A strange deck of Tarot cards, a dying TARDIS, and UNIT's invasion of a coastal Welsh village lead Torchwood to investigate the disappearance of the Doctor, with some help from Sarah Jane and Luke Smith. This is a new incarnation of the Doctor, however, and none of them are prepared for what they find as they unravel the mystery.

"It's been not nearly long enough," Ianto said. He held out his hands to the woman and kissed both cheeks. "I could have happily gone years without seeing you again. I may have to kill you all." Gwen blinked and looked at Jack, who had his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, Cousin Ian. Do you remember Wednesday? And these are Pugsley and Pubert; they weren't born when we visited last."

"You stole my pteranodon," the little girl said. There were razor blades in her voice.

"Prove it, maggot," Ianto replied.

"It's not the end of the world," he says softly, more softly than the other Doctor ever did. Rose rather appreciates the tone, despite the candor. "You know, we know a bit about that, right?" He pauses and his mouth presses against the back of Rose's head.

Out in the yard, her mum tackles dad and they roll about in the leaves, rakes forgotten.

"It feels like the end of something," she tells the window before turning away. Tony is at that androgynous age in which his belly laughs could be any child, any child in the world. In the universe.

Amongst the various spam messages that have managed to get through even Tosh’s super-filter (mostly for penis enlargements; and Jack really doesn’t need the encouragement), Suzie finds an interesting little email from a man called Ianto Jones. He seems somewhat desperate for a job, since he used to work for Torchwood One and his workplace is now basically rubble and therefore not really handing out salaries any more.

There is a gap in the multiverse. It's mainly unremarked, and it's not very important, but then it serves its purpose. After all, the companions of great men and women must have somewhere to put their feet up as well, at the end of the day.

"Captain Jack Harkness," Gwen said, with a police officer's careful precision. "I am relieving you of your command."

“Since we keep meeting like this, shouldn't we get to know each other?”

Jack woke up, but the conversation was only shortly interrupted as the nice lady from Torchwood killed him again.

I RARELY MEET PEOPLE MORE THAN ONCE.

“Well aren't I the lucky guy then?”

A bucket of water to the face and Jack was back in the land of the living. A bullet in the head and he was back with Death.

“Why do you keep turning up anyway? It's not like I stay dead.”

DUTY.

That was the last he saw of Death for a few days. But Jack rarely stayed out of trouble for long.

IT IS A NICE DAY. THERE IS LITTLE RAIN.

“What?”

I BELIEVE ACQUAINTANCES ARE SUPPOSED TO EXCHANGE PLEASANTRIES.

He sees them sometimes, when he's on the edge of sleep, or at the corner of his vision. Flashes, like. He'd call them dreams, except for how they very obviously aren't. They're too real for that. Ghosts, maybe. So many people have died in here.

"There's a cat," Ianto said. "On my back." "Hello moggie!" Owen said. "Where'd you come from?" "IM IN UR BASE -- " "And it's talking." "SITTIN ON YANTOE."

"You let Ianto fall into the Rift," Jack said, with a level of strained calm that had Owen edging towards the door. "Alright." He took a deep breath. "But you should know that nobody sleeps until we find him. And I'm probably going to fire you all."

"Take her – or him – on a date," Gwen said, not realising that she'd started pointing a staple-gun (what was that doing in here?) at him, "or leave them alone, John."

One two and engine grease; one two three is the dance of Suzie Costello, in which three is the beat and two is her hand in Jack's hand and one could be the partridge in the fucking pear tree for all he knows. One is the mystery. One is the mask.

Jack turns and advances slowly on him. "So you're going to kill me? An eye for an eye?" "Yes." Ianto adjusts his grip, removes the safety. Jack keeps walking until the barrel is an inch from his chest. "Will that make you feel better?" "Yes."

He'd worn her heart monitor on his wrist, watching the tiny pulse of blue light, all the way down the M4 and across the Severn, heading towards a full moon hanging brightly over Newport.