He lifted his gaze from the gray ashes of the dying fire to see the sun rising against the equally gray sky in the east. A red glow on the horizon was growing as the sunrise progressed, portents of interesting weather ahead. He looked up at the clouds, dark and baggy, laden with moisture before turning his attention back to the fire. A few embers remained, providing scant heat against the wind and cold. But then even at its height, the fire had failed to truly warm the Doctor.

Rose was gone, along with his brother; even the piece of coral, the TARDIS' small child, didn't survive. He smiled briefly as he thought of the last one. An infant TARDIS: he truly wished it could have been. He shook his head sadly. It had been his fault. He hadn't thought things through, taken them to their logical conclusion. He'd forgotten just how deadly the energy in Pete's world was. Failed to understand the depth of Rose's desperate yearning to be with him and only him, the original.

He now stood in front of the remnants of a funeral pyre that had held no body. A futile attempt to bring closure to the tragedy. He hoped Pete and Jackie would be able to treat the real body with the respect it deserved. The thought that his brother's remains might be on display in the basement of Torchwood sickened him.

A hiss from the last vestiges of the dying fire broke him from his reverie. The rain was starting to fall, thick, fat drops that felt like ice on his scalp. He stared at one tiny red ember that spat out a final puff of smoke as it darkened and died under the rain's assault. He heard the wheezing groan of the TARDIS: time to go.

Kicking at the ashes, he found a frozen puddle of metal, the ruins of the sonic. He sighed. Nothing left behind that someone could hurt themselves with. That was good. He needed to be more careful of that in the future.

He took one last look at the sea, its waves violent as the wind fought with the tide over control of the water's direction. He turned towards the insistent TARDIS and saw the much calmer and soothing waves the wind created on the dry ocean of tall grass that covered the isle. Mesmerizing… He found he had become lost in that motion when the TARDIS again insisted on his leaving. The groan of her engines was almost threatening. Reluctantly, he turned back to his ship. He had a feeling she wasn't done with him yet.

He walked inside and flung his wet coat over the closest of the coral support struts. He barely had time to recover his spare sonic when the TARDIS was off. The trip was short. It ended suddenly with the TARDIS skidding violently to a halt. He was almost thrown against the doors, but to his dismay, they opened at the last second, leaving him with nothing to stop his motion but the pavement outside.

"Oi, easy, girl!" he cried, as he nearly collided with a large metal structure, his backside landing hard on the wet pavement next to it. In answer to his protest, his coat came loose from the strut and landed in a sodden mass on top of him. He knew he shouldn't have tuned that gravitic anomalyser, at least not when she was in her current mood.

He quickly assessed his surroundings. Roald Dahl Plass, at the base of the water tower. The TARDIS apparently didn't feel she was done refueling.

Untangling himself from his coat, he stood up and left it on the ground. It was evening, and there didn't seem to be anyone around to see his rather embarrassing entrance. Just some traffic in the distance, too far to have noticed his arrival.

Cautiously he approached the TARDIS, only to have the doors slam in his face and the lock engage with a final click that brooked no argument. He pulled out his key and tried it anyway. It rattled uselessly as the locking mechanism refused to budge. He toyed with trying his sonic, but dismissed the idea. That violation would hardly improve her mood.

He put his hand on the ship and stroked her gently, his long fingers barely touching. "Come, girl, I know how you feel," he softly pleaded in the most personal form of Gallifreyan, reserved for only the closest of family members or beloved of friends. "I lost someone I loved too. I'm sorry, I really am. I know I made a right mess of it. Can't you forgive me?"

His answer came in the form of a shock that caused him to hiss in pain as he jerked his hand away from the door.

"Lover's quarrel?" a familiar voice asked.

The Doctor turned around, holding his injured hand, and saw Captain Jack Harkness with the abandoned coat over his arm, a cheeky smile on his face.

"No, she's just a bit temperamental while refueling, quite normal actually," the Doctor replied cheerily, hoping his friend would hear a confidence in his voice he didn't feel.

"Really?" The tone and grin told the Doctor that Jack wasn't buying it for a second, but would let it go for now. "How about you? You look like you could use some refueling. After some drying off, that is."

Scratching his head, the Doctor looked down at himself. He was soaked through. He must have stood staring at the grass longer than he thought. "I was caught out in a Scottish rainstorm. It was quite refreshing."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," replied Jack, reaching out and guiding him by the elbow. "Come on, I'd like you to meet my crew. I gather you won't be staying in the TARDIS for a while."

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the cranky machine and sighed. "No, I don't think so. She really was depleted and the rift isn't as strong as it was last time. It might take a week or so before she is feeling her old self again."

"That's fine, Ianto will get you fixed right up. We have a few places in the area we can house guests in," Jack assured him as they walked towards the Torchwood entrance. He looked down at the wet coat on his arm. "I'll have him get this dried out for you too."

Somehow, staying as a guest of Torchwood made the Doctor a bit nervous. "Uh… any chance I could stay with you instead?"

"No, I'm sorry. I stay in Torchwood headquarters. It could be awkward."

"Yes, I can understand that." He sighed and shook his head. Stay in Torchwood or as a guest of Torchwood. Not much of a choice, really.

"But don't worry, we can find you a nice room right near the Plass here. I'll list you as a guest consultant. Charge it to our expense account. It'll be fine."

"Thanks," replied the Doctor, wishing he could think of a polite way to turn down the offer.

"Where's Rose and that redhead by the way?" asked Jack. "I would have thought you would have had at least one of them with you."

"Both of them are fine, back with their families," the Doctor lied.

"Rose went back to her family after all she went through just to be with you? I find that a little hard to believe. Mickey said the whole time she was there, all she could think of was coming back and finding you. Practically took over Torchwood to do it."

"Oh… Well, the other me is a bit more romantic, I guess, swept her off her feet. She really didn't stand a chance. Being part human added something. She's much happier with him, than she ever would have been with me. It's as if he was made for her." He stopped, realizing he was rambling, telling the truth he had hoped would be, but which was in fact a lie.

One glance at Jack and he saw his friend didn't buy it. Fortunately, he didn't press for the truth either. Suddenly the Doctor saw something out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his head but it was gone. He stopped and scanned the area as he tried to figure out what he had seen. He knew it didn't belong here. Even with the rift nearby, it didn't belong. But what it was eluded him. All he'd seen was just a vague shape, a shadow.

That must have been it, just a shadow. The light was strange here. He was tired. What he had seen must have just been a trick of the light. The troubles with the TARDIS, the funeral, Jack asking about Rose and Donna, no wonder he was seeing things. He didn't sleep very much, didn't like to, but tonight he might give it a try again despite the nightmares it brought.

"Are you alright?" asked Jack worriedly.

The Doctor shook himself out of his thoughts and answered. "I'm fine, I'm fine, thought I saw something. But it was nothing. Just the shadows playing up a bit, most likely."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," replied the Doctor, wishing Jack would stop asking so many questions.

"Alright then, let's get in and get you something to eat while Ianto finds you a room. You must be tired if 'you' are starting to see things."

They were standing in front of a rather nondescript battered door off a walkway along the bay. "This is the entrance to Torchwood?" asked the Doctor incredulously.

"Yes, it is," replied Jack as he opened the door. "It's a bit more impressive inside, you'll see."

As the Doctor entered the doorway, he saw something out of the corner of his eye again. He tried to catch it but it was gone before he could turn his head. He gave himself a shake. He was just tired. Jack's offer of a room was becoming more and more welcome.

Behind the door was a small reception area. At the back of it was a thick, round, metal door, much like one would expect to see on a bank vault. Jack grinned as the door rolled back with a clattering sound. It was evident he felt that what was behind it would impress the Doctor.

As the Doctor followed Jack through the open portal, the smell of the Torchwood Cardiff assaulted his senses. A strange, primitive mix of terran and alien odors, overlaid with the unmistakable scent of humans in rut. No, he definitely wouldn't be comfortable spending the night here.

Looking around the area that served as Torchwood headquarters, the Doctor saw it was a cavernous, multilevel room. The water tower fountain from Roald Dahl Plass continued through the center of the room. Reflected light off the fountain base created a rippling pattern on the walls. At the bottom of the tower was a pool of water, water flowing down over the surface of the tower into the pool, resulted in a constant trickling sound. Square blocks of concrete sat barely out of the water, serving as giant stepping stones. A very unlikely setting for a secret government agency.

The upper tiers were a combination of ultra modern (for early twenty first century) office equipment and furniture set in a late nineteenth century heavy industrial setting. Shiny glass and chrome, set against worn brick, water stained concrete and dirty factory iron. The stairway railing under the Doctor's hand was rough, cold where the chipped paint exposed bare metal.

Startled, he looked up as he heard a familiar, yet unbelievable cry. At the room's highest reaches, well over three stories, a pterodactyl, pteranodon more correctly, circled lazily.

"Oh, that's Myfanwy," Jack explained casually. "She was helping herself to the sheep in the local countryside after she came through the rift. We decided to adopt her. She makes an excellent guard dog."

"I'm sure she does," the Doctor agreed. "Not much would escape her from that height." As if she knew she was the topic of conversation, the pteranodon stooped into a dive. A rush of air tore through the Doctor's hair, when she flared her wings right above his head, causing him to duck in surprise as her claws just barely brushed his scalp. Then with a predatory cry, she soared back to the ceiling.

"She must like you," Jack observed. "She's never greeted a guest before."

"I'm not sure I care for the honor," said the Doctor as he looked warily towards the ceiling. "It definitely gets the hearts beating. You said something about finding me a room? I'd prefer one without wildlife, if it's available."

"Sure, coming right up." Jack turned and yelled, "Ianto!" A smartly dressed, handsome young man with blue eyes and brown hair looked up from his desk. "Can you see what we have in accommodations by the quay here? And see if you can get some food delivered." He lowered his voice as he asked the Doctor, "Fish and chips alright with you?"

"Yes, that would be fine."

"Ianto, turn on the charm and see if you can get that fish and chips place to deliver again."

"Yes, sir," came the curt reply, "and under what name will I be getting the room?"

Jack looked at the Doctor and raised an eyebrow.

"John Smith," was the Doctor's answer.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No, John Smith," the Doctor insisted.

"Alright, the man wants to be John Smith, Ianto."

"Yes, sir," Ianto replied. "Will he be needing identification, sir."

The Doctor gave his head a shake.

"No," Jack replied. "He has that covered."

"That's quite an efficient young man you have there," remarked the Doctor.

"Ianto? He's come in handy quite a few times," Jack replied with a sly grin. "You should try his coffee."

The Doctor made a face.

"Well, his tea then. It should be as good. Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes." Jack gestured for the Doctor to follow him.

"Hey, I'm not that easy. I've told you before, I want dinner and drinks first," the Doctor joked as he followed Jack down the stairs that led to his room.

The Doctor stepped out of the shower. It had felt good to finally feel warm again after spending all that time outdoors in the north of Scotland. Towel wrapped around his waist, he opened the door to Jack's room and saw his blue suit, burgundy shirt, a tie and red trainers laid out for him. He briefly wondered how Jack had managed to get hold of them, then remembered that Jack did have his own key. He was disheartened that the TARDIS was apparently only exiling her owner.

He fingered the material of the blue suit, his brother's favorite. He'd had this duplicate made shortly after he left Donna. He had yet to wear it. It somehow seemed disrespectful to wear it now, but he had no other options. His brown suit was gone, getting cleaned most likely, and he didn't want to have to explain to Jack why the blue one wouldn't do. With a sigh, he started dressing.

Fully clothed with his tie fairly straight, he entered the hub. Jack and Ianto were quietly arguing at the Welshman's workstation. Jack looked up from the discussion as the Doctor approached. "Oh, you're done, good. The fish and chips just arrived."

Jack escorted him to a vacant desk. On it was a plain, grease soaked brown bag, a bottle of malt vinegar and some napkins. "Ianto will get you some tea. Is that alright?"

"That's fine. Thank you for getting my clothes, by the way," replied the Doctor as he settled into the chair. "How's the TARDIS?"

Jack grimaced, sucking in air between his teeth. "Not sure, to tell the truth. When I got close to her, I saw your clothes in a heap outside the door. It looked so odd I couldn't help myself and joked, 'What, no suitcase?' and I swear she growled at me. So I just gathered up what was out there and left as quickly as I could. If I were you, I would stay away for a bit."

"That was more or less my plan," responded the Doctor. That the TARDIS was being cranky worried him, but perversely he was glad she wasn't reserving her ire just for him. Maybe she was just moody. No, that wasn't right. She was mourning and she wanted to be alone. He understood that. Hopefully she would want him back soon. He realized Jack was looking at him, waiting for him to say something more. The smell of the fish and chips caused his stomach to growl, conveniently providing him with a change of topic.

"These chips look good. Excellent in fact," he stated as he took a chip from the bag and then bit into it. "Thank you. So what have you got going on here?"

"Nothing much, really," said Jack pulling up a chair. "Rift has been pretty quiet. Which is good, as we're a little short on staff at the moment? There's only three of us."

"Three?" asked the Doctor as he looked around for the third party.

"Gwen's home with her husband. They are trying to have a honeymoon."

"Martha and Mickey? Neither of them signed up?"

"No, Martha's husband wanted to stay in London and Mickey just hung around long enough to find a job overseas. He said he wanted a fresh start."

"A Fresh start, that's what I need," thought the Doctor. He never felt that he would be envious of Mickey, but there it was. His thoughts were broken into by a sharp clatter as a cup of tea was set down with contained force in front of him, the hot liquid slopping right up to the brim but not a drop escaping. He looked up to see a rather grim Welshman staring down at him.

"Your tea, sir. Will you be wanting any milk with that?" The voice was even more formal and stiff than the words.

"No, no, thank you," responded the Doctor, wondering what the bad mood was about. He decided to pull his usual trick and pretend he didn't notice. "This is fine and please don't call me sir."

"I'll be back to my duties then," Ianto replied as he turned rather pointedly on his heel and left.

The Doctor took a sip of tea. "You're right," he said to Jack. "He does do a good job with the tea. So, down to only three people, any plans to recruit some more?"

"Why, you want to sign up?" Jack asked.

"Well, with this food, it's tempting. But no, I'll pass," replied the Doctor between bites of fried fish. "However, since I appear to be stranded at the moment, I'd be happy to help out for a bit. See just what this new rebuilt Torchwood is all about."

"I'd be glad to have your assistance. I'll warn you, though, it really is pretty dull right now, but it would be great if you could help us figure out some of the alien technology we have stored."

"I'd be happy to help with that," the Doctor replied enthusiastically. Jack's offer of having him poke around in the captured technology was just what he needed to get his mind off of recent events, though a rogue alien or two would be even better. "Anything in particular giving you problems?"

Jack cast a worried glance at Ianto, who was busy at his terminal, a frown marring his face. "We can talk about that later. Let's get you settled in for the night. You may be cleaned up, but you still look a mess."