together, but was doing a poor job of it. Jack bit his lip and it was Ianto’s 
turn to moan. The young man rocked forward, just a bit and closed his eyes in pleasure at the feel 
of their erections meeting. “You are so gorgeous,” Jack whispered.  
 
Ianto sighed and entwined their fingers together. “You’re the gorgeous one, Jack. I can’t believe 
you’re here with me.” 
 
“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Ianto. I mean that.” Jack tugged Ianto’s hands until the young man 
was laid on top of him, their faces inches apart. “That’s better,” Jack said before kissing him. 
 
“Do you want this?” Ianto asked when they broke apart. “Do you want me?” 
 
Jack caressed the soft skin of Ianto’s cheek, feeling his heart melt as Ianto leaned into his touch. 
“Yes, I do. We don’t have to, though. I can wait.” 
 
“I don’t know if I can,” confessed Ianto.    
 
Jack kissed him again and let his hands roam all over Ianto’s back. Best laid plans, Jack thought.  
 
They kissed and touched, getting familiar with every curve and every freckle. Jack found a 
magic spot behind Ianto’s right ear that turned the Welshman into a groaning puddle. He tortured 
the skin, nuzzling, nipping and sucking the area until Ianto grabbed his hair and pulled him 
away, only to smash their mouths together, gracelessly.    
 
Ianto made his own discovery as well. As he kissed down Jack’s chest, taking his time to caress 
both nipples with his tongue, his hands traipsed along Jack’s ribs. The muscles twitched and Jack 
began to squirm. Ianto’s mouth moved lower, placing tiny kisses up and down his breastbone. 
Ianto let his breath tease Jack’s moist skin and his fingernails gently scrape along his sensitive 
sides. Jack arched upwards, wanting Ianto’s mouth to continue. The young man gladly complied 
and intensified his attentions, his kisses stronger and his gentle stroking more insistent.  
 
Suddenly, Jack’s squirming turned into a full body jerk. Ianto sprang off of him. “Jack! Wha- 
What’s wrong?” 
 
Jack took several deep breaths and shook his head. “Sorry, I… Well, you…” Jack’s voice trailed 
off and Ianto couldn’t hear what else he said.  
 
“Jack? What did I do?” 

 
“Nothing! Nothing wrong. God, nothing wrong at all! It’s just that sometimes I get… ticklish.” 
Jack ducked his head and bit his grinning lips. 
 
“I tickled you?” Jack nodded, his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain his laughter. “I wasn’t 
going for playful,” Ianto responded, sitting back away from Jack.  
 
Jack scrambled forward and dragged the pouting man into his lap. “I know, Ianto, I know, and 
I’m so sorry for breaking the mood. You hit just the right spot!” he laughed. 
 
“Lucky me.” 
 
Jack kissed Ianto several times until the other man smiled and kissed him back. “Just think, you 
can use this information against me at some point.” 
 
“Yeah, if I can find it again.” 
 
Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto and laid them back onto the bed. “I would love for you to 
try! Right now actually.” 
 
“Are you getting demanding, Mr. Harkness?” 
 
“Not at all, Mr. Jones. Just want to get back to where we were.” 
 
“If memory serves, which it always does, then I was about here.” Ianto positioned himself on top 
of Jack as he had been before. “My hands were about here and my mouth I believe…” Ianto bent 
down to lick and nip down towards Jack’s stomach. “Does that seem about right to you?” 
 
“I think so. Though I think you might have mentioned something about these trousers.” 
 
Ianto looked down at the garment. They were mostly dry now and not gripping Jack’s body so 
tightly, well, except where his erection was pressing against the zipper. Ianto wetted his lips 
before addressing Jack, his face full of innocence. “They are fine trousers to be sure. I don’t 
recall mentioning them as I tickled you though.” 
 
“Oh, I think you did! You mumbled something about ripping them off me and replacing them 
later on. Yes, definitely, you mentioned ripping.” 
 
“Doesn’t sound like me. I wouldn’t tear such a fine pair of trousers! They’re really quite soft.” 
To emphasize his point, Ianto scooted down the bed to nuzzle the fabric that separated him from 
Jack’s cock. “I wouldn’t want to pull a stitch. So, we’ll have to do this with care.” 
 
“Care?!” Where did cheeky Ianto come from? Not a few seconds ago, the younger man was 
worried he’d hurt Jack. “Ianto, you really don’t have to be careful.” 
 

“Oh, but I do!” At a painstakingly slow pace, Ianto slid the button of Jack’s trousers through its 
hole and guided the brass zipper down, tooth by tooth. Jack threw his head back and groaned his 
annoyance. Ianto just kept going, unmoved by the display. Finally, the zipper was open and the 
fabric parted. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” 
 
“Cheeky bastard!” Jack exclaimed with a laugh. “What happens next, Mr. Jones?” 
 
“Upon closer inspection, I think I can find you a better pair of trousers.” Without further 
preamble, Ianto hooked his fingers into the waistbands of Jack’s briefs and trousers and yanked 
them down his longs legs. Jack let out a yip of surprise as his limbs flew into the air and bounced 
against the rumpled duvet.  
 
Ianto tossed the clothes aside, never taking his eyes off of his lover’s fully naked body. “Bloody 
amazing,” he muttered, his hands reaching out to stroke the hot, erect cock that bobbed before 
him.  
 
Jack was transfixed by the sight of Ianto’s hands around him, his touch reverent and insistent. He 
kept still, using all of his strength not to buck upwards. He let Ianto take the lead so far and he 
didn’t want to scare him off. When Ianto’s mouth opened to taste him, Jack was sure he was 
going to die. Reviving during sex was not something he wanted to repeat and he didn’t think 
Ianto would appreciate it either. As amazing as Ianto’s attentions were before, having all of that 
care focused on his dick was practically unbearable!  
 
It didn’t take long until Ianto could feel the telltale signs that Jack was going to come. He readied 
himself, relaxing his throat, and continued his ministrations. 
 
“Stop, stop, stop!” Jack begged. “Not yet.” 
 
Ianto removed Jack’s cock from his mouth. “You are a demanding one,” he laughed.  
 
“Yes, I am. I know what I want. And what I really want, Mr. Jones, is you inside me, preferably 
now.” 
 
Ianto’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Yes, Sir!” 
 
 
It was some hours later that Ianto rose from the mattress, careful not to wake his lover, who was 
sleeping soundly. The storm had past and the night was crystal clear with bright stars and a 
brilliant crescent moon illuminating the sky. Ianto rolled his neck, stretched his sore muscles. He 
wasn’t sure what had woken him. His sleep was normally deep and undisturbed. Perhaps it was 
just the feel of having someone else beside him in his bed. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means, 
but it was different; he’d almost forgotten what it was like. 
 
Ianto walked over to the canvas on his easel. He had so many images in his head that he wanted 
to capture and whatever that one was, it was pushed away in favor of another. Ianto turned to 
look at Jack and couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across his face or stop the rapid beating 

of his heart. Jack was asleep on his stomach, the duvet bunched low around his hips. His mouth 
was slightly parted and one large hand dangled onto the floor. Despite having spent the better 
part of the evening making love with the man, the mere sight of him, on that old mattress in his 
studio was incongruous! Ianto’s art studio was a place for him, a place to work, to be free and 
alone.  
 
Ianto slowly turned in a circle, taking in his space, taking in Jack and how he was part of the 
space now. Picking up his pencil, Ianto quickly marked the canvas, lightly laying out a new piece 
that popped into his head. He worked diligently, wanting to get as much accomplished as he 
could before the lure of sleep and Jack’s warm body became undeniable. 

 
 
 
       CHAPTER EIGHT  

 
Over the next week, Jack and Ianto were inseparable, taking in the sights of Parí and enjoying 
each other’s company. They shared more stories from their pasts, Jack’s were quite edited, but as 
honest as possible, and they found out more and more things that they had in common. Ianto 
became a fixture at the Bleu Allée whenever Jack was performing. Jack formally introduced 
Ianto to Owen and the pianist was surprisingly well behaved. Jack took it as a good sign that 
maybe Owen was trying to adjust to this world finally. He noticed the doctor was spending time 
with Gwen, which suited him fine. He had the feeling that it was just for mutual gratification, but 
he hoped that some of Gwen’s sunshine attitude might burn through the cloud under which 
Owen lived.  
 
One fine afternoon, a few hours before Jack had to be at the club, the singer walked down the 
street towards his flat with several packages in his hands. He’d just come from Ballanger et 
Homme where he picked up a few pieces of his new wardrobe. He couldn’t wait to get them 
home and hung in the closet. It was more of a gap in the wall than a closet and Owen took up a 
lot of the space, but Jack was still excited to have some nice, new things. It did bring to mind the 
idea of his current living situation.  
 
Jack had been living with Owen for a little over seven days and as much as Jack didn’t mind 
being around his pianist, he hated sleeping on the floor. It was slightly less comfortable than the 
mattress in Ianto’s studio, which Jack, of course favored given its proximity to its owner. 
However, if Jack had his own place, he could have a comfortable place to sleep, for him and 
Ianto to sleep. He would also have a closet for himself, and maybe a spare suit for Ianto, so he 
wouldn’t have to leave his bed to run home and dress before work.  
 
Jack smiled and bounced the wrapped packages in his arms. Ianto! Every time he thought about 
him, he immediately got giddy. Their first night together had been magical. Jack couldn’t have 
planned it better if he tried. The sex was fantastic and waking up beside the young man was 
blissful. He remembered turning over and slowly opening his eyes to see a sleeping Ianto, 
completely at peace, curled up beside him, a blue paint stained hand near Jack’s shoulder. Jack 
took the hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles; he could get used to this, he thought.  
 

Yes, getting his own place needed to become a priority. He had told Owen that it would take 
Tosh and Susie about three weeks to get a rescue plan together. Now he hoped it would be 
longer. Part of him hoped they never rescued him. He was happy here. No aliens, no politics, no 
death, just a job, a boyfriend and possibly a new flat.  
 
Jack sang merrily as he stepped off the pavement to cross to his flat. He was so lost in his happy 
thoughts that he completely missed the car that was coming down the road. It happened so 
quickly. 
 
A horn honked. Tires screeched. The smell of burning rubber hit his nose. He turned. His heart 
stopped. And a voice yelled out, “Outta the way!”  
 
Jack felt something hit him low on his body. He fell backwards with the force of it, throwing his 
precious clothes into the air. He landed hard, smacking his head on the unforgiving ground. 
Something heavy was on top of him. He couldn’t move and his vision was starting to get blurry. 
That was not a good sign, neither was the thick, wet trickle of what had to be blood that was 
running down behind his ear.  
 
Please don’t let me die, he thought over and over. Not now. Ianto. 
 
“Hey, mate, are you alright? Don’t close your eyes! Look at me, mate. Are you hurt?” 
 
Jack blinked his heavy lids and tried to do as the voice asked. He saw what looked like two or 
three or five men standing over him. The more he blinked the more the men merged into one. 
 
“Come on, mate, talk to me. How hard did you hit your head? You’re bloody lucky that car 
didn’t hit you!” 
 
Wait! It didn’t hit him? Jack took a few low breaths and tried to understand what happened, but 
all he could think of was the blood tickling him. “What happened?” he croaked. 
 
“What happened was you stepped in front of a car and nearly got killed, that’s what happened! 
Thank God I saw you in time and knocked you over.” 
 
So, he that was the weight holding Jack down. Jack blinked some more and finally his vision 
cleared enough to see his rescuer clearly. “I know you, don’t I?” 
 
The stranger scrubbed a hand over his face, relief in his eyes. “Yeah, you do. We met about a 
week ago. I work with Owen.” 
 
“I work with Owen,” Jack slurred. He tried to sit up, but the stranger stopped him. 
 
“Take it easy there. I think you hit your head pretty hard. We should probably take you to 
hospital just to be on the safe side. Nothing to see here!” 
 

It was then that Jack noticed the small crowd that gathered around them. He noticed a frazzled 
man by the stopped car, whom Jack assumed had to be the driver. Poor guy, it wasn’t his fault. 
 
“No hospital. I just need to sit up.” Realising his body wasn’t a mass of shattered bones, Jack 
knew that his head wound would heal quickly enough.  
 
The stranger and another gentleman helped Jack lift his upper body off the ground into a sitting 
position. “Keep your head down, mate, it’ll help with the dizziness.” 
 
“Thanks.” Jack put a hand to his head and winced. It came away covered in blood, but he could 
already feel his skin repairing itself. Hearing a rise of gasps and murmurs around him, Jack 
looked up to the small crowd. “It looks worse than it is,” he reassured them. “What about my 
clothes?” 
 
“Clothes? What clothes, mate? The ones you’re wearing?” 
 
“No, I had… clothes. Packages. I was carrying them when the car – ” 
 
“Oh those! Sorry, they got a bit scattered.” 
 
“I’ll round them up,” volunteered the other man. 
 
“And I’ll go talk to the driver. Looks rather peaked. You stay put, mate. I’ll be right back.” 
 
Jack nodded his head and immediately regretted it. Someone came over with a cool, wet flannel 
for him, another with a glass of water. The other man who helped him up was busily running 
around, gathering the torn goods. Jack prayed they were salvageable. 
 
The stranger returned a short while later and the crowds disperse. 
 
“Are you sure you’re alright there?” 
 
Jack swallowed a mouthful of water before replying. “Yes, thank you. Thank you for everything. 
If you hadn’t…” Jack didn’t want to think about it. If this man hadn’t helped him, he could have 
died and worse, revived in front of the whole neighborhood.  
 
“Don’t think about it. I was here and you’re going to be fine. My name’s Rhys, by the way, Rhys 
Williams.” Rhys stuck out his hand and Jack shook it gently, not jostling himself too much. 
 
“Jack Harkness.” 
 
Rhys froze. Jack Harkness. This was the man who had his best friend completely enthralled, so 
much so that he rarely saw him anymore. Had he heard correctly? This guy was handsome, like 
Ianto said, but he was older than Rhys’s friend. And he saw this man flirt his way through the 
café where they met. He was a playboy and shameless. Or so Rhys thought. A nice enough guy, 

but not one to leave alone with your partner. Or apparently, your kind and emotionally sensitive 
best mate. “Jack Harkness?” 
 
“Yeah. I work with Owen at the club.” 
 
Rhys sighed. So it was the same man. The world was a very small place suddenly and not for the 
first time, he wished he stayed in Cardiff. “You’re Ianto’s Jack.” 
 
“You know Ianto?” 
 
“I live with him. He’s my best mate.” 
 
“Wow! Small world.” Rhys grimaced and Jack wondered why his friendly savior was suddenly 
acting a bit cold to him. He remembered the few stories Ianto told about his friend Rhys and they 
were all so positive. Even during their darker times, Rhys seemed to be the one holding Ianto 
together, always there for him. So, why was he put off by Jack suddenly? “Well, thank you 
again, so much. Is there any way I can repay you?” 
 
Rhys bit back the reply that wanted to burst from his mouth. “No, Harkness. It’s just a good 
deed.” 
 
“Come one, let me do something. A drink? Dinner? Let me buy you dinner!” 
 
“Here are your things, sir,” the other man said, bounding over with the clothes. “If you’re all set 
here, I’ll be off.” 
 
“I am and thank you for your help,” Jack said gratefully.  
 
 “Just be more careful next time, yeah? I’m sure your loved ones would appreciate it!” With a 
smile, the man wandered off. 
 
“This is Ianto’s writing,” Rhys noted, staring at the packages. “Ballanger and Homme is 
outfitting you?” 
 
“New job, new clothes. Worked out rather well, since I met Ianto at my work and then invaded 
his and dropped quite a few quid.” 
 
“I heard the story. He’s not going to be happy about this.” 
 
“No, and he’ll be pretty upset that I almost got run over too.” Jack and Rhys both laughed, 
knowing how angry Ianto would be if the precious tailoring were damaged. “Well, I guess I 
better be on my way, get home and assess how much wrath I’ll incur from my boyfriend.” 
 
“I trust I don’t need to give you the whole, ‘Mess with my mate, you mess with me’ speech, do 
I?” 
 

“Rhys, after seeing the lengths you’ll go to help a stranger, I can only imagine what you’d be like 
protecting a friend.” 
 
“Ianto’s more than a friend. Not like that!” he corrected himself, upon seeing Jack’s suspicious 
expression. “We’re just close, very close. For awhile all we had was each other.” 
 
Jack got up on his somewhat unsteady feet and hefted his load into his arms. “Well, you don’t 
need to worry about speeches, Rhys. I’ve heard them all and gone against them a few times. But 
I won’t with Ianto. He’s special.” 
 
“I know that. Just don’t you forget it.” 
 
Jack smiled broadly, his teeth gleaming. “He reminds me with everything he does.”  
 
Rhys nodded, but his expression was still not warm. “Can you make it home on your own?” 
 
“I’m fine. You’ve done enough, Rhys. But I mean it. Let me make it up to you somehow.” 
 
“Nope, no need, Jack. I’d want someone to look out for me. Just watch where you’re going. I 
don’t want to have to tell Ianto his idiot American got squashed.” 
 
“I promise. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see you soon though, yeah?” 
 
“I’m sure you will. Take care.” 
 
Jack watched Rhys walk off down the street. It was only when the man had disappeared from 
sight that Jack continued on to his flat.  
 
 
“Hey, mate. I’ve been waiting for you to – What the fuck happened to you?!” Owen exclaimed 
as Jack entered their flat. Owen jumped up off the bed and took a few of the rumpled bundles 
from Jack’s arms. There was dirt on his face and his green shirt was stained with blood and torn 
in places. 
 
“Had a little accident in the street. Almost got hit by a car.” 
 
“Christ. You’re alright though? Do you need me to check you over?” Owen asked, slipping 
easily into his doctor role. He moved Jack’s head from side to side, trying to find the wound that 
cause the blood on his shirt. 
 
Jack pulled away from his friend. “I’m fine. Someone tackled me to the ground and out of the 
car’s way. My tailoring, unfortunately, was not as lucky as I was.” 
 
“Well, I’m sure your new boy will take care of that. What is wrong with you that you didn’t 
notice a car coming right at you?” 
 

Jack shrugged as he started to unbutton his ruined shirt. He winced as he felt a slight pull on his 
shoulder muscles. “I was just lost in thought. Thank God Rhys was there. Oh, you know him. 
Rhys Williams?” 
 
“The piano tuner?” 
 
“I guess so. I met him on my first day here. He told me where you worked.” 
 
“Yeah, he tunes my piano at the club. Nice bloke. Apparently noble as well, if he risked his neck 
to save yours.” 
 
“He’s also Ianto’s best friend. They live together.” 
 
“Small world.” 
 
“That’s what I said.” As Jack tore off the paper wrappings and hung his belongings alongside 
Owen’s, he remembered what Owen said when he entered. “Why were you waiting for me?” 
 
“Oh! I forgot. Maurice called a little while ago and he wants us to head into the club early 
tonight.” 
 
“Did he say why?” Jack suddenly was a little worried. They couldn’t be getting fired surely? The 
patrons loved them. And he needed the money if he was going to get his own place. 
 
“He wants to talk about expanding our gig! Apparently, a guy that used to play at the club some 
years ago is back and in need of a new pianist. He was pretty excited about having a vocalist too, 
so Maurice set up the meeting! Looks like we might become an official band. “ 
 
“And official band will mean more gigs and more money which means I can move out!” 
 
“You’re moving out?” Owen asked. 
 
“I don’t know how much longer my back can take this floor,” Jack joked.  
 
“You sure the back issues have to do with my floor and not the weight of your art boy on top of 
you?” Owen remarked with derision. 
 
“Be nice, Owen. But, if we’re going to be getting more money, then I might as well have a space 
for all my new clothes.” 
 
“I don’t understand, Jack. You said we’d be going home soon. Just two more weeks, right?” 
 
“I’m just planning ahead, Owen.” 
 
“You haven’t planned ahead since before you came here!” 
 

“What is this? Are you going to miss me that much if I move out of here?” 
 
“It’s like you’re nesting, Harkness. You came here, got a job, a boyfriend, and now you’re 
setting up a home? Who are you?” 
 
“I’m not nesting, Owen. I’m being smart!” Jack did not want a fight, but he refused to allow 
Owen to step in the way of his plan. “What if I’m wrong? What if it takes longer than two 
weeks? What if it’s two months? What then? How long do I wait, Owen? When do I get to live 
my life? I have been stuck waiting for so long, I can’t – I won’t – I need this. Are you so blind by 
your own unhappiness that you don’t get that?” 
 
Owen breathed heavily through his nostrils, giving Jack the impression of a young bull.  Finally, 
after several moments of staring at his Captain and calming himself, he replied, “Okay, Jack. I’m 
not saying I understand this. Back home, you’re a mystery. You come here and you are so 
accepting of everything, eager even. This place, with all its calm and mundane, scares me. This 
isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m a doctor. I work for Torchwood. I gave this up,” Owen 
pointed around the room and out the window, “after Katie died. And you’re making me think 
twice about it and it fucking scares the shit out of me. You keep changing things, Jack. You 
change the rules, the expectations and even the scenery. Are you so blinded by this world, this 
painting, that you don’t get that?” 
 
“I do, Owen. And this world, it’s not a fake. It exists as much as we do. Right now, it’s our 
reality. I’m not going to apologise to you for changing your world; you had a choice and you 
made it. You chose me.” 
 
“I chose Torchwood.” 
 
“If I left Torchwood, would you stay? If I decided to start my own alien hunting business, would 
you come with me?” 
 
“Well, would you have a good benefits package?” Owen asked, sardonically.  
 
“Would you stay?” Jack repeated. 
 
Once again, silence filled the small room. The two men regarded each other, both taking in the 
other beyond the physical. Their unspoken conversation passed between them and Owen 
slumped onto the bed at its conclusion. The displaced colleagues had gone beyond the need to 
verbally answer such a question and they both knew that. 
 
“Are you going to stay in the building?” Owen asked, picking at a scrap of brown paper. 
 
Jack sighed in relief. “If there is a room, I’d like to.” 
 
“The one down the hall’s been vacant for a little while now.” 
 
Jack raised a questioning eyebrow. “You never mentioned that before.” 

 
“No reason to until now. Come on; let’s go find Mrs. Doiron and get you settled. I might get my 
first night of rest in a week.” 
 
“What do you mean? I haven’t been keeping you up?” 
 
“All those late night dreams, with you crying out, ‘Ianto! Ianto. Do me, Ianto!’” Owen chuckled 
as Jack tried smacking him on the head and missed. The pianist ran out the door and down the 
stairs, hearing Jack laugh and chase after him. 
 
“I do not do that, Harper!” 
 
“Not exactly. Your voice gets all girlie and swoony!” 
 
“I do not swoon!” 
 
“‘Oh, Ianto! Your paintings are so powerful!’” Owen exclaimed in a high-pitched tone. 
 
“You are a dead man, Owen!” 
 
Owen just laughed and continued his journey down the winding steps. 
 
 
Meanwhile, the temporary guardians of the painting were waiting patiently for a certain image to 
appear before them. 
 
“How much longer?” Susie asked impatiently. 
 
“Any moment now,” answered Tosh, her eyes never wavering from the fluctuating painting. “Do 
you have the letter?” 
 
Susie gripped the sealed envelope tightly in her right hand, feeling the small marbles inside of it. 
Inside was information regarding their findings so far. On the outside were written the words, 
To: Jack Harkness and Owen Harper.  
 
“Yes, I have it. Do you think this will work?” 
 
“If it doesn’t, we’ve lost nothing. The letter’s too vague to mean anything to anyone but Jack. If 
he receives it, then he’ll know that the Fogniaccztir will be here in two days time. We just have 
to hope that if we drop it into the same picture that Jack and Owen went through, it will land 
nearby. I know it’s a long shot, but I can’t stand the thought of them just waiting around for a 
sign of rescue!” 
 
“I know what you mean. If they do find it, it will give them something to hope for, right?” 
 

“Exactly. We’ll even send another when the Fogniaccztir arrive, just in case. Here it comes! Get 
ready.” The two women watched closely as the image started forming the now familiar 
cityscape. As it neared completion, Tosh cried out, “Now, Susie!” 
 
Susie threw the weighted envelope at the picture and it immediately disappeared from sight. “Do 
you think the marbles are enough weight?” 
 
“Who knows? We don’t know what the atmosphere is like. If it doesn’t burn up, then it should at 
least make it to the ground.” 
 
“Here’s hoping. Maybe luck will be on our side again. Come on. Let’s go see if we have another 
message from Gaetiezzé.” 
 
 
As the women went to continue their work, the letter descended through the clear skies, slowly 
making its was to the infamous gate that neither Jack nor Owen had seen since their arrival. 
 
It landed on path where a swift, warm breeze took in past the brick entrance to the busy square. It 
mingled amongst the legs of tables and patrons, getting kicked and trampled. By the time it 
reached the faithful accordion player on the bench, it was dirty and creased, looking more like a 
piece of debris rather than the important letter that it was.  
 
The player put down his instrument and picked up the envelope. He turned it over and read the 
names on the front. Shrugging at the lack of a proper address, he put slipped into the packet of 
his blazer before picking up his trusty accordion and continued to play. Soon, the magical sounds 
of music and applause drove all thoughts of the lonely letter from his mind. 
  

  
  

        CHAPTER NINE 

 
He was in the moment, completely oblivious to anything and everything around him. All that 
existed was the image in his head, the brush in his hand and the canvas steady on the easel. His 
strokes were firm, sure, as he glided the black paint across the stark white primer, never taking 
his eyes off the work that was taking shape, never blinking, never losing focus. He worked 
quickly and without doubt. Since the idea had struck him, he knew it was right. Not only was it 
right, but it would make him money too. 
 
“Ianto!” called a faraway voice. “Ianto! I’m here!” 
 
The artist ignored the voice. Instead, he switched to a different brush and a different color. 
Orange, but not just any orange. There were hints of red and yellow as well. They swirled 
together, creating a hue of vermillion, persimmon and salmon. It was perfect, just what he 
needed for this first layer. It was the color of the sunset that filtered into his studio on clear nights 
and splashed the far wall with its blush. Yes, that area of the canvas was fiery while the 

foreground would be cooler, shadowed in blue, a blanket over the precious treasure secreted 
there in his studio. 
 
“Hey, Jones, are you going to let me in? I have breakfast!” The voice again called out in a 
singsong way that was so familiar to Ianto. 
 
He shook his head trying not to be drawn into the diversion. He had to work, just finish the layer 
and then he could enter back into the world. But, not yet, not yet.  
 
He watched as the brush glided across the canvas, depositing a smooth streak of paint. He evened 
out the thicker sections before globbing more orange onto the bristles and repeating the action. 
Up and down and up and down. He needed some pink –  
 
“Ianto Jones, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m eating your croissant!” 
 
His stomach growled as it heard the threat, the slight churning finally pulling Ianto from his 
haze. He blinked his blues eyes several times before putting down his brush and wiping his 
hands on a nearby rag. He walked to the door, opened it and grabbed the bags from the visitor’s 
hands. 
 
“What? No good morning kiss?” Jack pouted as he shut the heavy door behind him. Ianto was 
already placing the food onto his made bed. 
 
“You’ll get your kiss after I start the coffee,” Ianto informed his boyfriend. 
 
“Ooh, please do not let me stop you! Off you go!” Jack laughed when Ianto rolled his eyes, but 
still turned to carry out the task. 
 
Slapping his hands together with a resounded bang, Jack set to work unpacking their makeshift 
picnic breakfast. He pulled the duvet off of the bed with a flourish and laid it out neatly on the 
floor. Next, he removed the napkins, paper plates and utensils from one bag and set the “table.” 
The food was placed onto the plates with the 

accoutrements  of  butters  and  jams.  Once  

everything  was  displayed  to  Jack’s  liking,  he  grabbed  the  two  thin  pillows  from  the  
mattress  and  tried  to  fluff  them  up  before  placing  them  by  each  setting.  

  
“Jack, I just made that bed,” Ianto complained with a grin. 

  

  
Jack stood up as Ianto approached him. When he was within reach, the older man grabbed his 
lover and placed a full kiss on waiting lips. “Good morning, Ianto.”

  

  
“Morning, Jack. This all looks quite lovely, but to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  

  
“What? I can’t just surprise my boyfriend, whom I’ve missed seeing these past few days, with 
fresh baked goodies and paper plates?”

  

  

“What’s going on? I may not have known you for long, but I know that ‘innocent’ look of 
yours.”

  

  
Jack placed a hand over his heart and gasped. “Whatever are you talking about, Mr. Jones? Well, 
I never.”

  

  
“Yes, you do, and often.” Ianto silenced the beginnings of Jack’s next mocking protest with a 
peck on his mouth. “Do you want to tell me now or after I get the coffee?”

  

  
“After. Meanwhile, you can tell me why you kept me waiting on your doorstep for so long. I 
hope you aren’t hiding another lover? Normally, I say the more the merrier, but I don’t like the 
idea of anyone else touching you.”

  

  
“No worries, there, cariad. I’m yours alone.” Ianto paused briefly, a bit embarrassed at his 
admission. He cleared his throat and moved on. “I was painting and I didn’t want to break the 
mood.”

  

  
“Ooh, and what mood was that?”

  

  
“It wasn’t sexual, Jack. Well, not exactly sexual, but it was intense. I finally had a brilliant idea 
for my exhibition last night and I had to keep on it.”

  

  
“What exhibition?” Jack asked, immediately feeling Ianto tense by his side. Jack wracked his 
brain, desperately trying to recall if Ianto mentioned this beforehand. He didn’t think so. Usually 
he hung onto Ianto’s every word when he spoke about his paintings; Ianto’s eyes sparkled and he 
bit the edge of his lower lip in the cutest fashion which really turned Jack on. He loved it when 
Ianto talked about his work, even when it was negative. Then his cheeks would redden and his 
powerful, graceful fingers would clench into a fist. But, Jack was certain Ianto never mentioned 
preparing for an exhibition. “Are you doing a show soon?” 

  

  
Ianto nodded, a curl of hair falling onto his forehead. He brushed it away, but it refused to stay 
back. Frustrated, he ran his hand through his slightly unruly locks. “I am in a few weeks 
actually.”

  

  
“You never mentioned this,” Jack commented, wondering why, but not wanting to ask. He hoped 
Ianto would supply the answer.

  

  
“I know. A friend of mine contacted me a few days ago and said a spot opened up unexpectedly 
for an exhibition at his boss’s gallery. He needed to fill it and thought of me. The exhibit is for 
young artists. They want to show the modern view of Parí, show the city through our eyes, so to 
speak. It’s trite, I know, but I couldn’t turn it down. Money is money after all.”

  

  
“And getting your name out there is important too. Is it a prominent gallery?”

  

  
“Up and coming, very modern in its approach. The older, more established groups think it’s 
beneath them, but even they can’t deny the rise of modern art!”

  

  
“I think it’s great, Ianto. Congratulations.” He hugged Ianto to him, squeezed gently and placed a 
kiss on his head. “Do I… get to go or at least see your work?”

  

  
Ianto pulled away from Jack’s embrace quickly, sensing his concern. “Of course you do! Oh 
God, I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It was nothing personal at all. I really 
want you to be there, always did. Shit, I screwed up.”

  

  
“You said it wasn’t personal, so why the secrecy?”

  

  
“Don’t know, really.  I guess I’m still not used to having someone to answer to.”

  

  
“You make it sound like a business relationship,” Jack grumbled, stepping away and walking to 
the wet canvas. 

  

  
“I didn’t – I don’t – Damnit! I just meant that I’m not used to full disclosure. We’re together and 
I should be able to tell you everything. I want to, but sometimes, I just need to keep things to 
myself while I suss them out. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  

  
“Ianto, it’s fine. It’s over with and we’re fine. You weren’t ready to tell me.” His back was rigid 
as he blindly took in the fledging piece of art, his body language clearly telling Ianto that he 
wasn’t fine.

  

  
“I didn’t tell anyone! I only told Homme and Ballanger so I could get time off work to… work.”

  

  
“And this is what you’re working on?” Jack gestured to the black, white and orange canvas in 
front of him. He could barely understand what he was looking at, but he thought it was a wall 
with windows and…. rectangles? 

  

  
“This is the start of the second piece. I have a few pieces from a few months back that I’m going 
to show, but I wanted something brand new too. Then this came to me and I’m really excited 
about it, Jack.”

  

  
“Can you tell me what it is?”

  

  
Ianto stood beside him, letting their shoulders touch. He felt Jack relax slightly with their 
proximity and he was relieved. “It’s going to be a series of three paintings relating to my studio. 
They wanted my view on Parí and what better way to show it than by painting what I see daily?”

  

  
“A series of three?”

  

  
“Mmhm. Each one will be slightly different, different angle, different colors. It’s an evolution. 
Each piece makes sense individually, but together, it’s a story.”

  

  
“And what story are you telling?” Jack looked over at Ianto, intrigued. 

  

  

Ianto returned the gaze, his blue eyes shining in the morning sun. “I can’t tell you. Not until it’s 
completed. Please, don’t ask me to. I just want…”

  

  
“Hey.” Jack placed his hands on Ianto’s cheeks, forcing him to face the slightly taller man. “You 
don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. We’re together, but I don’t want you to 
feel forced into telling me everything. This just threw me a little. You talk about your art so 
much. I’m here all the time! I just didn’t understand why you were keeping this from me.”

  

  
“For no good reason, Jack.”

  

  
“You know I support this, right? You’re so talented, Ianto, and I couldn’t be happier that you’ve 
got this opportunity. I was just being an arse. Forgive me?”

  

  
“Always.” Ianto closed the distance between them and kissed Jack sweetly. “So, can we have 
breakfast and you can tell me what you came over here for in the first place?”

  

  
“Oh! I almost forgot! Yes, go get the coffee and I’ll tell you the good news.”

  

  
While they ate their meal of baguettes and croissants with jam and sipped Ianto’s decadent 
coffee, Jack reminded Ianto about the new band he and Owen played with a few nights 
previously. Not that Ianto would forget; it was the night he’d heard about Jack almost getting hit 
by the car. After scolding him, Ianto had practically dragged him down the streets of the Left 
Bank to his studio where he surprised Jack with bout after bout of passionate, rough sex that left 
him deliciously sated and aching in the morning. 

  

  
“We heard from them last night and they definitely want to make it a permanent thing!”

  

  
“That’s great, Jack! So, what does it mean exactly?”

  

  
“More sets, maybe more gigs outside of the club and more money. That’s the other good news. I 
moved out of Owen’s room.”

  

  
“Really? Owen’s okay with that?”

  

  
Jack grinned. Ianto’s perceptions of other people amazed him. The young artist barely knew the 
pianist, but he could tell how such a change might not be as exciting for Owen.

  

  
“He is. I only moved down the hall, so I’m still nearby. But, now, you and I have options as to 
where we want to spend the night!”

  

  
“Have you actually moved in or is your stuff just haphazardly tossed onto every surface?”

  

  
“Well, it’s not like I have many surfaces, just the bed, the side table and the top of the dresser.”

  

  

Ianto licked the jam from his thumb and chewed the skin slightly in contemplation. “I’m 
guessing that if I have any hope of seeing your new home in any sorted state, I’m going to have 
to help you, aren’t I?”

  

  
Jack’s smile glistened brighter than the sunlight. “I was hoping you’d offer! Actually, I was 
wondering if you wanted to do a bit of shopping with me today? I need bed linens.” Jack 
managed to creep every ounce of innuendo he could into those words, which was a feat. 

  

  
Ianto again rolled his eyes at his insatiable lover.  “Very well. I suppose I should get a say since 
you’ll want to christen them as soon as I’m washed them.”

  

  
“You know me so well!” Jack licked a stray trickle of raspberry jam from the corner of Ianto’s 
mouth. Ianto turned and caught the retreating lips, sucking on the sweet tongue within. Jack 
moaned and rose to his knees to deepen their kiss. Ianto grasped onto Jack’s arms and pulled him 
across the discarded breakfast supplies and on top of his body. There was a clattering sound as 
the coffee cups were jostled and knocked to the wooden floor, but neither man cared. They 
continued to taste each other, Ianto’s raspberry flavored baguette and Jack’s buttery croissants. 

  

  
“We should stop,” Jack said, moving his hips away from Ianto’s. 
 
“What?!” Ianto asked in disbelief. He looked from the bulge in his jeans to Jack’s own erection 
and then to his handsome face. “You want to stop?” 
 
“Want? No. Should? Yes. We’re going shopping and you don’t have a shower here as we are 
both very well aware.” 
 
“You can shower at my place. Use all the hot water. I don’t care. Just get back here.” Ianto 
wrapped his arms around Jack’s chest and brought their bodies together once more. He 
immediately wrapped his longs legs around his waist, effectively trapping Jack and their arousals 
together.  
 
“Fuck, Ianto.” Jack groaned, his body automatically seeking delicious friction. 
 
“Let me thank you for breakfast and then we’ll go shopping.” 
 
“And showering?” 
 
“Sod the shower, just fuck me already!” Ianto cried out.  
 
“Always.” Jack fused his mouth over Ianto’s and sped up his movements. He didn’t need telling 
twice. 
 
 
 
Later; or specifically two shags in two different places later, Ianto found himself at a table with 
Rhys at the Bleu Allée. Owen and Jack were onstage performing with the new members of their 

band. They hadn’t decided on a name for the new group yet, but Jack said, to anyone who would 
listen, that he thought The Jack Harkness Experience was catchy. Ianto vetoed it, saying he was 
the only one who was entitled to that particular experience. Jack had laughed, kissed his 
boyfriend and agreed whole-heartedly. Despite not having an official title, the audience 
responded positively to their regular performers and the new, fuller sound they created with the 
additions of drums, bass and trumpet. Even Rhys was smiling away, tapping his fingers on the 
tabletop in time to the music.  
 
Ianto was so glad Rhys had agreed to join him that evening. He didn’t mind going to watch Jack 
alone, but he really wanted Rhys to get to know his boyfriend. Jack wasn’t going anywhere soon, 
not if Ianto had a say in the matter, so he desperately needed his best mate and his lover to be 
friendly with each other. He was forever grateful to Rhys for saving Jack’s life; he didn’t dare 
think about what his life would be like without his boyfriend in it. And Rhys knew how 
important Jack was to Ianto as well. Ianto smiled to himself. He was a lucky man. He had 
friends, an exhibition to look forward to, and a man that he adored and who adored him as well. 
 
Ianto blushed. If he ever had doubts about how Jack felt about him, all he had to do was be in his 
line of sight while the singer was performing. Jack always looked to him for a smile or wink 
throughout his set and made sure certain phrases were directed straight to him. Ianto quickly got 
over his embarrassment; Jack meant well by it, just showing him in his own way that he was 
happy the other man was there. Ianto was just one of many sitting in the dimly lit club, but the 
only person Jack cared to see. 
 
Currently, he was singing Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine.” He was clearly enjoying the 
additional instruments, his hips swaying to the beat, his ready smile beaming out over the crowd.  
 
Oh yes let them begin the beguine  
Make them play 
Till the stars that were there before  
Return above you   
 
“Your man is a bit of a showoff,” Rhys mused, as Jack started to do a little fancy footwork on 
stage, much to the delight of the patrons. 
 
“Only a bit?” Ianto asked, clearly amused by Rhys’s statement. “When you’re that good, you 
might as well play it up for the crowd.” 
 
“It doesn’t bother you, then? That all these people are looking at him? That he is constantly 
flirting with everyone up there?” 
 
“It’s just flirting, Rhys, and it’s just part of the job.” 
 
“I’m sure there are plenty of people that would like to take it beyond flirting, mate.” 
 
“Well, that’s their problem isn’t it? He’s taken.” 
 

“He doesn’t act taken, Ianto.” 
 
“Rhys, please. Don’t try to make me doubt him. It won’t work. I know Jack. He cares about me 
and I trust him. He won’t betray my trust as I would never betray his.” 
 
“As long as you’re sure, mate. You know I only want what’s best for you.” 
 
“I do know that, and I thank you for it, but I’m all set. However, I think it’s time we found 
someone for you.” Ianto sat up in his seat and took a look at the people around him. “There are 
several good possibilities. Oh! There’s that girl again!” 
 
Rhys turned to see whom Ianto had recognised. “What girl?” 
 
“That pretty one at the bar with the big eyes and the black fringe. She’s here a lot. I’ve seen her 
talking to Owen once or twice.” 
 
“They an item?” 
 
“The little I know of Owen, I’d say no. He doesn’t seem like the kind of bloke to settle down, let 
alone with a girl like that. I think she’d figure him out too easily.” 
 
“You never know. Owen might like that.” 
 
Ianto shrugged. “Possibly. But, in case not, he could introduce you to her. What do you think?” 
 
Rhys looked back at woman. She was definitely Rhys’s type of girl, petite, cute, stylish but not 
too showy. She was staring intently at the stage, or more accurately, at Jack. Her full lips were 
smiling as he held out a rather long note and started clapping with the rest of the audience at its 
conclusion. She was clearly smitten with the American, at least physically. He wondered, if 
Owen knew her, did Jack as well?  
 
“Maybe we’ll ask Owen when they’re all done.” 
 
Ianto leaned back and returned his attention to the stage. Perhaps this evening would be the start 
of something for Rhys. Ianto was pulled from his musings by the sound of his boyfriend 
speaking to the audience.  
 
“Thanks, everyone. As you’ve noticed, Owen and I have a few more friends up here with us 
tonight. We’re happy to say this is a permanent thing!” The audience applauded enthusiastically. 
“We’ve got one more song before we take a break and try figure out what to call ourselves. 
Owen calls this next one a ‘stalker song.’ But, as my boyfriend can tell you, there’s nothing 
wrong with a bit of stalking!” A people murmured at that. “I should clarify. I stalked him. He 
didn’t stalk me! He’s going to kill me for this. Sorry, Ianto. Seriously, folks, I can see him 
blushing from here!” It was true; Ianto’s flushed cheeks shone through to the stage. Luckily, his 
eyes were full of mirth. “Alright, let’s just sing the song, a bit of Judy Garland please! One, two, 
three, four.” 

 
The percussionist started tapping out a fast, catchy rhythm that Ianto did not recognise. However, 
as soon as Jack started to sing, he understood what Owen meant by “stalker song.” 
 
I’m gonna love you 
Like nobody’s loved you 
Come rain or come shine 
High as a mountain 
Deep as a river 
Come rain or come shine 
 
Ianto laughed a little and Rhys looked at him confused. “It does sound a bit…forceful, don’t you 
think?” 
 
“I suppose so,” Rhys agreed, obviously trying to listen more closely to the lyrics.  
 
 
Once the song was over, the band left the stage and headed to the bar for drinks. Ianto watched 
as both Owen and Jack were stopped by the cute brunette with the big eyes. 
 
“See? I told you they knew here.” Ianto caught Jack’s eye and nodded towards their table. Jack 
dutifully jogged over and placed his glass down beside Ianto’s half empty pint. 
 
“Hello there, handsome!” he greeted, dropping a sweet kiss onto Ianto’s lips.  He then stuck out 
his hand to the other man at the table. “Rhys, good to see you.” 
 
Rhys shook it. “Hey there, Jack. Nice set.” 
 
“Yeah, it sounded great, Jack. I like the new additions.” 
 
“I love having them there! Think of all the songs we can sing now that we have three more 
instruments!” Jack said as he plopped down beside Ianto and took his hand. 
 
“More ‘stalker songs’ up your sleeve?” Rhys asked with a smirk. 
 
“Ha! I’m sure there are plenty of them out there waiting for the Harkness treatment. Oh, hey 
that’s not a bad name for the – ” 
 
“No, Jack, it is,” Ianto interrupted. “If you’re going to name the band, best stay away from 
anything that has just your name in it, cariad.” 
 
“When you’re right, you’re right, Mr. Jones.” 
 
“And I’m always right. Did you want to invite Owen and his friend over?”  
 

“Friend? Oh, you mean Gwen! Sure, if you like. You’ll like her; she from Wales.” Jack stood up 
and went to get his friends. 
 
“Well, look at that. Things are looking up for you, Williams.” 
 
“Just because she’s Welsh doesn’t mean she’ll only date Welshmen, Ianto,” Rhys reminded him. 
 
“True, but remember what Jack has learned, which you learned ages ago, is that I’m always 
right.”    
 
Before Rhys could retort, Jack was at the table and making introductions.  
 
“Gwen, this is my boyfriend, Ianto Jones, and his best mate, Rhys Williams.” 
 
“Nice to meet you, Gwen. Jack said you’re from Wales?” 
 
Gwen looked at Ianto, eyeing him up and down as she answered him. “Yes, I am. But I’ve been 
away from a while now, traveling.” Having taken in all that Ianto was on the surface, she focused 
on his friend. He was rather attractive in a rugby player sort of way. Not nearly as good looking 
as Jack, but as he had stated to the entire club, he was with Ianto. And while it was still a sore 
spot for Gwen, she had to admit that this Ianto was handsome and looked good with Jack. “So, 
you both live here, then?” 
 
“Sure do!” Rhys said. “A few years now, actually. Originally from Newport, then Cardiff.” Rhys 
smiled at the woman. She was so pretty! There was just something about her that he liked. 
Maybe it was the freckles or the way she looked at him with genuine interest. Usually, Ianto 
attracted all the attention and Rhys had to work a little harder to get any. Then again, Ianto was 
taken by the most handsome man at the table. Still, Rhys worked with what he was given.  
 
“Oh, I love Cardiff!” Gwen exclaimed. This was the start of a long conversation between Gwen 
and Rhys, each trading tales from back home.  
 
On the other side of Jack, Owen breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, thank God for that!” 
 
“For what?” Ianto wanted to know. 
 
Owen indicated the newly introduced pair with a tip of his head. “That. Maybe this will keep her 
out of my hair.” 
 
“Were you two together?” 
 
“Cor, no! I mean, we’ve shagged a few times, but it was nothing serious. Frankly, I was getting 
bored of her. If Rhys wants her, he can have her.” 
 
“Gwen’s not a thing, Owen,” Jack chastised. “Show some respect.” 
 

“Fine. If Rhys would like to have a go with her, then I am more than happy to step aside and let 
it happen. Is that better?” 
 
“Moderately,” Ianto commented. 
 
“Hey, art boy, just be glad she’s no longer after Jack like a bitch in heat,” he hissed. 
 
“Owen!” Jack yelled, drawing attention from the others.  
 
“What did I do now?” Owen threw his hands up in the air and leaned back in his chair.  
 
“Don’t worry about it, Jack,” Ianto assured him. He placed a hand on Jack’s arm and squeezed. 
Jack tore his venomous gaze away from his close friend and focused on the gorgeous man beside 
him. “So, what are your plans for next week?” 
 
“Well, I’ve got a lot of painting to do for the exhibition. But, I suppose I could fit you in if you 
want.” 
 
“I always fit in,” Jack said with a sly smile before devouring Ianto in a kiss. 
 
“Ugh!” Owen whined at the amorous sight. “I’m going backstage. You’ve got five minutes, 
Romeo.” Owen got up and left, unhindered by the two couples.  
 
Ianto pulled away from Jack when he heard a few mutterings at nearby tables. “Jack, people are 
staring.” 
 
“They’re just jealous they don’t have you.” Jack leaned in for another kiss, but Ianto pushed him 
back into his seat. Jack batted his sad blue eyes and pouted. “But, Ianto!” 
 
“Save it for tonight, you big baby.” 
 
“You still staying over then?” 
 
Ianto nodded his affirmation. “But, tomorrow I really do need to work, sorry.” 
 
“Don’t be sorry. If you have to, then you have to. Just don’t expect me to stay away for too 
long!” 
 
“Hey, Jack!” 
 
Jack turned to see one of the waitresses at his elbow. “What’s up?” 
 
The young woman held out her hand to him. “Someone dropped this off a little while ago. It has 
yours and Owen’s name on it.” 
 

Jack looked down at the envelope in her hand. It was wrinkled and looked like several people 
stepped on it, but that wasn’t the strangest thing about it. “Thanks,” he said, taking it from her.” 
He opened it, trying to quash the urge to tear into it quickly. There was just no way! 
 
As he read the brief letter though, he realised his first instincts were correct. It was written by 
Susie’s hand. They were coming for him and Owen. In two days, which meant two weeks for 
him. He felt his blood go cold and his stomach dropped to his feet. 
 
“Jack? Cariad? What is it? Is something wrong?” 
 
Jack looked at his boyfriend’s concerned face. He swallowed and refolded the letter. 
“Everything’s fine, Ianto. Just a bit of sad news from home. A… friend wrote to tell us one of 
our friends is ill.” 
 
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Is it bad?” 
 
“I hope not.” Shoving the letter into his pocket, Jack pulled Ianto into another kiss, one not so 
playful as before. Ianto let him and returned it, knowing that his lover needed some comfort. 
 
Jack rested his forehead against Ianto’s and inhaled the light scent of his shampoo and 
aftershave. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I am so glad I found you,” he whispered. 
 
Ianto’s heart sped up at the sincerity of Jack’s tone. “Me too.” He brushed his lips against Jack’s 
cheek before moving away. “You need to get back up onstage.” 
 
Jack noticed the other members of his band checking their instruments, getting ready. His 
shoulders slumped; he was in no mood to sing anymore. All he wanted to do was take Ianto’s 
hand and run. “You’ll be here?” 
 
“Not going anywhere.” 
 
“Promise?” 
 
“I promise.” 
 
 
The second half of the set went by without incident. Jack put on his fake, flashy smile and 
everyone fell in love with him all over again. No one saw the upset, no one but Ianto, though he 
didn’t understand the extent to the problem. As Jack sang and the band played, his mind kept 
wandering to the letter in his trouser pocket. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t tell Owen. 
There was still a chance that Susie and Tosh’s predictions were off. Two days could be longer, 
but Jack knew Owen would spend the rest of the time just preparing to leave. Jack didn’t want to 
leave, not yet, not without Ianto. But, could he reveal the truth to him? Would Ianto accept him, 
leave with him? Jack didn’t know. And he wasn’t going to risk it either. For the time being, no 
one was going to know about the letter. If Jack only had two weeks left with Ianto before he was 
faced with making a decision, then it was going to be the best two weeks he could make them.  

  
  

  
         

CHAPTER TEN

 

 

Jack had never known time to fly so quickly Well, that wasn’t true. Time always flew when he 
wanted it to slow down. The few relationships he’d had before Ianto always ended too soon. It 
wasn’t fair. Two weeks, three all together, less than a month with Ianto. Well, Jack couldn’t say 
they had wasted the time they were given. Whenever Ianto wasn’t painting, which wasn’t as 
often as Jack wanted, the couple was running all over town, eating, drinking, seeing the sights. 
They rented bikes one day and rode up and down narrow cobble stone streets, pausing to take 
pictures of the buildings and of each other.  
 
When they tired of being outdoors, they spent time at Jack’s place or at the studio, talking and 
making love. Jack sang songs just for Ianto and Ianto used Jack’s flawless skin as his own 
canvas, painting a myriad of colors on him. Jack loved feeling the bristles and the cool liquid run 
along his body. Jack insisted on pictures of everything and he made sure they developed them 
immediately, wanting to have concrete proof of Ianto’s existence when he left. Ianto questioned 
it a few times, but Jack just said he always wanted to remember the little moments as much as 
the big ones.  
 
Jack knew he was falling in love and he knew it was going to hurt so much when he looked back 
on those pictures years in the future, but he needed them so much. He never wanted to forget the 
look of Ianto’s face as he slept beside him or the way the morning sun bounced off of his pale, 
naked body, or the look in his eye when he wanted to rip the camera from Jack’s hands and 
throw it into the Seine.  
 
So, as he stood outside Ianto’s studio door, his hand poised to knock, Jack wanted to cry. He 
didn’t do it often, definitely not in front of people if he could help it, but all he could think about 
was that there was a strong possibility that he would never be this happy again. He was one day 
away from Tosh and Susie’s target date and it was going to be a busy one. It was the morning of 
Ianto’s exhibition and Jack was excited to see the final piece of Ianto’s series of three. He knew 
Ianto was really nervous about showing him the work, but it was probably just as amazing as the 
previous two. 
 
He rapped his knuckles on the thick wooden door and waited for Ianto to call out to him. 
 
“Wait! Wait! Not yet!” he heard Ianto yell. 
 
Jack chuckled. In reality, Ianto had finished the painting days ago, so he didn’t know what he 
was supposed to be waiting for. But, he did so, patiently, thinking about the frazzled young artist 
inside, who was probably running around ragged, getting everything he needed to transport his 
pieces to the gallery. 
 
“Ianto, we need to get going,” Jack reminded him. “Your work needs to be there before ten!” 
 

“I know. I know. I’m coming. I’m coming.” 
 
“No fair coming when I can’t see you do it!” Jack laughed. 
 
Ianto flung open the door, red faced. “Not funny, Jack.” 
 
“I thought it was. Good morning, Ianto.” Jack caressed Ianto’s smooth cheek before pressing a 
kiss to his lips. “Did you make coffee?” he asked hopefully. 
 
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Of course. Can’t expect you to help without having coffee to bribe you 
with.” 
 
“That’s not true. I am fully ready to take sexual bribes!” 
 
“I’ll remember that for next time. But right now, you get coffee. I’ll get it and don’t touch that 
sheet!” 
 
Jack turned to the left and saw a sheet covering Ianto’s easel. That must be it, the final piece. He 
wondered what it was. Ianto said it told a story, but Jack had to keep asking for explanations. 
The first one was a simple piece, mostly jabs of color that combined to make a scene. It showed 
the view from Ianto’s doorway, only part of the studio in view, the windows and the gallery wall. 
Ianto called it, strangely, What I Found. The second piece was more realistic looking, except the 
colors were extremely bold, everything looking fresh and vibrant. The point of view was from 
the left corner of the studio. The easel was seen with a partially begun work on it, and other 
miniature versions of Ianto’s work were scattered around the floor. The buildings through the 
windows were the vivid hues of the early morning. He called it, Completely New. 
 
Oh, how Jack wanted to lift up the sheet and see the next part. It was killing him! Ianto spent 
more time on this last installment than on the others, but would not let Jack anywhere near it 
when he came over. He could tell it meant something to Ianto, sharing his studio with the world, 
sharing his points of view of his personal space, one of a colorful mess, one of sharper relief, and 
the last one… 
 
“Ianto!” he called out. “Come on! I want to see it!”  
 
Jack was jumping up and down by the time Ianto emerged from behind the beaded curtain with 
two cups of coffee. “Alright. Alright. Here, take these and I’ll remove the sheet.” 
 
Ianto offered the cups to Jack and grabbed the edge of the sheet. He paused. Jack noticed the 
telltale signs of insecurity building up in the artist. “Ianto, I’m going to love it, you know that. 
Everyone there tonight is going to love it.” 
 
“I don’t really care if they do or not. Well, it’d be nice if they did, but this piece… I’ll just show 
you.” Ianto carefully removed the white sheet from the canvas and stepped away so Jack could 
see the full image. 
 

Jack gasped and for the first time in a few years, he couldn’t think of anything to say. The 
painting, like the others, showed the studio, but as viewed from the right side. In the background 
were the windows and the canvases, all covered in brilliant shades of orange. The easel stood 
proudly on one side, but on it was a piece of white paper with black lines across it. There was 
another one on the table that held Ianto’s paints and brushes. More were on the floor leading to 
the foreground, which showed Ianto’s old mattress, messy duvet and Jack asleep. He was lying 
on his stomach with his face turned on the side, lips slightly part. The duvet was bunched around 
his waist, showing his naked back. Dangling from his loose fingers was another piece of paper, 
which was clearly sheet music. The area surrounding Jack and the bed were painted in blues, a 
shadow as the daylight crept into the studio. The piece managed to be both realistic and 
expressionist at once, the colors bold, the depiction of Jack completely accurate. 
 
“…Ianto?” Jack turned to his boyfriend, whose gaze remained on the painting.  
 
“So, this is it. This is the last one.” 
 
“What did you call it?” 
 
Ianto swallowed. “I wrote it on the back.” 
 
Jack walked around to the back of the painting and read the words Ianto had put there. He 
breathed in slowly and read them a few times before looking up and meeting Ianto’s eyes. They 
were bright and shining with something that looked like hope.  
 
“What do you think?” he asked Jack. “Should I change it?” 
 
“No,” said Jack immediately. “No, it’s perfect.” Jack smiled and bit his lips. “It’s perfect, Ianto.” 
 
Jack had never seen Ianto look quite so happy before. He smiled widely, his shoulders relaxed 
and his eyes! All that hope now radiated out as excitement and relief. “I’m glad. I’m so glad, 
Jack.” 
 
Jack nodded and looked at the title once more. When Love Walked In. Jack walked back to 
Ianto’s side and pulled him into his arms. Ianto wrapped himself around his lover and buried his 
face in the crook of his neck. “You’re amazing, you know that, Ianto Jones?” 
 
“You may have mentioned it,” Ianto said, his voice slightly muffled by Jack’s shirt.  
 
“Well, it deserves saying more than once.” They stayed in each other’s arms for several silent 
minutes, just breathing each other in, brushing lips to whatever skin was exposed. And Jack had 
to try not to cry as he whispered, “I love you,” against Ianto’s mouth before losing himself in 
their kiss.    
 
 
Several hours later, Jack was standing beside Ianto, both of them dressed smartly in suits, though 
Jack had opted out of the waistcoat and tie. He still looked very dashing in his Ballanger and 

Homme black, summer wool suit with aqua shirt and pocket square which Ianto folded for him. 
Ianto, in a full three-piece dark grey, tone on tone pin stripe, looked handsome in a shirt a deep 
shade of pink. The two were quite striking together, sipping their champagne and making small 
talk with everyone who came up to them. Except for a few times when the curator of the gallery 
or Ianto’s friend needed to make important introductions, neither man strayed far from the other. 
Rhys and Gwen, his date for the evening, were enjoying the evening, popping over a few times 
to see how the two men were doing. Gwen even tried, in her own way, to steal Jack’s attention, 
asking for his opinion about a certain group of pieces but to no avail. Perhaps it was nerves, or 
that they had only recently confessed their love for each other, but Ianto and Jack instinctively 
knew that they did not want to be parted for any great length of time. 
 
After the exhibition was unveiled, staying together became difficult. Everyone wanted to talk to 
the new artists, discuss inspirations, influences, and purchase prices. Several offers were made 
on Ianto’s work, but he refused to sell the third part of his Studio series. When people finally put 
together the handsome gentleman on his arm with the sleeping form in the painting, they 
understood… and raised their offer. Ianto held firm though. One woman was persistent and 
finally Ianto agreed to sell the first two to her and took a commission to replicate the third one. 
 
“I can’t believe it, Jack! Do you see this?” Ianto waved the check in his boyfriend’s face. “All 
this! Even minus the gallery’s percentage, this is amazing!” In an uncharacteristic display, Ianto 
jumped into Jack’s arms and gave a whoop of excitement. “This is what I’ve wanted for so long, 
Jack. Finally. Finally! I have everything.” 
 
“This is only the beginning for you, Ianto. Soon, everyone will know who you are and want your 
work to grace their walls.” 
 
“It’s not just the paintings, Jack, it’s everything. I have you as well. I’m selling my work, People 
love it and I love you so much!”  
 
“I love you too, Ianto.” 
 
“This night couldn’t possibly be any more wonderful.”   
 
Jack quickly snagged two flutes of champagne off a passing tray. “Why don’t we get some air?” 
 
Ianto smiled and grabbed a glass from Jack. “There’s a little patio out the back. Shall we?” 
 
The two made their way to the tiny area where a few other people were congregating as well. 
Ianto nodded his head as he passed a few acquaintances, wanting to just spend a minute or two 
alone with Jack in his arms and have nothing in the world touch them. They found a spot under a 
tall thin tree on the edge of the stone covered area.  
 
“A toast!” Jack proclaimed, raising his glass towards Ianto’s. “To you, Ianto Jones, 
accomplished and talented artist, supreme lover and the man I can’t do without.” Jack smiled at 
Ianto’s blush. He meant every word he said; he had no idea how he was going to cope without 
Ianto. He prayed every second that passed that he wouldn’t have to leave tomorrow, that 

something would happen and he would never have to be away from Ianto. “I love you.” He 
laughed. He hadn’t said those words in so many years and now he truly meant them right down 
to the core of his being. It was ridiculous how giddy Jack felt each time he said it, or even 
thought it. He clinked their glasses together and was about to take a sip when Ianto stopped him. 
 
“To you, Jack Harkness, gorgeous, sexy singer extraordinaire, goofball, the most imaginative 
lover I’ve ever known and the man who has turned my world around in such a short time, yet I 
can barely recall what it was like before you came along. And I have no reason to try to 
anymore. You are my future, Jack; I know it. It may be a whirlwind romance, but that doesn’t 
mean it won’t last. Now, we can drink.”  
 
They gulped down their bubbly and placed the glasses on a nearby table. Jack gathered Ianto in 
his arms and led him in a slow dance. 
 
“Is this just swaying, Mr. Harkness?” Ianto joked, remembering the first time Jack came into his 
shop three weeks ago. 
 
“No, we’re definitely dancing, Mr. Jones.” 
 
“Will you be providing the music?” Ianto asked, resting his head against Jack’s, his lips brushing 
Jack’s ear. 
 
Jack sighed. “If you insist.” He knew what song he wanted to sing. It was perfect for them, 
perfect for that moment. “It’s very clear our love – ”  
 
“Jack!” 
 
Jack and Ianto pulled away from each other slightly as they turned towards the raised voice. 
There was no mistaking that accent and Jack felt as if the ground beneath his feet was giving 
way. His knees buckled slightly when he saw a very disheveled Owen running towards him, not 
noticing the stares of disapproval from the other guests as he pushed past them. Jack squeezed 
Ianto’s arm and felt his entire body tense. And he knew. And for once, but the second time that 
day, he didn’t try to fight the tears that were forming in his eyes.  
 
Before a word passed Owen’s lips, Jack was shaking his head. “No, no, no, not yet.” 
 
Owen frowned and his eyes widened as the penny dropped. “You knew! You’ve known all 
along, haven’t you?” 
 
“Known what, Owen?” Ianto demanded. He didn’t know what was happening, but whatever it 
was, Jack was getting extremely upset. He noticed, thankfully, that the other guests on the patio 
had moved inside to give the three men some privacy. “Jack, cariad, what’s wrong? Tell me.” 
 
Jack looked into Ianto’s concerned face, but he couldn’t find the words. He turned back to Owen 
and continued to beg, knowing nothing could be done. “It’s too soon,” he pleaded. “I thought – 
tomorrow! I thought I had until tomorrow.” 

 
Owen was livid. Somehow, Jack knew why he was there, knew that they had finally been 
rescued. He couldn’t bring himself to yell at him though. Jack rarely got emotional in front of 
him back home, unless it was to yell. That just wasn’t the way Jack operated. Now Owen 
wondered if, for the first time, he was seeing the real Jack Harkness and not the swaggering hero 
he appeared to be. “Jack, we’ve got to move. There isn’t much time. I’ll – I’ll give you a minute, 
but only a minute.” Owen was about to walk away, but stopped to face Ianto. He saw a confused 
young man who was about to get his heart smashed. He cursed Jack for doing this. He cursed 
himself for not warning Ianto off the way he had warned off Gwen. And he cursed Ianto for 
getting caught in the middle. But he looked him square in the eye as he said, “I’m sorry, mate. 
You won’t believe it, but I am actually sorry.” 
 
“Sorry for what? Owen?” But Owen left, closing the doors to the patio as he did. “Jack, please 
talk to me; you’re scaring me. What is happening?” 
 
Jack sniffed and scrubbed his hand over his face. He blinked back the salty tears that stung his 
eyes and tried to control his breathing. Ianto wrenched his boyfriend’s hands away from his face 
and pulled him close. “Talk to me. Please, make me understand. Whatever this is, we’ll get 
through it together.” 
 
“We won’t. We can’t.” Jack looked at the man he loved, his swollen, red eyes blinking furiously. 
“We have to go.” 
 
“Where are we going?” 
 
“Owen and I. I have to go.” 
 
“Jack, stop playing. Where are you going?” 
 
“Home.” 
 
“Home? To Cardiff? To America? Why?” 
 
“Ianto, please stop. I can’t – I – I thought… I’m not from here, Ianto. I’m from another world.” 
 
Ianto just stared at him, confusion and hurt marring his handsome features. His brows knitted 
together and his lips were parted. He tried to say something several times, but the words didn’t 
form. Finally, he stepped away from Jack, feeling the cool night air fill the space between them. 
“You’re from another world? What does that mean, Jack? What world are you from exactly?” 
 
Jack ignored the sarcasm in the question and answered honestly. “I’m from the future, the 51

st

 

century, but not even this world’s 51

st

 century.” 

 
“Of course not, because that would make sense. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you 
lying to me? You say you love me – ” 
 

“I do, Ianto, I do love you.” 
 
“Then why does it sound like you’re trying to scare me off? Do you want me to leave you?” 
 
“No! I – ” 
 
“Do you want to leave me?” 
 
“If I had my way, I’d never be away from you for even a day. But, I don’t get to have my way, 
Ianto.” 
 
“I don’t understand.” Ianto placed his hand on the smooth bark of the tree for support. He knew 
he was crying, could feel the wetness stream down his face and into his collar. If he had the time 
to care, he would have taken out his handkerchief, but instead he rubbed his nose with the back 
of his hand. 
 
“I know you don’t. I don’t know how to make you, either. This world… I got here through a 
portal, a gateway really, that connected my world to yours. You won’t believe me, but in my 
world, aliens exist. Time travel, witches, it’s all real. Owen fell in and I followed him. Now, my 
team is here to rescue us.” 
 
“Yes, because we artists and boyfriends are so dangerous,” Ianto commented, spitefully. “Say I 
believe you, which I’m not sure I do, but if this is true, then why don’t you stay? Is there… is 
there something you need to return for?” 
 
“I have a job to do. My team and I, we protect the planet. They won’t be prepared without me 
there.” 
 
“So, you’re not a nightclub singer then? Wow, you fooled me good, Jack. Is your name even 
Jack? Forget it! I don’t care. You’d probably just lie about it anyway.” 
 
“Please, Ianto, I’m begging you. If this is the last time I ever see you, ever speak to you, please-” 
 
“Please what? Don’t be angry? You’re leaving me! I’m not going to pretend to be happy about 
this. God, after everything I said, everything I did. That painting! Were you laughing this 
morning when I showed it to you? Just playing along, biding your time until your rescuers 
arrived? I’m such a fool.” 
 
“You are not a fool! I am! I convinced myself that I could do this, that I could have happiness, 
that it would all work out somehow. Just once. Just once…”  
 
The two didn’t say anything for some time. Ianto leaned into the tree and faced away from the 
man who was breaking his heart and Jack held himself tightly and stared at his polished shoes, 
watching as his tears fell onto the toes and dribbled to the ground. The silence stretched on and 
on, broken only by the occasional laugh from inside, reminding them both that this was supposed 
to be a night of celebration.  

 
A small click disrupted them as one of the doors opened. “Jack?” It was Owen. Time was up. 
 
Jack looked over to him then nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping and his face turning back to 
the ground as he walked over to his friend. 
 
“Wait!” Ianto called out, springing away from the tree. He threw his arms around Jack and cried 
anew into his shoulder. “Please, don’t go. Or let me come with you.” 
 
Jack crushed Ianto to him and breathed in his scent. “You can’t,” he whimpered. 
 
“Why not?” 
 
“You live here. You belong here. We – we can’t.” Jack bit back a sob and cleared his throat. 
Placing his lips near Ianto’s ear, he began to sing softly, his voice tight and thick sounding.  
 
The way you wear your hat 
The way you sip your tea 
The memory of all that 
 
“Don’t. Don’t, Jack, please. Please, just don’t go.” 
 
Jack took Ianto’s face in his hands, his thumbs catching the tears that spilled. Looking into those 
blue eyes for the last time, with all the love he felt, he finished. 
 
No, they can’t take that away from me 
 
Jack kissed Ianto quickly before running off the patio and out to the street. Owen followed 
quickly, leaving Ianto standing there, sobbing and biting his lips to stop from crying out. 
 
“Ianto? Oh my God, Ianto!”  
 
There in the doorway was Rhys, Gwen standing just behind his shoulder. Rhys ran to Ianto’s side 
and grabbed him by the shoulders. “What happened? Where are Jack and Owen?” 
 
Ianto used Rhys, his best mate, as an anchor, calmly drawing breath and feeling the Earth right 
itself. He rubbed his sore eyes and retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket. The check for his 
studio pieces came out with it and fluttered to the ground. Ianto stared at it, a rather tawdry 
memento of his all too brief moment of complete happiness. Hadn’t he said he had it all, just a 
few moments ago? Now, all he wanted was this not to be happening, not to be feeling like the 
best thing that ever came into his life just ran down the street towards… he didn’t even know 
what! But, he was gone. Jack was gone. And Ianto knew a huge part of himself left with him.  
 
 
“Jack! Wait! Slow down for Christ’s sake!” 
 

Jack stopped short in the middle of the street and started to laugh, an empty, humourless laugh. 
“Wait! Wait? You’re the one who is in such a hurry to get out of here.” 
 
Owen huffed and puffed as he caught his breath. “Jack, I know you’re upset.” 
 
“You have no idea, Owen Harper! You have no idea what happened today! But, you know what? 
It doesn’t matter anymore because you get to go home.” 
 
“Shut yer mouth, Harkness. It does matter and I do care whether you think so or not. I am sorry 
about Ianto. I know he meant something to you.” 
 
“Yeah, something,” Jack spat out the word. “He was more than ‘something,’ Owen.” 
 
“I know.” Owen placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. It was removed quickly as the two men 
started to walk towards their building. 
 
“So, what happened? How’d you find out?” 
 
“Didn’t. I was hanging out by the square when I noticed someone who didn’t seem to fit in.” 
 
“An alien?” 
 
“Yep and he seemed to notice me as soon as I saw him. He called me by name too.” 
 
“Gaetiezzé?” 
 
“No, his consort, A Meliank. He had a letter from Susie and Tosh, saying they were both fine 
and that they are looking forward to seeing us.” 
 
“When and how is that happening?” 
 
“I told him I’d fetch you and we could leave right away. As for how, I didn’t stick around and 
ask.” 
 
“I need a few things first, from my flat. And we should probably leave a note for Mrs. Doiron 
and Maurice. People will ask questions if we just disappear and I don’t want them pestering 
Ianto.” 
 
“Why don’t you pack what you need and I’ll take care of the letters. Do you have something you 
want me to say?” 
 
Jack shrugged. “Anything convincing. Just make it sound good, nothing too dire, but that we 
won’t be coming back. Thank them, for everything. They’re nice people.” 
 
“Everyone’s nice here.” 
 

“Just like a postcard.” 

  
  

 
 

     CHAPTER ELEVEN 

 

They cleared out their rooms as quietly and discretely as possible. Jack put everything he wanted 
to take with him into one of the pillowcases Ianto helped him pick out when he had first moved. 
It still smelled like his lover, Jack noted, as he filled the makeshift sack with the photos he’d 
taken, the camera and a few of the fine shirts Monsieur Homme had made for him. He didn’t 
know if he would wear them again, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. He also 
took the tattered tour guide Ianto bought him on their second date. It was worn from the rain and 
from being stuffed into his jacket pocket, but Jack didn’t care. It would go into the memory box 
he kept in his office. Someday he would take it out and his heart would swell at the sight of the 
words, Parí, A Walking Guide. 
 
Owen did not have many sentimental possessions, but he kept his book on Parí as well, along 
with a shirt Gwen forced him to buy one day and a few pages of sheet music. “I guess we need to 
be careful not to show these things to anyone, right?” holding up the first page of a song that did 
not exist in their world. 
 
“No one would believe you anyway,” Jack murmured as he tossed a few items into the pile that 
was going into the trash. “I think that’s everything. You all set?” 
 
“Just need to drop these letters off. Let’s go.” 
 
Jack picked up his RAF coat from the bed and for the first time since his third day in Parí he slid 
his arms through the sleeves and settled the heavy coat onto his shoulders. He picked up his sack 
and followed Owen out of the room. 
 
 
A Meliank was waiting patiently for them by the infamous gateway where Owen and Jack had 
initially landed. Jack could understand why this alien would stand out. Though humanoid 
looking, A Meliank was tall, about six and a half feet, with smooth, lavender skin that glistened 
even in the dark night. He was dressed in several layers of fabrics, all very lush and ornate in 
shades of green, maroon and gold. His hair was blue, almost the color of midnight, the same as 
his enormous eyes, and fell down his back in many thin plaits.   
 
“Greetings, Captain,” A Meliank said, his light voice heavily accented. “I am glad your doctor 
was able to find you so expeditiously. You are ready to return now?” 
 
“You speak English?” 
 
“I have a translator,” A Meliank clarified, gesturing to what must have been a pocket in his 
robes. “Dr. Harper tells me he has been stuck here for almost two months. Is that correct?” 

 
“It is. One week here is one day in our world.” 
 
“Then I imagine you must be anxious to return. Shall we go?” 
 
Jack took one final look at Parí, joyous and peaceful looking as it slowly fell asleep. “Yes, it’s 
time to go.” 
 
“Very well. Dr. Owen Harper, please take my hands.” 
 
Owen placed his hands on top of A Meliank’s larger ones. He noticed that a round object, similar 
to the one that was imbedded into the frame was placed on the right palm. “This will take us 
home?” 
 
“Yes. Just remember to breathe.”  
 
Before Jack’s eyes, a soft white glow enveloped Owen’s hands, then his shoulders and soon his 
whole body. It blinded Jack for just a second and when he could see once more, Owen was gone. 
“That’s it?” 
 
“Were you expecting something a bit more complicated?” A Meliank asked with a smile, 
showing Jack his sharp looking white teeth. “I assure you it is not as easy as it appears. It 
requires much of my energy to do this.” 
 
“Do you need a minute to recover?” 
 
“I will be fine. We must return you to your home. You have been missed. And Gaetiezzé is 
anxious to speak with you.” 
 
“I’m rather surprised he didn’t come here himself, see what was inside the world he was 
guarding.” 
 
“That is precisely why he did not. He has trusted me with the task.” 
 
“Owen said you are his consort?” 
 
“I believe that is the proper word for it, yes.” 
 
“You’re his partner? You love him, would do anything for him?” 
 
“Only that which I knew he would want me to do. And yes, I love him dearly.” 
 
Jack was about to say more, but closed his mouth instead and swallowed thickly. “Get me out of 
here.” 
 
“Take my hands, Captain and breathe.”  

 
Jack tucked his sack of treasures under his arm and placed his hands into A Meliank’s. He closed 
his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt a warm, itchy sensation travel up from his fingertips to 
his hair and straight down his spine. Then he was engulfed with it. He wanted to scratch, but he 
couldn’t move his body. 
 
As fast as the sensation came, it went, and Jack landed harshly onto a hard, cold surface. 
 
“Oh, Jack! You’re back!” 
 
Jack took a moment to take in his new location, damp, stale air, a pair of black stiletto shoes and 
the buzz of Rift energy teasing his senses. He was in the Hub, in Cardiff, in his world. Slowly, he 
got to his feet. He brushed the dirt off his trousers and plastered a fake smile on his face.  
 
“Hello, ladies. Miss me?” 
 
“Jack! We’re so glad you’re safe.” Both Susie and Tosh gave him very quick, awkward hugs 
before stepping away from him. Jack suddenly realised how disconnected his teammates were 
from one another if they could barely bring themselves to hug each other. He made a note to 
think on it more later on.  
 
“Yes, safe and sound, not a scratch on me. Although, I have to say, that isn’t my favorite way to 
travel.” 
 
“Unfortunately, Captain, it is the only known mode of transportation.” 
 
Jack now noticed another member of the Fogniaccztir species standing nearby. He looked like A 
Meliank, but his attire showed him to be of higher rank. He was broader and his snow-white hair 
was spun into tight ringlets that bounced by his shoulder blades. “You must be Gaetiezzé.” 
 
“I am Gaetiezzé, Guardian of this gateway. Would it be possible to continue our discussion in a 
more hospitable environment? Upstairs perhaps?” 
 
“After you.” Jack and Gaetiezzé started to ascend the stairs with Susie and Owen close behind 
when Tosh stopped them. 
 
“What about A Meliank? Shouldn’t we wait for him to return?” 
 
“If you could please do that, Miss Toshiko Sato, I would be most grateful. Once he has returned 
safely, I would like him join us. You will direct him, yes?” 
 
“Of course.” 
 
“Thanks, Tosh,” Jack said with a small, genuine quirk of his lips.  
 

Up in Jack’s office, the guardian filled the Captain in on what had transpired in his absence while 
the two other members of Torchwood 3 made coffee.  
 
“It took some searching. Our historians went through many old documents, but they were able to 
locate information about retrieval from within the gateway. The stone that sealed the entrance 
was the key. Unfortunately, Ms. Costello said it was lost. We had to find another one. I do not 
think my team has had such an enjoyable time before. They were most excited about this 
project.” 
 
“Well, I’m glad we were a good source of entertainment for you all.” 
 
“I do not mean to be rude, just honest. This has not happened for many generations! We have 
never prepared for such an event. When we found a second stone, we were not certain if it would 
indeed work, but A Meliank insisted that he could do it.” 
 
“And he did. He said it took a lot of energy to do it though.” 
 
“He is very strong in body and mind.” 
 
“So, what now, Gaetiezzé? I’m assuming you want to reclaim the painting.” 
 
“Indeed we would. It has been in my family’s possession since its creation.” 
 
“Creation? What do you mean?” 
 
“Mythology is the main source of our information regarding the gateways.” 
 
“Gateways? You mean there’s more than one?” 
 
“Our ancestors created them and entrusted their care to the High Order families of which there 
are six.” 
 
“The world I landed in was populated by humans though. Did your ancestors make a rift between 
realities?” Jack asked. 
 
“I do not truly believe they did. Most of my people believe our ancestors helped colonise the 
corners of the universe and used the gateways to watch over them. However, it is, as I said, a 
myth. What we know for certain is that each generation is charged with their guardianship. How 
they came to be is irrelevant. They simply are and we guard them.” Gaetiezzé sighed before 
continuing his story. “It is documented that there was a war between one of the worlds and 
Dulrilkl. Once it was over, many years later, the Guardians agreed that the Fogniaccztir would 
never interfere again, never enter the gateway again. The stone was forged and sealed the 
gateway. No one has entered since.” 
 
“Until Owen fell in.” 
 

“And you followed. I have often wondered what kind of places were there. I know every image 
as well as I know my consort’s body. I am not going to ask you about where you were; it will be 
too much temptation. But, please tell me, was it a peaceful place? Was it surviving well?” 
 
Jack looked at the alien sitting regally before him. He sounded like a concerned parent and in 
way Jack supposed he was one. “It was beautiful. It was thriving. There had been wars years 
before, but they were living peacefully. It was…” Jack’s voice trailed off as he thought about 
what he left behind. “You would have been proud, Gaetiezzé.” 
 
The Guardian smiled. “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your words.” 
 
“It’s the truth. To be honest, it didn’t feel like I was stranded in a strange world at all.” 
 
“You are missing it, aren’t you?” 
 
Jack shrugged. “Time is different there. What was only three days here was almost a month 
there.” 
 
“Oh,” was all the Guardian said, but his eyes were reading Jack. The Captain folded his arms 
across his chest and tried to look nonchalant. 
 
“I don’t mean to contradict your beliefs, but I’m more inclined to believe that Owen and I were 
in an alternate reality,” Jack surmised. “It had to have been one because it was so similar to 
Earth.” 
 
“You may believe what you want, Captain. I am sorry I cannot provide you with exact answers. 
They do not exist.” 
 
Jack sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We’re not going back there and I don’t think Owen and I 
made any lasting impacts that would affect the future, at least not enough to cause a war.”  
 
Gaetiezzé was silent for a moment, watching the Captain as he toyed with the strap around his 
wrist, his mind obviously elsewhere. “I am also sorry for the confusion you must feel,” he said, 
breaking the Captain’s train of thought. 
 
“What do you mean?”  
 
“The light in your colleagues’ eyes is not returned. They were happy to see each other again and 
celebrated, but you did not. You smile when you do not wish to be smiling. But, it is obvious you 
care for them. That is conflicting, is it not?” 
 
Jack snorted. “Don’t miss a thing, do you?” 
 
“Not when it is so obvious,” Gaetiezzé remarked. “Again, I do not mean to be rude or 
presumptuous, but I feel responsible.” 
 

Before the Guardian could continue, the sound of footsteps coming up from the basement was 
heard.  
 
“That must be Tosh and A Meliank!” Susie called out from below.  
 
Jack turned to look out the window just in time to see his technician and the consort enter the 
Hub. A Meliank was leaning heavily against the much shorter Toshiko. 
 
“Gaetiezzé?” Jack started.  
 
The Guardian must have sensed the distress and he was out of the office before the pair made it 
to the shabby couch. “A Meliank! What is wrong?” 
 
The consort just chuckled as he settled himself on the couch, releasing Tosh to grab onto his 
worried lover. “Nothing, Tiez. I am just a little weak. Nothing that a spot of that dark drink won’t 
cure.” 
 
“Here,” Jack said, taking a cup from the tray Susie carried. “You can have mine. I don’t need 
any.” In truth, Jack could have really used a good, strong cup of coffee, but like with so many 
things, Ianto had spoiled him on anything other than quality roasts.  
 
“Thank you, Captain.” A Meliank took the cup and sipped from it gratefully. “I feel better 
already. Please do not fuss, Tiez.” 
 
“I have every right to fuss, Mel, so just let me.”  
 
Jack watched as the Guardian sat beside his consort and smoothed back a few loose strands of 
dark blue hair. They were so loving, from their pet names to the looks they gave each other as 
the Torchwood team set about debriefing everyone on their experiences. Jack stayed quiet, 
choosing instead to watch the guests from Dulrilkl. He’d had very little interaction with this 
species in the past and he was struck by them. They were beautiful, intelligent, caring, and 
incredibly observant.  It was obvious that they were taken with his team as well; they listened 
eagerly to Tosh’s explanation of the programs she was working on and Susie’s discovery of a 
nest of Weevils. 
 
“Needless to say, there was hardly a dull moment, Jack. I believe Tosh and I are owed time and a 
half!” The others laughed at Susie’s demand and Jack nodded his head in agreement.  
 
“I’m sure we can work something out, Susie. And thank you for all you’ve done. But, I think it 
might be time for us to see to our guests. Will you be staying the night?” 
 
“Your ladies have been most kind in preparing a room here for us. Our ship is in your car park 
and not nearly as comfortable as your mattresses,” Gaetiezzé informed Jack. 
 
“If it wouldn’t be a bother, Captain, we should like to stay another Earth day.” A Meliank smiled 
through his fatigue, but Jack could tell that the man needed rest. 

 
“I’d love for you to stay. Why doesn’t everyone go home and we’ll meet back here in the 
morning. Owen, I’m sure you’re eager to sleep in your own bed.” The medic just nodded. He 
hadn’t said much since he arrived back, seeming to take his lead from Jack, who was also quiet. 
“Then it’s settled.” Everyone dispersed, but Owen lingered by his Captain’s shoulder. 
“Something you needed, Owen?” 
 
“When you didn’t appear in the basement immediately… I wondered if you ran.” 
 
“After the way I left, how could I have gone back to him? No, you were right. My place is here 
with Torchwood. Go home, Owen. Get some sleep.” 
 
“I don’t know if I can. I’m glad I’m back, but…” 
 
“It feels weird, doesn’t it?” Jack asked, knowing exactly how he felt. “Try to get back into your 
routine and soon it will be as if you never left.” 
 
“Are you going to take your own advice?” 
 
“I’m heading down to my bunker. And tomorrow, we’ll finish the debriefing, see our new friends 
off, and get back to work. Just another day.” 
 
“Jack, I’m – ” 
 
“Owen, just go home, get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” 
 
Owen huffed, but did as Jack asked and headed out of the Hub. Jack looked around and saw that 
everyone had gone. Jack took his time shutting things down, as he had every night before falling 
into the painting. Once everything was at rest, Jack went down to his bunker with his pillow 
sack. He slowly began the task of unpacking his belongings, hanging up the shirts, shelving the 
camera and separating the photos between the ones he was going to keep nearby and those that 
would be put away.  
 
He sat on his camp bed with the stack of images on his lap. Carefully, trying to avoid smudging 
the pictures, he looked at the smiling face of his lover. Each one, both candid and posed, showed 
Ianto, happy and in love. It made Jack’s heart ache, thinking of Ianto’s face as he left the gallery. 
He wondered if he should just put all of the photos away and take them out again when the pain 
and heartache weren’t so acute. But, the thought of not seeing Ianto, even in just a captured 
image, for more than a day brought a sickening feeling that settled in his gut. Jack put one aside 
and placed the others in a drawer in his dresser. He propped the selected photo against his small 
table lamp, and laid down on his bed, looking at it.  
 
It showed him and Ianto standing in front of the Louvre, their arms wrapped around each other. 
Jack remembered how excited he had been to see the museum as it was before the glass 
pyramids were erected. Through careful questioning, he found out that, to Ianto’s knowledge, no 
one had even suggested that such pieces be built.  

 
It had been a good day, lots of sunshine, no work to do, just a long stretch of time to do with as 
they pleased. The tourist they had stopped to take the photo had been more than happy to take a 
few of them and Jack kept them all. He loved this one the most, a very close shot of them, their 
heads together, their smiles beaming.    
 
Jack stared at it until his eyes were blurry with tears. He turned onto his back and let the small 
salty streams run down his face and wet his hair. He was exhausted and knew that at some point 
his body would give in and drag him into slumber, but he guessed that was several hours away. 
For the moment, he just let his mind drift where it wanted, always coming back to that look in 
Ianto’s eyes when he realised that Jack had lied to him.  
 
 
The next morning, Jack, his team, and the Guardian were all gathered around the sofa having a 
breakfast of coffee, pastries and muffins. 
 
“Are you sure A Meliank is alright? Should I take him something to eat?” Tosh asked, as the 
plates of food were almost bare. 
 
“That would be very kind of you, Miss Sato,” Gaetiezzé said. “And I’m sure he would love some 
coffee. But, I will take it to him. He was still weak when he awoke this morning. I’m sure this 
food will be most welcome.” 
 
Gaetiezzé took a plate and two cups of coffee and went to deliver them to his consort.  
 
“They’re sweet, aren’t they?” Tosh commented. 
 
“Very,” Susie agreed with little interest. 
 
“A Meliank told me that when they get back, they are going to try to start a family. Can you 
imagine?” 
 
“What? The two of them? They’re both blokes!” Owen exclaimed. 
 
“Alien biology is not the same as human, Owen. And no, you may not ask them how it works.” 
 
“But, Jack! Think of what we could learn – ” 
 
“It’d be rude, Owen. Let them be.” 
 
Owen continued to grumble, but let the matter drop.  
 
“So,” Susie began, “are you guys going to tell us what you’ve been up to for the past few 
weeks?” 
 
“Yes!” Tosh said. “Tell us, what was it like in there?” 

 
Owen and Jack exchanged a look, which Owen broke in favor of shoveling flaky croissant into 
his mouth. Jack sighed. “Well, it was basically an alternative Earth. Everyone was human and 
things were pretty much the same, but there were a few differences. We landed in Paris, or Parí, 
as it was called.” 
 
“Paris? You lucky arse bastards! We’re running around like crazy, trying to bring you home and 
all the while you are kicking up your heels in Paris!” Susie shouted. “Unbelievable, Tosh. Looks 
like Jack owes us some holiday time as well as time and a half.” 
 
“No holidays, ladies. The last thing Owen and I need is anymore time without your lovely 
company.” Jack winked at them before gulping down his coffee. It was hot and soothing, but it 
tasted like ash in his mouth. He smiled as he swallowed the drink. “Besides, it wasn’t like Owen 
and I were loafing about. We had to work you know.” 
 
“Yeah, we did, almost every night!” Owen added. 
 
“Doing what exactly?” 
 
“We worked in a jazz club on the Left Bank.” 
 
“Bartending?” 
 
“Entertaining,” Jack replied, grinning. “You are looking at two former stars of the Bleu Allée 
nightclub. Owen Harper, accomplished pianist.” 
 
“And Jack Harkness, crooner extraordinaire!” 
 
Tosh shook her head. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way.” 
 
“Believe what you want, Tosh. Jack and I were brilliant and everyone loved us.” 
 
“If it was so wonderful, why’d you bother coming back?” Susie asked sarcastically. 
 
Jack blinked against the brief stab of hurt and was thankful when Owen answered her remark. “If 
you were going to be this ungrateful, we wouldn’t have done.” 
 
“No, no, we’re glad you’re back, honestly,” Tosh conceded. “This just means you’re going to 
have to give us a duet sometime when we’re here late.” 
 
“When we’re pissed is more like it.” 
 
“I’ll leave that to you three then,” Jack said, rising from his spot at the table. “I believe there is a 
certain Ms. Hartman that has been waiting for me to return her call. Can someone just give me a 
shout when our guests come back up? Although, if Tosh is correct, perhaps they couldn’t resist 
christening the hotel room!” Jack gave a leer and a laugh before heading up to his office.  

 
It was true that the leader of Torchwood wanted to speak with him, but he normally would never 
rush to call her. Jack just really wanted to avoid any more questions and comments from the 
team. He trusted Owen to tell their stories and edit appropriately.  
 
“Back to the grind,” he mumbled as he picked up his phone and dialed the London office. Soon 
he was connected to Yvonne’s line and her grating voice invaded his ear. “Yvonne! I hear 
you’ve been impatient for me.” 
 
“I don’t like waiting Harkness. Where have you been? Your staff hasn’t been forthcoming.” 
 
“That’s because they’re my staff and not your toadies. Now, what can I do for you?” 
 
 
Jack managed to get off the phone with the head of Torchwood in just less than thirty minutes. 
Not bad, he thought. He stretched his arms above his head and was about to check his e-mail 
when a thought hit him like a bullet.  
 
Quickly, he pulled one of his search programs and began typing in names of the friends he made 
in Parí. If it was an alternate reality, was it possible that there were versions of them in his 
universe? He almost refrained from typing in Ianto’s name, but he decided he had to know. He 
set the program running, searching for information on Gwen Cooper, Rhys Williams and Ianto 
Jones. He put in their ages and their birthplaces and hoped to find the answer quickly. 
 
He spent the rest of the day checking his e-mails, returning phone calls and catching up on 
paperwork. He made sure his guests were well. The two aliens spent most of the day with 
Toshiko and Owen, learning about Earth and about the work that the team members did. Susie 
isolated herself away with some new project and only appeared for food.   
 
 It was evening by the time Jack’s search was complete. After sifting through all of the 
information, it became clear that no one was a match. Jack swallowed thickly. When he did the 
search, he wasn’t sure if he wanted other versions of his new friends to pop up on his computer 
screen. However, faced with the fact that there wasn’t a spunky Gwen Cooper, or a heroic Rhys 
Williams in his life anymore was more upsetting than he expected. And his world wouldn’t know 
the beauty that was his lover could bring. Jack shook his head viciously, trying to regain focus 
and push down his sorrow.  
 
He was saved from his sad thoughts by an alarm sounding. He jumped up from his chair, 
grabbed his coat from the rack and jogged out of his office. 
 
“Weevils?” he called out over the Hub. 
 
“Looks like,” Tosh said, as she tapped on her computer trying to find the aliens’ location.  
 
“Good. I could go for a bit of running. Let’s roll!” 
 

“Captain? If I could detain you?” 
 
Jack turned and saw Gaetiezzé standing by the pool of water to the left. “Not the best time, 
Gaetiezzé. We need to take care of a little problem.” 
 
“If it is so little, surely your team can handle it. Please do me this favor, Captain Harkness.” 
 
“Stay, Jack. We’ll take care of it,” Susie assured him. 
 
“Them,” Tosh corrected. “It’s a pair of them.” 
 
“Fine. Susie, take Tosh and Owen with you. Call if you get into trouble.” Jack waited until his 
team was armed and charging out the door. “What is it? Is something wrong with A Meliank?” 
 
Gaetiezzé shook his head, his curls flying into his handsome face as he did so. “There is nothing 
wrong with him, but I do wish to speak to you about him. I thought it best for this conversation 
to remain private.” His dark eyes indicated the now shut entrance into Torchwood 3 
 
“Very well. You certainly have my attention.” Jack put his hands in his pockets and stood firm.  
 
Gaetiezzé regarded the Captain with a friendly gaze before facing the shimmering pool. “I have 
known Mel all of my life. We were raised together and our parents always planned for us to be 
bound to one another. Unlike some, we did not mind this arrangement. We never fought it, never 
questioned it. We knew our parents’ will would be obeyed and in truth I never wanted to be with 
anyone else. It is not always easy; we fight often. Mel is extremely stubborn and rarely relents in 
an argument when he believes whole-heartedly he is in the right. I love him for that, among 
many other things.”  
 
Gaetiezzé paused to face Jack, who was watching him curiously. “I am a blessed man, Captain. 
As a member of the High Order, I am away often for government work and since I cannot bear to 
be parted from him, Mel accompanies me. He doesn’t like all the travelling. He wants to be at 
home. He wants to carry my children. He puts it aside for me because he returns the love I give 
equally.” 
 
“This all very nice, Gaetiezzé and I agree, you are very lucky. But, why are you telling me all of 
this? I could tell how much you loved each other within moments of meeting you.” 
 
Gaetiezzé blushed, or at least, Jack thought it was blush; the alien’s lavender skin darkened to a 
rose color. “Thank you, Captain. I am telling you all of this so that you will understand why I 
have allowed a breach of protocol.” 
 
Jack’s eyes darkened. “What protocol?” 
 
“A Meliank is a strong, intelligent man. He may not hold my rank, but he has my heart and my 
respect. I know he would not have done this unless he had carefully thought it through.” 
 

“Do stop asking for forgiveness, Tiez,” A Meliank stated as he came up the stairs from the 
basement. In his hands was the painting, the stone used to retrieve them embedded in the frame.  
 
Jack saw it and he felt his heart sink just a bit more. A Meliank had closed the world. No more 
interference, just guardianship. “What have you done that needs forgiving?” 
 
“I do not believe anything, Captain. However, Tiez does not want you to think him a weak 
minded man so he is giving you explanations when all you have to do is use your eyes.” 
 
“Use my eyes?” 
 
“And ears.” 
 
Jack was confused as to what A Meliank meant until he heard the soft step of feet on the stairs. 
Jack watched as the consort grinned, smugly, and moved over to his mate. The sound grew 
closer and closer. Jack breathed more deeply, worried about what was coming from the 
basement. He looked to his guests who were both calm. When Jack’s eyes returned to the stairs 
he had to blink several times.  
 
Standing there with a suitcase clutched in his hand was someone Jack had never thought he’d lay 
eyes on again. 
 
“Ianto?”   
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 
    

CHAPTER TWELVE 

 

 
It took Ianto a long time to calm down enough to form a coherent sentence, though it was 
obvious to Rhys and Gwen that Jack left him. Rhys didn’t say anything, just let Ianto sit down 
and try to catch his breath. Gwen fetched some water and told the curator that Ianto received 
upsetting news and was leaving the party early.  
 
Part of Ianto registered what was happening around him, knew his best mate was rubbing his 
back and saying soothing things to him. He knew Gwen was standing by Rhys and that the 
phrase, “poor lamb,” escaped her mouth. Part of him understood these things and that he 
probably looked completely foolish to the gallery patrons. But, the other part of him didn’t care 
what he looked like or what his friends were doing to help him. All this part knew was that he 
couldn’t let things end this way. He couldn’t let things end at all. 
 
Rhys didn’t try to stop him. The determination on his face must have shone clearly to his friend. 
Rhys nodded his head and pulled him into a tight hug before releasing him.  
 

Ianto ran down the street, his dress shoes clacking against the ground. He didn’t think he was 
that far behind Jack and Owen, but he couldn’t see them anywhere. He prayed that he was 
correct in thinking that they would go to their flats before leaving.  
 
“Please, don’t let me be too late,” he begged the world.  
 
He rounded the corner into Jack’s street just in time to see his lover and his friend leave their 
building and head down towards the square. Ianto slowed his pace and followed behind them, 
taking care not to draw attention to himself. He needed to know where Jack was going and why 
he couldn’t go with him. Everything in his body screamed that this was wrong, that Jack was 
wrong.  
 
After several minutes, the three men arrived at the square. Waiting there by the gateway was 
something Ianto had never dreamed to see in his lifetime. It had to be an alien though it had 
human features. But the skin color and the large eyes! They were much too big to be the eyes of 
a human man. Ianto assumed it was a man based on the way he carried himself. The artist 
watched, enthralled, as Owen took hands with the alien and became encased in a bright white 
light. In a flash, the pianist was gone. Ianto moved a bit closer, taking cover behind the few trees 
that stood sentinel. Jack and the alien were talking, but Ianto could not hear the words. He did 
notice the slope of his lover’s shoulders; the muscles were tensed underneath that old air force 
coat. Ianto wondered why Jack chose to put it on; Ianto hadn’t seen him wear it in weeks. 
 
Jack tucked a full pillowcase under his arm and took the alien’s hands as Owen had done. If 
Ianto was going to speak up, he needed to do it now. The white light was getting brighter. 
 
“Jack! Wait!” 
 
Ianto ran from his hiding place towards the gateway, but the light blinded him and he tripped on 
the cobbles. He landed hard on his knees and scraped his hands as he tried to stop his fall. 
“Jack!” yelled again. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled the rest of the way, but, when the 
light faded away, all that remained was the alien. “No! Jack.” 
 
The alien turned towards the cry and saw the young man staring at the place where the Captain 
had stood seconds ago. “He’s left. I apologise.” 
 
“But, where did he go?” 
 
“Home,” the alien replied succinctly. 
 
“This is his home! Here with me. What have you done with him?” Ianto knew that Jack went 
willingly, but he was too distraught to care.  
 
“I did what was asked. I sent him and Dr. Owen Harper back. I must follow now myself.”  
 
“He was telling the truth then. You’re an alien and he came here by accident.” 
 

“It is true. My name is A Meliank, consort to Gaetiezzé, Guardian of the gateway.” 
 
“Ianto Jones.” he returned. 
 
“You are bleeding, Ianto Jones.” 
 
Ianto looked down and saw the bloody cuts on his hands and knees. He grabbed his handkerchief 
and blotted at the small puddles forming in his palm. “I was trying to… I mean I… I was too 
late.” 
 
A Meliank cocked his head to one side. “You are the Captain’s consort, are you not? His… 
partner? You love him.” Ianto nodded sadly. “And he has left you behind.” 
 
“He said that I belonged here and he was needed back in his world.” 
 
“That is true; he is needed. However, it seems that where you belong is with your lover, do you 
not agree?” 
 
“He said we couldn’t be together anymore.” 
 
“But he loves you.” 
 
“He said he did.” 
 
A Meliank crossed his long arms over his chest and toyed with the fabric of his garment. “Mr. 
Jones, I do not pretend to comprehend all the workings of the human race, but I do know mine. 
And I know the upsets of loving one on whom others depend. Sacrifice and understanding are 
required as well as stubbornness. But it is worth the hardship when I see how much I am loved.” 
Ianto did not speak. He didn’t know how to respond to the alien’s words. “Would you like to 
follow your partner, Mr. Jones?” 
 
“What? But, Jack said – ” 
 
“Captain Harkness is a noble man for leaving you to tend to others, noble and foolish. He cannot 
hope to be an effective leader when part of his being is stranded elsewhere. I will take you to 
him.” 
 
Ianto’s eyes lit up. “You will?” 
 
“I will, but you must do something for me.” 
 
“Anything!” 
 
“Do not be so hasty, Mr. Jones. If I take you back you must be prepared to accept the hardships. 
These appearances from our world do not happen; it is illegal. If I take you to the Captain, you 
must be ready to never return to this place, to these people.” 

 
“Never?” 
 
A Meliank shook his head and gazed at Ianto, his large eyes serious. “The portal to this world 
will be sealed after I return. If you are willing to say goodbye to this world, this life, and create a 
new one with the Captain, meet me here in one week.” 
 
“A week?! Why so long?” 
 
“You need to think about this. You need to miss him first.” 
 
“What do you mean? I miss him already!” 
 
A Meliank shook his head. “One week, Ianto Jones, and I will return for your answer. If you 
choose to come, bring only what you can carry.” 
 
“And you’ll take me to Jack?” 
 
“I will. I must leave now. They will be wondering where I am.” 
 
“Thank you so much.” 
 
“As I said, I do understand.” 
 
The alien clasped his hands together and soon vanished.  
 
Ianto walked home and thought about the choice that lay before him. Could he leave everything 
behind and follow Jack? He had asked Jack as a last resort to take him away, but could he do it, 
knowing he would never see Rhys again? Never see his other friends? Did he love Jack enough 
to do this? 
 
 
“Ianto?” 
 
“Jack.” 
 
Jack was frozen to the spot. There was no way that this was happening. “How?” 
 
“Same as you, Captain,” A Meliank said. “I brought him here a little while ago. I consulted with 
Gaetiezzé first of course.” 
 
“What you call ‘consult’ was more like telling me what you were going to do.” the Guardian 
clarified. 
 
“You like it when I am forceful. Do not pretend otherwise.” A Meliank brushed his lover’s arm 
affectionately. “If I may, Mr. Jones; welcome to Earth.” 

 
Ianto smirked. “Thank you, A Meliank. Jack, say something.” 
 
“I don’t know what to say.” He looked at the Guardian, still confused, still refusing to hope. 
“You said no more interfering.” 
 
“I did say that, but A Meliank was very persuasive and after meeting your handsome young man, 
I am convinced that I’ve made the correct choice. Mr. Jones has agreed to give up his life to 
follow you here, Captain. You are a very lucky man.” 
 
“Ianto, I don’t understand,” Jack confessed. 
 
Ianto put his suitcase down on the ground and walked slowly over to his lover. “A Meliank asked 
me if I could leave everything in Parí for the chance to be with you. And I can. Jack, I’m here 
now. And I know there is more for you tell me about yourself and about this world, but I don’t 
care.” 
 
Jack reached out and grabbed Ianto around the waist. “You have to care, Ianto. This isn’t like 
Parí at all. Parí is gorgeous and peaceful.” 
 
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not there and I wouldn’t be able to walk down a single street and not 
think of you.” 
 
“But, your life is there! Your art, the studio, your job, Rhys, your best mate!” 
 
“And I will miss him very much, but everything else is replaceable, Jack. I can make art here. I 
can find beauty here. I need to be with you.” Ianto circled his arms around Jack’s neck and held 
him close, carding his fingers through his lover’s hair. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. You are 
worth it, Jack. Please, understand that. You could tell me that you were an alien and it wouldn’t 
change the way I feel about you. ” 
 
Jack pulled Ianto closer to his body, feeling every inch of the Welshman, something he thought 
he would never experience again. “Ianto, I love you. It killed me to walk away from you. It’s 
only been a day, but it feels like ages since I’ve seen you.” 
 
Ianto pulled away to look at Jack. “That was a week ago.” 
 
“A week?” Ianto nodded. “Well, that is one of the many differences between your world and 
mine, Ianto.”  
 
Ianto’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m going to have to start making a list.” 
 
“Captain, if I may interrupt.” 
 
Jack and Ianto both turned in each other’s arms to see Gaetiezzé and A Meliank. 
 

“Mr. Jones has made his choice, but if you choose differently, A Meliank will remove the stone 
and take him back.” 
 
The consort nodded. “We think it only fair that you return the sentiment. He has given up his 
home and you must now give him yours.” 
 
Jack turned to Ianto. There was so much he had to tell the younger man, his immortality being 
the most important. But, he couldn’t deny how happy he was to see Ianto. He vowed then and 
there that no matter what the Rift threw at him, no matter how many times the planet needed to 
be saved, he would never let Ianto regret the choice that he had made.  
 
Jack cupped Ianto’s cheek in his hand and kissed his lips. It was a gentle caress, but one full of 
relief and love. Jack broke away from his lover and hugged him. Looking over Ianto’s shoulder, 
Jack noticed that the Guardian and his consort had left the couple alone. “I never thought I would 
see you again. The thought of never holding you – ” 
 
“You’ll never have to think about it again, Jack. I’m here to stay… if that’s what you want.” 
 
“It is. God, Ianto, I can barely think right now. The obstacles – ” 
 
“We will get through them together. I promise. I don’t mean to be cliché, but…” 
 
“Be cliché!” Jack laughed joyfully.  “I love it. I love you.” Jack kissed Ianto’s hair then turned 
the young man to press kisses to his forehead, nose and mouth. “This is going to work.” Jack was 
surprised how deeply he believed that. Looking into Ianto’s blue eyes, Jack saw how much his 
lover believed it too.  
 
“We get our way, Jack.” The two smiled at each other, both giddy with excitement as the news 
settled in their minds. “Now, if my memory serves me correctly – ” 
 
 “Which it always does.” 
 
“Before we were interrupted at the gallery, we were dancing and you were going to sing to me 
again.” 
 
“I believe I was. If you don’t mind though, I think I’ll change the music.” 
 
“You know I just love to hear you sing. I trust your choice.” 
 
Jack adjusted his hold on Ianto, moving them into a dancing position. He clutched his lover’s 
hand in his and held it over his heart. Jack breathed in deeply, the stale air of the Hub mixed with 
the spice of Ianto’s aftershave. Jack smiled as he realised it was a combination he was going to 
experience for a long time to come. He started to hum an upbeat verse and led Ianto in a much 
faster dance than the one at the gallery. “I’m feeling a bit bouncy right now. We’re celebrating 
after all.” 
 

Ianto laughed at Jack’s enthusiasm. “I like it.” Ianto found himself humming along to the old 
tune. 
 
“I’m glad. There’s nothing that I’m looking forward to more than sharing my world with you.” 
 
 They spun around the floor, Jack’s clear voice echoing off the walls of the Hub, making the 
space feel full of life and hope. 
 
I got daisies 
In green pastures 
I got my man 
Who could ask for anything more? 
 
“Now who’s being cliché?” Ianto asked. Jack unexpectedly dipped him and Ianto let out a loud 
shout of surprise. “Jack!” 
 
Jack just laughed and continued to spin the man he loved around and around, singing his heart 
out. 
 
Ol’ Man Trouble, I don’t mind him 
You won’t find him ‘round my door 
 
I got starlight 
I got sweet dreams 
I got my man 
Who could ask for anything more? 
Who could ask for anything more? 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

THE END 

 
  

  
  

  

  

  

                            

  
  
  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE SONGS 

 

The following is a list of the songs used in this story and the versions that inspired me.  
Thank you! 
 

1.  “Nice Work If You Can Get It – as done by Georges Guétary in An American In Paris  
2.  “Peel Me A Grape” as done by Anita O’Day 
3.  “I Love Paris” – as done by Frank Sinatra 
4.  “You Go To My Head” as done by Rufus Wainwright 
5.  “He Loves and She Loves” – as done by Ella Fitzgerald 
6.  “Begin the Beguine” – as done by Ella Fitzgerald 
7.  “Come Rain Or Come Shine” as done by Rufus Wainwright 
8.  “Love Walked In” (Ianto’s painting) as done by Georges Guétary in An American In 

Paris (cut from film) 

9.  “Love Is Here To Stay” – as done by Gene Kelly in An American In Paris 
10. “I Got Rhythm” featured in An American In Paris